And the famous picture which she had sent to the Grand Duke? He had
destroyed it, in a fit of passion, on returning from the Bois de
Boulogne after his encounter with Chunda Lal!
It is Fate after all--Kismet--and not the wit of man which leads to
the apprehension of really great criminals--a tireless Fate which
dogs their footsteps, a remorseless Fate from which they fly in vain.
Long after the funeral of the Grand Duke, and at a time when I had
almost forgotten Zara el-Khala, I found myself one evening at the
opera with a distinguished French scientist and he chanced to refer
to the premature death (which had occurred a few months earlier) of
Henrik Ericksen, the Norwegian.
"A very great loss to the century, M. Max," he said. "Ericksen was as
eminent in electrical science as the Grand Duke Ivan was eminent in
the science of war. Both were stricken down in the prime of life--and
under almost identical circumstances."
"That is true," I said thoughtfully.
"It would almost seem," he continued, "as if Nature had determined to
foil any further attempts to rifle her secrets and Heaven to check
mankind in the making of future wars. Only three months after the
Grand Duke's death, the American admiral, Mackney, died at sea--you
will remember? Now, following Ericksen, Van Rembold, undoubtedly the
greatest mining engineer of the century and the only man who has
ever produced radium in workable quantities, is seized with illness
at a friend's house and expires even before medical aid can be
summoned.
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