"Salutations to the men of the Blue Sphere, with one moon, from the white men, your brothers in space, inhabitants of the Red Sphere, with two moons! Electric waves, radiant energy of the gods, at last bridges the fearsome gulf that yawns between us. No longer shall we be as strangers in our great universe, but united in bonds of sympathy and understanding. Your wireless messages fill the air; they have taught us many strange and wonderful things. Yet we thirst for more knowledge of thee, and the planet on which thou dwellest. The Red Sphere is matter in old age, slowly drying up. We are facing extinction. Long has been the struggle of the minority, the white race, against the majority, the ape-men of the jungles, now warring to become our masters...."
"Salutations to the men of the Blue Sphere, with one moon, from the white men, your brothers in space, inhabitants of the Red Sphere, with two moons! Electric waves, radiant energy of the gods, at last bridges the fearsome gulf that yawns between us. No longer shall we be as strangers in our great universe, but united in bonds of sympathy and understanding. Your wireless messages fill the air; they have taught us many strange and wonderful things. Yet we thirst for more knowledge of thee, and the planet on which thou dwellest. The Red Sphere is matter in old age, slowly drying up. We are facing extinction. Long has been the struggle of the minority, the white race, against the majority, the ape-men of the jungles, now warring to become our masters...."
From this point on, a considerable portion of the message could not get through, apparently due to some ethereal disturbance; a turbulence, somewhere off in space, which Olinski labelled as "very spotty."
Suddenly, the engineers' efforts to re-contact Mars were successful. Fading and fluttering, the dots and dashes of the code began once again to register on the receiving machine. Transcribed by Henry on the blackboard, although piece-meal, the message was fairly intelligible, and really contained more startling information than the first part. It read thus:
"If thou desireth greater knowledge of our planet and people, look for our ship in the sky. Search carefully, on your mountain-tops and in the valleys. Fourteen suns have passed since the ship, launched in the darkness of an equatorial solar eclipse, was caught up in a cloud of cosmic bodies streaming over our planet. The key of knowledge thou wilt find in this ship ... scroll written by young priest-astronomer, darling of the gods, who first deciphered code of your strange language.... Our astronomers study your planet diligently through holes in your clouds.... They see great bluish masses ... can this be water?..."
"If thou desireth greater knowledge of our planet and people, look for our ship in the sky. Search carefully, on your mountain-tops and in the valleys. Fourteen suns have passed since the ship, launched in the darkness of an equatorial solar eclipse, was caught up in a cloud of cosmic bodies streaming over our planet. The key of knowledge thou wilt find in this ship ... scroll written by young priest-astronomer, darling of the gods, who first deciphered code of your strange language.... Our astronomers study your planet diligently through holes in your clouds.... They see great bluish masses ... can this be water?..."
The second part of the message quickly fading out, Henry's presence of mind did not forsake him in this emergency. Immediately, he began to dictate a reply to the Martian message, which Olinski quickly coded and transmitted, with breathless interest on the part of the audience.
In this Mars-bound reply, Henry laid strong emphasis on the "ship," mentioned by the Martians in their message, concluding as follows:
"Explain more fully about the ship in the sky. We have no knowledge of this. Meteors by the thousands have been spraying the Blue Sphere for many days. This stream of meteors may be the same swarm that your own planet encountered, fourteen suns ago. Answer immediately."
"Explain more fully about the ship in the sky. We have no knowledge of this. Meteors by the thousands have been spraying the Blue Sphere for many days. This stream of meteors may be the same swarm that your own planet encountered, fourteen suns ago. Answer immediately."
But no answer came.
Highly agitated, and believing himself to be on the brink of a still greater discovery, Henry rushed again to the microphone, and immediately broadcast a world-wide appeal for assistance in finding the Martian "ship," which he described as a rocket. Then, as a cheerful glow of anticipated success diffused itself all over him, he offered a reward of $25,000 to any trooper, or constable, from Tokyo to Timbuctoo, or to any one, in any part of the world, who found the "ship."
"This so-called ship," he explained to his audience, visible and invisible, "is most likely a metal rocket, which the Martians have catapulted into the sky during a solar eclipse and meteoric display. Their two tiny moons are so close to the surface of Mars, and their speeds are so great, that along the Martian equator there are three or four total solar eclipses every day.
"Apparently, they have taken advantage of one of these eclipses, in their astronomical calculations, in directing the rocket earthward. It may have been driven, by some mighty engine, beyond the planet's weak pull of gravity, into this very same cloud of cosmic bodies that are at present showering the earth. The 'fourteen suns,' mentioned in their radio message, really mean fourteen days. Their day is but a half hour longer than our own. Making all allowances, it would take a rocket, catapulted from Mars, about two weeks to travel through space, and reach the earth."
By this time, every one in the auditorium was on the edge of their seats, actually quivering with excitement. It was like a mad-house when the meeting was finally adjourned. People stood on their seats, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and cheering Henry and Olinski.
That night stands out in my mind as one of gradually accumulating excitement. The demonstration ending in the wildest sort of clamor, and a general rush for the stage, to congratulate my brother and his co-worker, I became separated from my party. Jane disappeared from my view as completely as though she had dropped through a trap-door in the floor.
Pat, somehow, lost sight of Prince Matani in the crush. I don't think she minded much, or she may have lost him intentionally. I spent ten excited and violent minutes looking for her and Jane. When I finally reached the lobby, there I found Pat talking to McGinity, as calmly as you please, and she looked entirely happy. After a quick and agitated good-night, he left her in my care, and dashed off to the Daily Recorder office, to write what he termed a "new lead" for the second edition. During the demonstration, he had despatched his copy, page by page, by messenger boy, from the press table.
Pat and I had to literally fight our way through the milling thousands, outside the NRC Building, to reach our car, in a nearby parking space. We found Jane in the car. She acted rather peevish, and steadily persisted in saying that it was my fault that we had become separated. There we waited a full hour for Henry. At last, I left the car to look for him.
