And, as they went, the pedestrians and
traffic grew less and less, and they soon passed the Mansion House and
the deserted space in front of the Royal Exchange, and so on down
Fenchurch Street and within sight of the Tower of London, rising dim and
shadowy in the smoky air. Jones remembered all this perfectly well, and thought it was his intense
preoccupation that made the distance seem so short. But it was when the
Tower was left behind and they turned northwards that he began to notice
how altered everything was, and saw that they were in a neighbourhood
where houses were suddenly scarce, and lanes and fields beginning,
and that their only light was the stars overhead. And, as the deeper
consciousness more and more asserted itself to the exclusion of the
surface happenings of his mere body during the day, the sense of
exhaustion vanished, and he realised that he was moving somewhere in the
region of causes behind the veil, beyond the gross deceptions of the
senses, and released from the clumsy spell of space and time. Without great surprise, therefore, he turned and saw that his companion
had altered, had shed his overcoat and black hat, and was moving beside
him absolutely _without sound_. For a brief second he saw him, tall as a
tree, extending through space like a great shadow, misty and wavering of
outline, followed by a sound like wings in the darkness; but, when he
stopped, fear clutching at his heart, the other resumed his former
proportions, and Jones could plainly see his normal outline against the
green field behind. Then the secretary saw him fumbling at his neck, and at the same moment
the black beard came away from the face in his hand. "Then you _are_ Thorpe!" he gasped, yet somehow without overwhelming
surprise. They stood facing one another in the lonely lane, trees meeting overhead
and hiding the stars, and a sound of mournful sighing among the
branches. "I am Thorpe," was the answer in a voice that almost seemed part of the
wind. "And I have come out of our far past to help you, for my debt to
you is large, and in this life I had but small opportunity to repay." Jones thought quickly of the man's kindness to him in the office, and a
great wave of feeling surged through him as he began to remember dimly
the friend by whose side he had already climbed, perhaps through vast
ages of his soul's evolution. "To help me _now_?" he whispered. "You will understand me when you enter into your real memory and recall
how great a debt I have to pay for old faithful kindnesses of long ago,"
sighed the other in a voice like falling wind. "Between us, though, there can be no question of _debt_," Jones heard
himself saying, and remembered the reply that floated to him on the air
and the smile that lightened for a moment the stern eyes facing him. "Not of debt, indeed, but of privilege." Jones felt his heart leap out towards this man, this old friend, tried
by centuries and still faithful. He made a movement to seize his hand. But the other shifted like a thing of mist, and for a moment the clerk's
head swam and his eyes seemed to fail. "Then you are _dead_?" he said under his breath with a slight shiver. "Five years ago I left the body you knew," replied Thorpe. "I tried to
help you then instinctively, not fully recognising you. But now I can
accomplish far more." With an awful sense of foreboding and dread in his heart, the secretary
was beginning to understand. "It has to do with--with--?" "Your past dealings with the Manager," came the answer, as the wind rose
louder among the branches overhead and carried off the remainder of the
sentence into the air. Jones's memory, which was just beginning to stir among the deepest
layers of all, shut down suddenly with a snap, and he followed his
companion over fields and down sweet-smelling lanes where the air was
fragrant and cool, till they came to a large house, standing gaunt and
lonely in the shadows at the edge of a wood. It was wrapped in utter
stillness, with windows heavily draped in black, and the clerk, as he
looked, felt such an overpowering wave of sadness invade him that his
eyes began to burn and smart, and he was conscious of a desire to shed
tears. The key made a harsh noise as it turned in the lock, and when the door
swung open into a lofty hall they heard a confused sound of rustling and
whispering, as of a great throng of people pressing forward to meet
them. The air seemed full of swaying movement, and Jones was certain he
saw hands held aloft and dim faces claiming recognition, while in his
heart, already oppressed by the approaching burden of vast accumulated
memories, he was aware of the _uncoiling of something_ that had been
asleep for ages. As they advanced he heard the doors close with a muffled thunder behind
them, and saw that the shadows seemed to retreat and shrink away towards
the interior of the house, carrying the hands and faces with them. He
heard the wind singing round the walls and over the roof, and its
wailing voice mingled with the sound of deep, collective breathing that
filled the house like the murmur of a sea; and as they walked up the
broad staircase and through the vaulted rooms, where pillars rose like
the stems of trees, he knew that the building was crowded, row upon row,
with the thronging memories of his own long past. "This is the _House of the Past_," whispered Thorpe beside him, as they
moved silently from room to room; "the house of _your_ past. It is full
from cellar to roof with the memories of what you have done, thought,
and felt from the earliest stages of your evolution until now. "The house climbs up almost to the clouds, and stretches back into the
heart of the wood you saw outside, but the remoter halls are filled with
the ghosts of ages ago too many to count, and even if we were able to
waken them you could not remember them now. Some day, though, they will
come and claim you, and you must know them, and answer their questions,
for they can never rest till they have exhausted themselves again
through you, and justice has been perfectly worked out. "But now follow me closely, and you shall see the particular memory
for which I am permitted to be your guide, so that you may know and
understand a great force in your present life, and may use the sword of
justice, or rise to the level of a great forgiveness, according to your
degree of power." Icy thrills ran through the trembling clerk, and as he walked slowly
beside his companion he heard from the vaults below, as well as from
more distant regions of the vast building, the stirring and sighing of
the serried ranks of sleepers, sounding in the still air like a chord
swept from unseen strings stretched somewhere among the very foundations
of the house. Stealthily, picking their way among the great pillars, they moved up the
sweeping staircase and through several dark corridors and halls, and
presently stopped outside a small door in an archway where the shadows
were very deep.