Page:Weird Tales Volume 10 Number 2 (1927-08).djvu/108

 awed, hushed crowd. And Saul thought of the night that Henry had spoken of Servetus. He remembered his strange premonition—the scorching heat of fire, the cries of an angry mob, the choking gusts of billowing smoke. The great dream was fulfilled, the battle won. It was fitting that Henry should so go out into eternity, in the great laboratory razed by lurid flames, a mighty funeral pyre.

next day the news broke. Over the whole world, by the press, by radio and cable flashed a message that staggered the population of the earth. Saul Blauvette had conquered cancer! Cancer! That hideous thing that came, none knew whence or how, that ate into the flesh and destroyed life, was now itself to be forever destroyed. Saul Blauvette! The name was on ten million tongues. He had not discovered the origin of the cancer germ. What need now to know? He had discovered the germ itself, he offered to all humanity the powerful serum that ended the life of the microbe and healed the stricken. Cancer! Saul Blauvette.

The world went wild. Men shouted in incredulous wonder. Women wept. Out of the dark chrysalis of their fear men and women came bursting into the light, crying the savior name of Saul Blauvette—Blauvette, who offered salvation to the horror-ridden, refusing to take a cent from them, asking only the privilege of making them whole. In droves they came to surround the office of old Doc Whittly, crowding like sheep. Some came walking with heads held high in hope, some weeping and leaning on others, some carried on stretchers, wan-faced, hardly daring to believe in the saving mercy of the formula 511.

Saul Blauvette, weary, worn, white and radiant, ordered the crew of madly busy assistants, while John Cloud, Whittly, Helene and Mrs. Blauvette moved swiftly among them, carrying bottles and needles filled with 511 and watching the tide of humanity come and go. Dying men and women, released from the grave, threw their hands high in a gesture of gratitude to God and blessed the name of Saul Blauvette. His mother, pausing to glance into his enormous slate-gray eyes, bowed her head in humility before the star in his forehead that shone on all the world.

"Doc!" Saul caught Whittly's arm. "Look at their eyes! They've come into the light! The dark chrysalis is shattered! But I'm still young. Helene and I can't stop here. Tell me what other horror menaces the world. Tell me what to tackle next."

"Next!" Whittly stared at him, and his mother and Helene stood very still just beyond. On his forehead! What a star! Whittly went on slowly:

"You've done your work. The world knows you for the greatest of the great."

"Every man's greatness must be measured by the quantity of his contribution," Saul answered, his voice deep with exaltation. "It seemed a big thing at first—now it seems so little. I've got to go on giving!"

"To the great all things are small," breathed Mrs. Blauvette, smiling into Helene's shining eyes.

"He will go on forever.