Suddenly, I was caught in a crowd that had broken through the police lines. A stout man collided with me, and knocked me down; then some one ran over me as I lay on the pavement. I believe the crowd would have trampled me to death then and there if a policeman had not rescued me. Then Olinski came rushing up to me. I must have presented a queer sight to him, my hat at a strange angle and my clothes mussed up.
"Where's Henry?" I gasped.
"In a telephone booth, in the lobby, hiding from the crowd," Olinski replied, breathlessly. "The crowd insists on carrying us both around on its shoulders, like a hero aviator, or a victorious football player. I've just escaped by the merest chance. Better get back to your car, and wait."
He dashed off, and I returned to the car. Another half hour, and still no sign of Henry. I was beginning to be quite alarmed when he appeared, at last, accompanied by a young man.
"Bob!" exclaimed Pat, when she saw them coming.
Sure enough, it was McGinity. Henry had waited until he had cleaned up on his story, and was now taking him to our country place to spend the night. It was plain to see Henry had formed a sort of attachment for the young reporter. As it turned out, McGinity was to be a valuable ally the next day.
"I'm up to the neck in this thing now," Henry explained, as he joined us in the car, "and no one can render me more valuable assistance than Mr. McGinity. I've asked him to help me in making up a statement for the press, which I've promised to hand out, first thing in the morning."
McGinity insisted on riding in the front seat with the chauffeur. One look at Pat convinced me that she was very pleased to have him with us, even if he rode astride the radiator hood, which was hardly possible, with the chauffeur's usual rocket-like speed as we rushed through the dark countryside.
It was long past midnight when we rolled through the lodge-gate at our Sands Cliff estate. During the drive from the city, many meteors had flashed across the sky. We had just stepped up to our front door when there was a sudden flash of prismatic colors almost directly over our heads, a soft whirring noise, like a plane makes in the dead of night, followed by a heavy thud, indicating that perhaps some heavy object had struck the ground. Then everything became dark and quiet again.
The incident had an electrical effect on Henry. "That was a meteorite, as sure as shot!" he exclaimed. "Looks like it fell somewhere along the water-front. What about going down, and having a look round?"
"Let's go," said McGinity, eagerly.
It took some argument on the part of Jane and myself to keep them from making the search, but at last we managed it. Half an hour later, we were all in our beds. I was so dead tired, I felt that I would never wake up once I got to sleep.
It was bright daylight, seven o'clock in the morning, when I was wakened by Niki knocking loudly at my bedroom door.
XIII
Niki was an early bird; he always took a walk round the castle grounds long before the rest of the household was up. His walk that morning had taken him along the water-front. On the beach, about a mile from our private dock, he had discovered a strange-looking object, something that resembled a huge sky-rocket, as he described it to me afterwards. On close inspection, he thought he heard a tapping sound inside the metal tube, as though some one was imprisoned there. This had alarmed him greatly, and he had taken it on the run back to the castle.
I was only partly awake when I admitted him to my room after his violent knocking at my door. His usual Oriental calm had disappeared entirely, and I gazed at him wonderingly as he stood, gesturing and talking wildly, as though he had lost his senses. I kept shaking my head dubiously.
"But Meester Livingston!" he cried. "I am telling you the truth. I am telling you."
"You're still dreaming, Niki," I said; "you haven't waked up yet. You'll drag me down to the beach, and what will we find there? Nothing."
"But I've seen it, touched it with my hands, Meester Livingston," he went on excitedly. "There is something inside of it—alive."
"Inside of what?" I asked, suppressing a yawn.
"Inside the big fire-cracker," he replied. "It is big enough to put an elephant inside—maybe not so big—" he stretched both arms full length; "maybe, this long. Maybe, it is that ship from the stars, Meester Henry was talking about on the radio last night. If it is, maybe, I will get the $25,000 reward for finding it."
"Ship? A rocket?" Then I blew up. "Why, you little Filipino jackass, why didn't you tell me so before?"
"I have been telling you," he replied, shaking his head, as if in pity for my lack of comprehension.
I sent him off in haste to waken McGinity. By the time I was half-dressed, McGinity joined me, fully dressed. In less than ten minutes, we dashed out of the castle, and made a break for the beach. When Niki had pointed out the strange object to us, lying on the sand, I sent him back to rouse Henry.
Before we reached the queer-looking thing, I had made up my mind that whatever it was, it might be mysterious but nothing more. Not by the wildest stretch of the imagination could I see a projectile from another planet landing on this earth, even if it had wings. But when we got up to it, and I heard a sound inside, as Niki had first reported, as though some one was tapping against the metal, like men trapped in a submarine, signaling to their rescuers, and logical connection was established in my mind between the Martian radio message and the landing of this strange rocket from the sky, the only real brain-storm I ever had in my life was right there.
I judged the object to be about ten feet in length, and about ten feet in circumference at its widest part. The outer shell looked like copper. It had a cone-shaped nose, which seemed to have been embedded deep in the sand when it fell from space, but the weight of the body had tipped it over, so that it now rested in a semi-horizontal position. I noted at once that its metal surface was pitted, and had a fused crust, like the varnish-like coating of a meteorite, no doubt due to the action of the heat generated by its rapid passage through the earth's atmosphere.
What McGinity's thoughts were, during our hurried inspection, I did not know. He appeared to have been awed into silence. Presently, he said, in a very serious tone:
"This is the ship, or rocket, from Mars, all right. Nothing was ever manufactured on this earth that looks anything like it. As for that tapping sound—" he stopped, and leaned over, with his ear pressed against the projectile. "Something is alive in there, sure as faith. We must act quickly, or it'll be suffocated." He made a rapid examination of the rocket's exterior. "I don't see any way of opening the darned thing. Do you?"
I joined him in his inspection. "It seems to be hermetically sealed," I said. "Looks like a Chinese puzzle to me."
