Evening Star Newspaper, October 20, 1935, Page 89

Magazine Section “Oh! They haven't sent men and women vet. That’s what Theotocopolus is making the - trouble about. He's the descendant of a great e e 't <+ e u n d p artist called El Greco.” “It wouldn't hur to go to the moon?” “We don't know. Some people say yes — some peoplesay no. They've sent miceround.” “Mice that have gone round the Moon!" “They get broken up, poor little beasties! They don't know how to hold on when the bumps come. That's why there's all this talk of sending a man. He'd know how to hold s’ “He'd have to be brave, wouldn’t he? . . . 1 wish I could fly round the moon." “That in time, my dear. Won’t. you come back to your history pictures again?"’ “I'm glad I didn't live in the old world. I know that John Cabal and his airmen tidied it up. Did you see John Cabal, great grand- dad?” “You can see him in your pictures, my dear."” “But yousaw him when he lived, youreally saw him?" “Yes. | saw the great John Cabal with my own eyes when I was a little boy. A lean brown old man with hair as white as mine. He was the great-grandfather of our Oswald Cabal, the President of our Council.” Oswald Cabal seated in his private room in the administration offices of the city of Everytown. The room is of the same easy style of architecture as the preceding scene. There are no windows and no cornzrs, but across a kind of animated frieze, a band of wall above Cabal's head, there sweep phan- tom clouds and waves, waving trees, clusters of flowers and the like in a perpetual silent sequence of decorative effects. Thereis a large televisor disc and telephone and other appa- ratus on the desk before Cabal. Oswald Cabal is a calmer, younger-looking version of his ancestor. His hair is dark and, like all hair in the new world, trimly dressed. His costume is of a white silken material with very slight and simple embroidery. His arm carries a light gauntlet and on the gauntlet is a kind of identification disc on which one reads the words: *‘Oswald Cabal — President of the Council of Direction.” Such identifica- tion plates in the wrists or arms are a usual feature of the costume of the period. Cabal is in conference with two engineers. They wear dark and simple clothes in the broad-shouldered fashion of the age. In an age of mechanical perfection there is no need for overalls and grease-proof clothing. One sits on a chair of modernist form. The other leans familiarly against a table. Cabal: ‘“Then I take it this Space Gun has passed all its preliminary trials and that nothing remains now but theselection of those who are to go."” First Engineer: trouble.” Second Engineer: “There are thousands 'of young men and young women applying. I never dreamt the moon was so attractive.” First Engineer: ‘‘Practically the gun is per- fect now. There are risks but reasonable risks. And the position of the moon in the next three or four months gives us the best conditions for getting there. It is only the choice of the two now that matters.” Cabal: “Well?” First Engineer: ‘“There are going to be dif- ficulties. That man Theotocopulos is talking on the radio about it.” Cabal: ‘‘He's a fantastic creature.” Second Engineer: “Yes, but he is making trouble. It is not going to be easy to choose these young people.” Cabal: ‘‘With all those thousands offering?”’ First Engineer : ‘“‘We have looked into thou- sands of cases. We have rejected everyone of imperfect’ health. Or anyope who had friends who objected. And the fact is, Sir, — we wish you would talk to two people. There is Raymond Passworthy of General Fabrics. You know him?” Cabal: “Quite well. His great-grandfather knew mine.” First Engineer: “And his son.” Second Engineer: ‘“We want you to see the son, Sir — Maurice Passworthy.” Cabal: “Why?"” First Engineer: “He asks to go.” Cabal: “With whom?"" Second Engineer: *“We think you had better see him. He is waiting here.” Cabal considers and then lifts his gauntlet and touches a spot on it. A faint musical sound responds. He says: “Is Maurice Passworthy waiting? . ., Yes. .. Send him up.” “That’s going to be the THIS Almost immediately a panel opens in the wall and a slender, rather lightly clad, good- looking young man appears. Cabal stands up and looks at him. “You want to talk with me?”’ The two engineers bow and retire. Maurice Passworthy: “Forgive me, Sir. I come straight to you.”’ “You ask a favor?’’ “A very big favor. I want to be one of the first two human beings to go round the moon.” “It means danger. Great hardship anyhow. There is an even chance, they say, that you may never come back. And a still greater chance of coming back crippled.” “Give me credit for not minding that, Sir.” “A lot of you young people don’t mind that. But why should you be favored?" The Master of Mystery at his Riviera home E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM’S N ewest m_ysiery sertes begins in the next issue Adventure,” begins in the next issue, once was asked whether he wrote for fame or money. The renowned author of more than 150 books and droves of short stories replied: “Fame or money? I don’t think of either when I’'m writing. All I want is the best story possible.” ‘Nothing could more clearly portray E. Phillips Oppenheim, the man and the author. For “Oppy,” as a host of friends call him, loves Life more than either money or fame. And surely no man has lived more romantic- ally. Nearly every adventure he relates in his stories is his own adventure or one at which he has had a ringside seat. He golfs, shoots, plays bridge, and can keep step on the dance floor with his daughter’s friends. He knows all the Monte Carlo “hot