Hearing voices approaching, I wheeled round, to see Henry coming on the run—bareheaded, and wearing only his trousers and shirt and bedroom slippers. Niki was running some steps ahead of him. He was almost breathless when he came up to us. He gave the rocket one searching glance, and then he went plain crazy. Here it was, the "ship" from Mars, with all its potentialities.
"My God!" was all he said.
I don't suppose I'll ever remember exactly what happened after Henry's arrival on the scene. Revelations, weird and foreboding, crowded the ensuing half hour so quickly, one upon the other, I became dazed and dizzy. I know we all worked heroically, and swiftly, to free the living thing inside the rocket. We were assisted in the operation by a dozen, strong-armed men-servants. Already, we had quite a gallery of spectators; all of the servants practically on the estate, but no one from outside. Jane and Pat stood on a sod embankment, fringed with willows, some yards away; even at this distance, I could discern that Pat was wildly excited but was being held in check by Jane.
Henry was handy with tools, but McGinity proved himself more capable when it came to the actual opening of the rocket. Henry, however, was privileged to be the first one to look inside. He gasped, and stepped back like one stunned. Then McGinity took a look. "Great Scott!" he exclaimed.
"What is it?" I asked, as I stepped forward, tremulous and excited, to take my turn.
"That's what it is," he replied, cryptically. "Looks like Barnum's 'What Is It?'"
To my dying day, I shall never forget the strange and surprising sight that greeted my eyes as I peered through the opening. I could only describe the huge, revolting-looking creature inside the rocket, at first glance, as a man-ape.
Whatever it was, Henry gave orders for its quick release. "This creature," he said, as we prepared to carry out his orders, "greatly resembles the hairy, primitive man of Mars, inhabiting the jungles of the planet, described in the Martian radio message last night. It was probably captured and placed inside the rocket while in a restive state, like a protoplasm, so that life could be retained during the long and perilous flight through space. It seems, at present, to be in a semi-conscious state. Probably revived to some extent by the effect of the earth's atmosphere."
He stopped, and then, after taking another look inside, continued. "Yes; the creature's eyes are open; he stared wonderingly at me. In his right hand, he's clutching what appears to be a metal bar. Evidently, he's worked it loose from some part of the rocket, and has been hammering with it on the sides, to attract attention."
"Which shows that he's got sense," supplemented McGinity.
Henry turned to me. "See here," he said, quietly; "you go and explain matters to Jane and Pat, and send them back to the house. Send all the women servants back. The sight of this thing may send them into hysterics—Jane especially."
After I had carried out his instructions, and returned to the spot, Henry took McGinity and me by the arms, and walked us away for some distance before he brought us to a stop.
"Now," he said, "we can take one thing as a fact: this ship, or pear-shaped metal rocket, fell out of the sky last night, and was embedded here in the sand. In view of the radio message registered from Mars last night in Radio Center, are you both willing and ready to accept this rocket, and the strange creature inside of it, as coming from Mars?"
"I imagine that's the real answer," McGinity said. "This rocket plunged from the sky, that's certain. Of course, I look at it from the newspaper story angle. But I'm willing to stand by you, Mr. Royce. Whatever you say, goes with me."
"And you, Livingston?" Henry looked at me.
"Well—er—it is not quite clear to me, Henry," I replied. "Your belief that it came from Mars may be good enough in theory, perhaps—"
"You must remember, Livingston," Henry interrupted, "that the Martians may be centuries in advance of us in many ways. Granting that they are, may we not assume that they could invent a gun of some unusual, or unknown style, that could shoot a rocket into space, beyond the gravitational pull of their planet, which is not so strong as ours?"
"Anyway, that's one way we can theorize," I said, "whether it's true or not."
"Grant anything or not," McGinity said to me, "you heard that radio message from Mars last night, announcing that such a rocket, or 'ship,' had been launched earthwards, and later, you saw the explosion in the sky right over this spot, which undoubtedly marked the fall of this rocket."
I nodded. "Yes; and it's absurd on the face of things, I'll admit, not to believe my ears and eyes." And then I committed myself. "I'm darned if I know what this thing is—or where it came from," I asserted, "but here it is, and I'll agree to anything you and Henry say."
"All right—good!" said Henry, slapping me on the back. "Now, we are all agreed on this. We are three witnesses, then, on whose testimony will hang the credulity of the world."
"Anyway, nobody can accuse me of cooking up a story," McGinity remarked, as we retraced our steps.
XIV
Returning to the rocket, we found that the problem of getting the strange passenger out of it had been solved by the foreman of the estate, a very ingenious and alert young man. Without the slightest indication of fear, he had passed a strong rope under the arms of the creature, padding the rope where it touched the body, as a protective measure against injury. Outside, he had rigged up a small derrick. His idea was to hoist the passenger by the shoulders, through the opening in the rocket.
One of the chauffeurs had brought a stretcher and some blankets from the garage in the car. Everything was set for the performance when I heard Henry murmur: "The providence of heaven for this rocket to land here!"
I was just pushing forward to get another peep. The creature was anything but pleasant to look at, or be near, and I was thankful that I was smoking a strong cigar. After it had been hoisted out of the rocket, and placed with tender care on the stretcher, I found myself still staring at this queerest of queer things; so extremely hideous as to be almost fascinating to the gaze; a sort of living satire on a man-beast, which might have been imagined by Jonathan Swift, or drawn by Doré.
He was unclothed, of course, and there was a strong probability that he had never worn any clothes at all, not even a loin cloth. But out of the strange fellow's face gleamed a pair of unusually bright, wondering eyes. His look was suggestive of extreme gratitude for our rescuing him from his perilous plight.
Our first gesture of good-will and hospitality was made by Niki, who had brought from the castle two long-necked bottles, one containing milk, the other, sherry. Just before the creature was lifted out of the rocket, and was held in an upright position by the ropes from the derrick, Niki, at Henry's suggestion, had offered it the choice of the two bottles. To our amazement, the creature's sharp eyes had fastened themselves at once on the bottle containing the sherry, while a hand, that was suggestively like a chimpanzee's, pointed to it. Then he opened his enormous mouth and held it open.
Niki poked the bottle of sherry down his throat, and gave him an inordinately large dose of it, and the creature gulped it down as if it had been a teaspoonful of cough syrup; such a dose would have made me jump; in him, it did not produce the flicker of an eye-lash. The sherry was followed by a small dose of milk.
It is only fair to describe the creature in his natural state, for a few days later, Henry dressed him in custom clothes, under which his hairy ugliness, and revolting uncouthness, were almost completely hidden.
When first discovered, he appeared to be in a coma, his head drooped over to one side; his face was puffed and blotched, a little greenish. Henry had explained this condition as arising from the lassitude of space, for the rocket must have traveled at a frightening speed. At first touch, his body felt cold; there was hardly any pulse.
To my mind he was human, but a separate species, similar to the skeletons of the ancient type of man recovered from deposits in certain sections of our globe. As I studied him, I realized that the term "human" should be employed with reservation.
Judged by a human standard, I placed him at once in my mind as being in the zone between the form of man and ape, a man type but not a fully evolved product. His massive jaws, for one thing, suggested the ape. He was at least six feet in height. His shoulders were broad and massive, and his arms were a little longer in proportion to a man's. He had very broad hands, with short, thick fingers. But the fingers, I noticed, were not united by a web, which is characteristic of apes on the earth, this web often extending to the first finger joint.
His skin was as black as the Negro types of Africa. It was covered with large coarse hair, under which was a coat of short, curly hair; a very ample bodily protection, I figured, provided by nature, against the range of temperatures on his planet. He had a small skull, and enormous canine teeth. The perplexing aspect was his human-like countenance. The skin of his face was a pinkish white, like a baby's, and of a glossy appearance. The beard-line was marked with a light powdery growth of hair, common to boys approaching manhood; under his chin was a real beard, a short and thick one. Judged humanly, he would pass for a man in his late twenties.
While I was studying his general appearance, it struck me as strange that so far he hadn't spoken. When Henry walked over to the stretcher from the rocket, I sounded him on the talk question.
"There's the possibility that the creature is still in the monosyllabic stage," he replied. "We won't know if he has the power of speech until he comes out of the terrific strain he's been under, and becomes acclimated. I dare say he'll be sluggish for some time, because of the earth's heavy gravitational pull, so different from that on Mars, where the people walk and leap with feathery lightness because of the planet's small size. While, on the sun, for instance, the gravitational pull is so powerful that you or I could only move about with the assistance of a steam-crane."
I smiled at the thought of being assisted in walking by a steam-crane, and wondered what would happen if I were in a hurry to catch a train. Then I laughed out loud. My laughter, however, was provoked at the sight of the creature opening his mouth, and holding it open, at the approach of Niki, as if to signify that he wanted another dose of sherry. Certainly he had brains even if he couldn't talk.
Calling the servants over to the stretcher, Henry said: "Now, men, this stranger from a far distant world needs our immediate assistance. Everybody give a hand, and we'll carry him to the car and then drive to the castle."
"Surely you're not going to take him inside the castle?" I said.
"Why not?" Henry retorted. "We're not used to this sort of guest, I know, but we'll just have to get used to him. I regard this helpless creature as an ambassador of good will from another world, and I intend to extend to him the same hospitality I would offer the Ambassador of Great Britain, if he were my guest."
"Have you consulted Jane about this?" I persisted.
"No!" he roared; adding, testily: "Am I not master in my own house?"
"You are being absurd, Henry. That's all I've got to say." This closed the conversation so far as I was concerned.
Henry went on, however, though in a more subdued tone. "In any case," he said, "since you've brought the matter up, I'll give you my word that as long as the creature is a guest in our home, he shall be kept under careful surveillance."
He walked off, and in a few moments, he was leading the way, as six men, with their uncanny burden, swung away toward the car. I followed them, at some distance, and to my stunned amazement, on arriving at the castle, I learned from Jane that Henry had put the thing to bed in our guest chamber de luxe, which we called the State Apartment. Jane was more disturbed than she cared to admit. She and Pat had both seen the creature, and she spoke of it as looking "rather dreadful." When I asked her how Pat had taken it, she said Pat had looked surprised but not at all startled.
"Listen, Jane," I said, in a serious tone. "Do you think if Henry was in his right mind, he would be capable of such action, housing this awful, frightful thing in with the rest of us?"
Jane pretended not to be listening.
"Nevertheless," I continued, "you know that our beloved parent went insane before he died, but it was kept quiet, and we can't afford to ignore a thing like this, breaking out in Henry, to conceal an old scandal in our family."
At this Jane turned on me. "Be careful, Livingston," she admonished; "no good rattling the skeleton in our closet with a reporter in our midst. I think Henry's acting very sanely, considering the strain he's been under, and I can't help thinking, as he does, that it was a definite act of providence for this rocket from Mars to fall near our beach. As for the creature that came in the rocket, in its present state, I'm sure it can do no harm."
I tried to prolong the argument, but she refused to discuss the subject any further, and finally left me. On my way to breakfast, I ran into Pat, who had just finished hers. "Oh, Uncle Livingston!" she exclaimed. "What a lot of fun we're going to have with this big Teddy Bear in the house!" A remark so incredible that I almost gasped.
"It will be quite pleasant, won't it?" I observed, sardonically. "But some people mightn't like it."
Then she caught me by the arm, and drew me aside. She dropped the gay tone of her voice, and glanced round half-fearfully before speaking. "I really don't like the idea so much myself," she admitted. "But you see—now brace yourself for this—I must pretend I'm not shocked, or frightened, because Mr. McGinity says all this makes a whale of a good story, even better and bigger than the fall of the meteor in Times Square, and establishing radio communication with Mars. And, you know, I'm too good a friend of his to spoil—a whale of a good story."
"Isn't this stretching things rather fine?" I asked. "Mr. McGinity is a smart young man, as I believe I've said before, but there's no reason under heaven why you should jeopardize your comfort and personal safety just for the sake of his getting a story. It's dangerous business."