spots” and is frequently to be found at the gaming tables. Two years ago it was rumored he broke one of the banks. He hashomes on the Isle of Guernsey and the Riviera, a famous yacht— and he is married to a princess. No wonder his stories are always so true to character, so swift of action, so packed with mystery and suspense. The hero in an E. Phillips Oppenheim story is E. Phillips Oppenheim. From the first page to the last the reader forgets he is reading a story: he is living it (as “Oppy”’ once lived it). Rarely has the brilliant master of the adventure story done a more exciting seriesof tales than “Legacy of Adventure.” Desmond Rooke mys- - teriously meets death, and five relatives inherit his fortune. Was his death an accident? Suicide? Or was it murder? The first installment gives the clue. Don’t miss this latest thriller from the pen of E. Phillips Oppenheim. It begins in the next issue! I : PuiLLips OpPENHEIM whose thrilling new series, ““Legacy of ° WEEK “Well, Sir, I'm the son of a friend of yours. People seem to feel — you ought not to send two people you don't know — "’ ““We have talked about this over and over again.” llwe?n *“You stand for so much in the New World and the Great World of today.”” Cabal is leaning against his desk and think- ing. He looks keenly at the young man’s face. “We?" he repeats, Maurice Passworthy: “Both of us. It is her idea even more than it is mine.” Cabal’s mind has already leapt forward to what is coming. ‘‘Her idea? Who is she?” “‘Someone much closer to you than I am.” Cabal quietly: “Tell me.” - T YT I eSS TSNS SRS TSRS S eSS E - e . SNSRI EE S LLLL LT YT DL LD DL L L L Ll Ll 7 “We have been fellow students these three years.” “Yes — yes, but tell me.” “It is your daughter, Sir — Catherine. She says that you cannot possibly send anyone’s child but your own.” I might have known.” “You see, Sir — " “I see. My daughter. Funny that I never thought of her as anything but a little girl . . . My Catherine.” “She is eighteen.” “A ripe age . . . I'm a little — taken by surprise. And you two have thought it all out.” “It's so plain, Sir.” “Yes, it's plain. It’s just. It is exactly as things ought to be. Exactly. All these other thousands will have to wait their turn. Sit down here. Tell me how first you came to know my Catherine?" “Ever since we began to work together. It seemed so natural, Sir. She’s so straight and simple. ... " 7 Close up of Cabal, half an hour later. He is no longer in his bureau. He is standing in a dark recess against a gracefully patterned wall. A small clear sound is heard and he attends to the telephone disc on his gauntlet. “Yes...Whoisit?... Raymond Passworthy. He waits for half a second. “Is that Ray- mond Passworthy? Yes. I have been talking to your son for half an hour. Yes. He is a splendid youngster . . . You want to talk to me? At your service . . . [ am going to see my daughter at the Athletic Club. He is meeting her there. Would you care to walk with me through the City Ways and out through the weather? I'l] be with you..."” Scene changes to a view of one of the high flung City Ways in the brightly-lit, cavernous Everytown of 2054. Here for the first time one sees the ordinary social types of the year 2054 at close hand, their costume and their bearing. No one is ragged and only one man is wearing any sort of working costume. He is a gardener and he is spraying some of the flowers. The general type of costume is reminiscent of man’s cos- tume in Tudor days, varying very widely be- tween simplicity and ornateness. Some of the young women are very lightly and simply clad, but others are more consciously “cos- tumed.” One sees also the very bold and deco- rative architecture of this semi-subterranean city, and the use of running water and novel and beautiful plants and flowering shrubs in decoration. In the sustained bright light and conditioned air of the new Everytown and in the hands of skilful gardeners, vegetation has taken on a new vigor and loveliness. People pass. People gather in knots and look down on the great spaces below. The figures of Cabal and Passworthy come walking across the foreground. Passworthy is a finer, fitter version — leaner, cleaner and trimmer —of his ancestor, the Passworthy of the first part of the story. He walks, talking with Cabal, for some paces; then the two come to a stop, leaning against a parapet, looking down on the city and talking earnestly. Passworthy: “I grant you the reality of the progress the world has made since the Airmen took control. It has been a Century of Mar- vels. But cannot we have too much of progress? Here, I agree, is a lovely world in which we are living. A little artificial — but admirable at last. The triumph of human invention and human will. Comfort, beauty, security. Our light is brighter than the sun- shine outside and never before has mankind breathed so sweet an air. We have got the better of nature. Why should we still drive on so urgently?”’ Cabal: “Because it i8 in the nature of life to drive on. The most unnatural thing in life is contentment.” “Contentment! Contentment is Heaven!” “And this is not Heaven.” “No. Indeed not. When sons rebel against their fathers.” : “And fathers listen to their daughters. We are both fathers of rebel children, is it not so? An old problem, Passworthy. What to do with our sons and daughters? Fathers like you and I were asking that question in the Stone Age.” “But to hurl them at the moon!” ““They hurl themselves."” “Desperate young people. Why should they ““Humanity is tough stuff. If it hadn’t been for the desperate young people, it wouldn't have gone very far.” (Continued on page 10)