"Call it what you like," she returned evasively. "I've made up my mind not to be frightened, and I'm going to stick to it even if—" She checked herself, and I saw that she was trembling.
I was startled. "Look here, Pat," I said. "We can't have you work yourself into a state of nerves over this. I'll go and find Henry, and order him to get this Barnum's 'What Is It?' out of the house, quickly; and if he doesn't, I'll have it removed by force, and hand it over to the Bronx Zoo. Why—why, the creature might sneak out, in the dead of night, and get in your bedroom!"
"Why, in heaven's name, should it want to get in my room?" she said, with a return of her usual composure. "That sounds rather silly to me."
"I suppose I shouldn't be telling you this, Pat," I said, doubtfully, "as you're still very young, and—"
"I don't think you can tell me much I don't know," she interrupted. "Anyway, Niki is going to act as the creature's guard and valet, and he's very much pleased about it."
"Oh, Niki will do anything, now, short of murder, to please Henry," I said; "he's hot after that $25,000 reward. But the whole matter to me—now prepare yourself—'ain't what you'd call natural.' If putting a big chimpanzee in our bedchamber de luxe, and giving it valet service, isn't the act of a lunatic, I don't know what is."
"I agree with you," Pat rejoined, "but I'm afraid, as far as Uncle Henry is concerned, the matter is hopeless. We must try to get his point of view."
"No; I'll be darned if I will!" I said to myself. Then I said, aloud: "Anyway, you will lock your door carefully, Pat?"
"I always do," she replied, laughing, and left me.
She had no sooner gone, when McGinity came downstairs, and we had breakfast together. He didn't say very much; apparently he was lost in thought. My mind was too confused to work properly, but while we ate, in strained silence, I was trying to think a way out of all the mess as best I could. Presently, McGinity broke the silence by exclaiming, partly to himself: "That terrible ape in the same house with Pat! Think of it!"
"I have thought, to my own shame, and to the shame of our house," I returned. "But Henry seems to think this visitor from Mars the gentlest thing alive."
"My hands are tied," he said, despondently. "Can't you suggest something?"
"The only thing I can suggest is that you stay on with us, if you can arrange to do your writing here," I said, "as a sort of personal guard for Pat. As Henry seems to have grown rather fond of you, I'm sure he can hold no objection. Of course, not a word to Pat about it."
McGinity sat up suddenly in his chair. "That's a great idea," he exclaimed. "My City Editor just ordered me to stick on the job, and I was planning to stay at a hotel in the village."
"If you were to act as personal guard for Pat," I remarked, "there would be nothing sentimental about it, of course."
"Oh, of course, nothing like that," McGinity replied; and he colored and looked at Pat's white cockatoo, on its perch, by the window, the furniture, the ceiling—anywhere but at me.
"I'm sure I can arrange it with Henry to have you stay," I said. "If he insists on keeping this Teddy Bear, as Pat jokingly calls it, in the house, I'm afraid, I'm sadly afraid, there's going to be trouble. Unpleasantness, at any rate."
McGinity looked me square in the eyes. "Pardon me, Mr. Livingston," he said, "but—is there any insanity running in your family?"
Recalling Jane's admonishment, I hesitated a moment before replying. "Isn't there a chance of an abnormal state of mind bobbing up in any family?" I said at last, and let it go at that.
"Anyway, we've got to keep Pat safe," McGinity said. "And as long as this creature is kept in the house, she should be instructed never to wander round alone, upstairs or downstairs. Why, I've got nerves of steel, myself, but I'll confess that if I bumped unexpectedly into a creature like that, in the dark, I'd run like hell."
At this, Henry entered the picture, remaining just long enough to dash down a cup of black coffee, and to invite McGinity and me down to the beach for a more detailed study of the rocket, and to search for the parchment scroll concealed therein, the deciphering of which he felt would help solve the riddle of Mars.
"I'm mighty glad to have your assistance, McGinity," he said, over his hasty cup of coffee, "and I've been wondering if you could arrange with your newspaper to remain with us, and write your stories here."
McGinity gave me a significant side glance, then replied: "I'm sure I can fix it, Mr. Royce. Thanks a lot for the honor and compliment."
On our way out, Henry further informed us that he had called in the best physician in the neighborhood, who was now at the bedside of the visitor from Mars, rendering every possible medical aid. He seemed rather disgruntled when Pat met us on the terrace, and insisted on accompanying us to the beach. But this mood was quickly offset by the appearance of Olinski, who had raced from the city to the castle as fast as a taxi-cab could get him there, in response to Henry's urgent telephone call.
XV
All that had transpired, of course, was of astounding revelation to Olinski. He could hardly contain himself when we showed him the rocket; in fact, he didn't contain himself. He threw his arms around Henry, and kissed him explosively on both cheeks, after the French manner, much to my brother's embarrassment. Then he began to act half-dotty. But, thanks to his half-dottiness, it was from him, and not from Henry, that we got our first intelligible explanation of the mechanism of this metal messenger from the far reaches of interstellar space.
I can't remember much that he said. I often think back and try to recall his clever explanations of this and that, but with little result. I suppose my mind lacks the scientific twist to understand such matters. I do recall, however, a few of his remarks.
After he had completed his first inspection, he turned to Henry, and said: "There isn't a screw or bolt, in the makeup of this rocket, that resembles those we make on this earth. Their screw-thread runs in reverse order to ours."
"In other words," said Henry, "to drive in a Martian screw you've got to use a reverse motion to ours."
"Precisely," Olinski agreed. "And their bolts are not cylindrical like ours, either, but square-shaped," he continued. "They wouldn't serve their purpose if they were round for the Martians seem only to drill square holes, and they don't use nuts to fasten their bolts. Instead, their bolt seems to have a peculiar form of polarity, capable of attracting to itself a magnetizable substance; in this instance, steel caps, which secure the bolts as firmly in place as our nuts do."
There was a brief pause, following this amazing elucidation, during which I whispered to McGinity: "Do you think it all seems possible?" And he quickly replied: "Screws and bolts cannot speak false."
"Now, it looks to me," Olinski said to Henry, as we gathered closer around him, "as though your contention that all things were created alike in the universe, would also apply to the creative works of men. This rocket, if constructed on Mars—and I certainly believe it was—proves that the minds of human beings, whether they're inhabitants of the earth, or Mars, or any other planet in our universe, run in the same channel, or along similar lines."
"But why should they drive their screws in backwards?" I asked. "I can't understand it. It's so much easier the way we do it here, on earth. It sounds screwy."
Olinski smiled, but could give no explanation. "Now, this rocket," he went on, "is constructed of aluminum, and its cone-shaped nose contains a tiny bulbous chamber, in which the liquid fuel, which appears to be a mixture of highly volatile gasoline and liquid oxygen, burns to form the propulsion gases which shoot downward, like the gases from gunpowder in the ordinary fire-works rocket.
"It may be that this fuel is something we know nothing about," he went on. "Interplanetary travel involves the production of a substance that will produce more energy per pound than is required to lift that pound out of the earth's gravitational pull. We haven't been able as yet to produce such a fuel. Looks like the Martian scientists have put one over on us.
"There, you see," as he spoke, he pointed, and we all looked, "at the sides of this cone are two parallel tubes, which serve a double purpose. They are the fuel containers, and are also the standards on which are mounted the fins, or control tail, which apparently keeps the rocket on its course."
"I see it has asbestos insulation," Henry put in.
"Yes; and a circulating system that beats anything I've ever seen," Olinski said. "This creature you rescued from this rocket, practically sailed to earth in a vacuum, with the air inside trying to get out, while the oxygen he took out of the air was replenished by tanks. There they are! See?"
Henry nodded. "It's all perfectly understandable to me," he said, "and all marvelous, beyond measure."
"I'm afraid it doesn't seem perfectly all right to me, Mr. Olinski," I interposed. "You and Henry are both acting in great sincerity, but you are asking us to accept explanations that cannot be verified."
Henry turned to me, and said brusquely: "All facts so far advanced conflict in no way with the truth."
"But your facts may be wrong," I persisted. "In the first place, it is perfectly fantastic to even imagine that the Martians are so scientifically advanced that they could send a rocket like this, safely and unerringly through space to the earth."
"Fantastic?" Olinski exclaimed, heatedly. "No more so than Colonel Lindbergh's solo flight across the Atlantic would have appeared to the world in the time of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella."
Our discussion was suddenly arrested by a cry of surprise from Pat, who had been inspecting the rocket, unnoticed by us.
"Oh, look! See what a pretty box I've found!" she exclaimed.
A very few steps brought the four of us to her side. She handed the box to Henry. It was a small, oblong box of some strange wood, beautifully made, the lid embellished with the design of a gold star. A most unusual looking box, which somehow had been overlooked. There was some trickery about opening it, which Olinski soon solved.
As it turned out, this was a discovery of first importance. The box contained a scroll of parchment, which, when unwound, was about three feet long. The parchment contained tiny tracings, the most minute writing I've ever seen, and apparently written in purplish ink. The tracings, or cuneiform writings, or whatever they were, were wholly unintelligible; to me they resembled myriads of fly-specks. Unfortunately, Henry and Olinski had forgotten their microscopic glasses, but they both accepted the scroll and its contents instantly as the "key of knowledge," mentioned in the Martian radio message, the deciphering of which, they predicted, would disclose the complete truth about Mars.
Looking back on that day, with all its strange and exciting revelations, I cannot help marveling at how really peaceful it was, in view of what was to come.
McGinity remained as our house guest. Before the afternoon was over, he had typed and sent off the bulk of his copy by messenger to the Daily Recorder. Every precaution had been taken by Henry to prevent any news leaking out about the landing of the Martian rocket, and the discovery of its strange occupant, so that McGinity might score another "beat," which was, I thought, mighty decent of him. On the other hand, he put his foot down firmly on the reporter's plea to have photographs taken. He felt the popping of photographic flashlights might unduly excite the creature from Mars, in its present state of collapse.
McGinity was rather silent about his work, but Olinski nearly drove me wild. If he went half-dotty on first seeing the rocket, he went completely dotty when Henry ushered him into the presence of the horrible thing that had come in it. When he had worn Henry out, talking, he began following me around, and insisting on discussing the awful thing, and his various suppositions connected with it. He would have kept on talking indefinitely, I believe, if Henry, finally, had not locked him in the library and forced him to settle down to the laborious task of decoding the Martian code-message contained in the scroll.
The evening passed with intolerable slowness. After dinner, Pat and McGinity contrived to meet on the terrace. I watched them from a window in the entrance hall as well as I could, not that I felt there was anything wrong about their meeting secretly. When they strolled in, nonchalantly, about half an hour later, I was pretending to read the evening newspaper.
By ten o'clock, the castle was quiet and dark, everything locked up for the night, and we were all settled upstairs; Jane with a novel and her smelling salts. She had not come down for dinner; one of the servants reported that she looked like a ghost.
I was very uneasy myself. I had no sooner entered my bedroom when a queer apprehension seized me. I was shivering all over. Restlessly, I paced up and down, trying to diagnose my case. The strange experiences and the excitement of the day had been a little too much for my nerves, perhaps. No; it wasn't that; something deeper, something harrowing, possessed me.
No sound came from within the castle. Everything seemed enveloped in a weird-like silence, the silence that often precedes a storm. I was unable to set my thoughts in order. The whole affair did not ring entirely true. What was the meaning of all that had happened? Surely, some one held the secret.
I tried to think these things out slowly, but try as I would, I couldn't make my cogitations run along prescribed paths. I kept asking myself questions. What would the world think of this latest, incredible revelation? But was it so incredible? Were not scientists agreed that there are probabilities in interplanetary travel which do not overstep the boundaries of accepted natural laws? And what about this frightening creature from Mars, Henry had brought into the castle and put to bed, across the hall from me? What was it doing? For I was certain, in my present disturbed state of nerves, that it was up to something.
Niki, I knew, had been relieved as guard for the night by the two chauffeurs, George and William, whom Henry had assigned to take turns in keeping watch at the bedside of this uncouth stranger within our gates.
The creature interested me more and more as I thought about it; by midnight, it had become a fearsome obsession. In my temporary aberration, I imagined it creeping about the castle, in the dark, trying doors—Pat's door. I wondered if she had taken my advice to have an extra lock put on her bedroom door.
In my anxiety about her, I finally turned off the lights in my room, and opened my door just a crack, to satisfy myself that everything was as quiet and secure as the deep silence denoted.
My room is one of six sleeping rooms on the second floor, which opens on a broad hall, reached by a short flight of stairs, leading from the landing in the gallery of the main staircase. Four of these were now occupied by members of our family. Henry's suite is at the east end of the hall, and mine at the west end. Between us, with bright southern exposure, are Jane's and Pat's bedrooms.
Across the hall, with windows fronting on the Sound, are the two principal guest rooms. The Blue Room, formerly occupied by McGinity, a nobly proportioned apartment, and the State Apartment, in which was ensconced the visitor from Mars. These two apartments are separated by an archway, spanning the landing of the short stairway from the gallery.
Practically the same arrangement holds on the third floor; that is, the six sleeping rooms open on a broad hall—rooms almost never used. But two of them were in use this night—McGinity in one, and Olinski in another. The servants sleep in a back wing, which is built on a lower level than the second floor. A rear stairway, rather awkwardly placed, connects the service wing with the second floor.
When I poked my head out through the crack in my bedroom door, two things became obvious. One was, that all the lights in the hall had been turned off; the other, that the door of the bedchamber across from mine, where the Martian creature had been placed, was slightly ajar; the room itself seemed to be in complete darkness.
This was enough to startle any one with strong nerves and a normal heart. With my nerves jumpy, and my heart likely to go back on me at sufficient provocation, I experienced a strong emotional shock. Fear clutched me that the terrifying creature had escaped from its room, probably while its guard slept, and was now roaming about the castle.
Presently I heard a sound; it came from the far end of the hall, where Pat's room was. A sound of soft footfalls and of heavy breathing. I sensed at once that something terrible was going on. My first thought was to fly upstairs and rouse McGinity; then I decided to meet the situation single-handed. I was so scared that I was almost entirely incapable of thought.
The darkness of the hall was broken dimly at the stair landing by the reflection of light from the lower hall, where a lamp is kept burning all night. I do not consider myself at all a cowardly character, but when I saw a huge, black something moving stealthily in the vicinity of Pat's room, I experienced a shock that left me, for a moment, spineless and breathless.
I have no clear recollection of what happened immediately after this, save that the huge, black something I chased along the hall, and partly down the rear staircase to the servants' wing, turned out to be Mamie Sparks, our fat Negro laundress. She had done some late ironing, and had brought up the necessary fripperies for Pat, leaving the bundle of laundry outside her door.
I was never so glad to see any one as I was to see Mamie. Her jet black skin had gone a ghastly yellow.
"Lawzee, Mr. Livingston, w'at's de mattah?" she asked, faintly. "Yuh near scered de life out o' me. Ah t'ought yuh was dat big monkey-man chasin' me."
I had to explain then what I thought I had seen from my bedroom door. As it developed later, the chauffeur on watch in the Martian's bedroom, had purposely turned off the lights, and opened the door slightly, to get a circulation of air, for which I did not blame him.
Mamie looked very solemn when she spoke, almost weird, as her great eyes rolled around, and her voice fell to a low whisper.
"Ah nevah did like monkeys, nohow," she said, "an' Ah reckon Ah'se nevah goin' to git us'd to havin' one round de house."
"Don't think about it, Mamie," I admonished; "and please forgive me for frightening you so."
"Yessah—yessah," she said, and went down the back stairs.
That is all that happened that night.
XVI
I shall go as little as possible into detail of what occurred on the day following the landing of the Martian rocket on the water-front, and the discovery of its terrifying occupant, who had been our guest over-night. By nine o'clock, the general demoralization of our household was utter and complete. Several of the servants had handed in their resignations, declaring they wouldn't sleep in the place another night, "with that thing in it!" Mamie Sparks, the colored laundress, had vanished at dawn. Jane had collapsed, which helped further to upset the household routine.
There was nothing I could do but to face it out. One thing I was thankful for, the calm and unruffled physiognomy of our new butler, Schweizer, who had taken Orkins' place, a middle-aged, round-faced German, who apparently had the proverbial goose's back, upon which rain has no effect.
In the midst of startling events, Jane's collapse really concerned me most. In a poor state of nerves myself, I finally induced Pat to accompany me to Jane's apartment, in an early forenoon gesture to cheer her up. As she was in bed, I did not make my presence known at first, choosing to remain in an adjoining room, where I could easily hear everything that was said between her and Pat.
Pat had no sooner entered the bedroom when Jane showed the nervous tension under which she was laboring. "I shan't sleep a wink as long as that thing stays in the castle," she said.
"Oh, nonsense! You are acting perfectly absurd, Aunt Jane," Pat returned, in a manner light and gay, but even the casual listener could have noted that Pat herself did not favor the idea of Henry's harboring this monstrous creature. "Why, this funny man-ape is as harmless as a poodle dog."
"Doesn't he frighten you?" Jane asked, in an awed whisper.
"Frighten me? I should say not! Why, Uncle Henry took me into its room this morning, before breakfast, and the creature was as gentle and affectionate as a kitten. It fascinates me. I'm really growing fond of it."
"But how is Henry going to manage it?" asked Jane.
"Oh, in several ways," Pat replied. "One is to dress it up in the latest style, and entertain it as befits a good-will ambassador from another planet. Niki, you know, is already acting as its valet, and teaching it good manners. The other, is to leave it 'as is,' and exhibit it before the leading scientific societies. Now, which do you advise?"
"Oh, stop, Pat!" Jane said, in an annoyed voice. "That's going too far. I know it's silly of me to be so afraid of the thing, but you're worse to play with it like that. It's right in Henry's line, though, and he's welcome to it. But, my dear, please, try and make him give it to some zoo, where it rightfully belongs, not in one of our best bedrooms. Anything to relieve us of the creature's unwanted presence."
"But it isn't a creature so much as we thought at first," Pat explained, sitting on the edge of Jane's bed, and patting her waxy, yellow hand. "The doctor from the village says it's almost genuinely human, like ourselves. It chatters now; says things you can't make head or tail of, in a strange tongue, of course. And—we've given it a name. At least, Mr. McGinity suggested one, which has met with Uncle Henry's approval, a name formed by the letters of the radio signal station of Mars. From now on our guest is a 'him,' and not an 'it,' and we're to address him as Mr.—" She paused, and then spelled the name—"Z-Z-y-x."
"Gracious!" Jane exclaimed. "How will you ever pronounce a name like that?"
"It's pronounced something like—Sykes. Like the name of Bill Sikes, in Dickens' 'Oliver Twist.'"
"All this doesn't matter," Jane groaned. "I tell you, I won't sleep another night in the castle with that ugly, hairy thing in it! I'll—I'll pack up and go—"
"Where could you go?" asked Pat, amusedly.
"I'd go somewhere," Jane declared, desperately.
"But I'm sure things will manage themselves," Pat went on, with a kindly smile; "and I don't think Uncle Henry will agree to presenting Mr. Zzyx to a zoo. Neither do I apprehend any trouble at all. But if trouble arises, we've got some one now who will tackle it when it comes—Mr. McGinity!"
At this I took my courage in my hands, if only to save Pat from embarrassment in any further discussion of the reporter. Poking my head through the half-open door, I said: "And how are you, dear Jane? Brave as ever I can see."
"Oh, Livingston!" she said. "I hope you and Henry are not being bothered to death by all these horrid reporters in the house?"
"Oh, no," I replied; "they are all very polite, and nice enough. The police people are here, too, and a perfect army of cameramen. Strangers tramping all through the house, and over the grounds—over your nice rugs and lovely flowers. And the servants are leaving, one by one. Mamie Sparks stole away at the crack of dawn. Too bad, really, that we haven't someone, some strong-minded woman, to take the helm."
Jane remained silent for a moment, in deep reflection, then she sat up suddenly in bed, and exclaimed, as she thumped her pillow: "I'll get at these reporters and cameramen and police, and they shan't bother poor Henry any longer! Tramping over my lovely rugs and flowers, indeed!" She turned to Pat, and added: "Call Fifi at once, my dear. I'm getting dressed and coming downstairs."
Everything was comparatively quiet when Jane finally came down, pale and a little shaken, but now firmly resolved to preserve the routine and dignity of our house. I said to her: "After all, Jane, it's none of our business to interfere in Henry's affairs." And to my great surprise, she agreed; and from that time on, we both joined in all the fuss and clamor, but with a good deal of misgiving, and not without some trepidation.
Except for the crowd of curious village and country people congregated outside the lodge-gate, by noon, the castle had resumed its normal appearance. It was pretty much of a bedlam, though, earlier in the day, when the reporters and cameramen from the city newspapers again besieged us. Henry, at first, with something of his old inherent distaste for reporters showing itself, was against admitting them to the premises. "Damn them all!" he exclaimed to McGinity, in my presence. "If your paper has the story, why doesn't that suffice for all?"
"It doesn't suffice, as you say, by any means," McGinity replied. "Every City Editor expects the reporter he assigns to this story, to get all available information first-hand. The story of the rocket's arrival has now been published, in the Daily Recorder, thanks to you, sir, and the public must still be served. The public craves not only news stories but pictures."
"There you are!" said Henry. "And I'm expected to stand by and let this mob in, to swarm over my place, from which, for years, I've succeeded in keeping strangers out." Noticing that McGinity was smiling, he added: "And I'm not so well pleased either, young man, over the fact that a number of sketches and photographs were used in conjunction with your story this morning, when I distinctly told you I did not wish any pictures taken."
"Oh, come, now, Mr. Royce!" said McGinity. "I'm afraid you're being a bit unfair. Personally, I didn't break faith. But I can't control my City Editor. These sketches you speak of were made under his orders, from my verbal description. He also had photographs taken of the beach from a plane, marking with an 'x' the spot where the rocket landed. After all, Mr. Royce, what's a story without a picture?"
"I see," said Henry, smiling rather grimly.
"Another thing," McGinity went on, in a more serious tone. "You're putting over something very fantastic—almost incredible—on the public. First, your demonstration of radio communication with Mars, in Radio Center. And, now, you come along with the story of the landing of this rocket, predicted in the Martian radio message. This last incident will be rather hard to explain, especially the discovery of the rocket's passenger, this black, hairy thing, whose presence in the rocket was not foretold, or mentioned, in the message from Mars." He hesitated for a moment, then continued: "Now, nobody is under suspicion, of course, but you are backing something now that strains the imagination even more than the interstellar radio contact."
"Tut, tut!" Henry exclaimed. "It's not incredible. There's plenty of evidence to support my claims."
"All well and good, Mr. Royce," McGinity said, rather pompously. "So what's the use of any more secrecy? You've started something, and you've got to go through with it. You must admit these reporters and let them make a thorough examination of everything. The cameramen must be permitted to take all the pictures they want, especially of the man-beast from Mars, amid all the luxuries with which you have surrounded him."
Henry agreed to this, but much against his will, as I could tell by his voice. "All right," he said. "Turn 'em loose!"
The gate was opened, and the newsgatherers and photographers streamed in. There was nothing on the premises that escaped their notice. Breaking in on the silence of the castle, they peered into the big vault-like rooms, stared at the old tapestries and paintings, and the grand staircase. It gave me quite a start when I overheard one reporter remark to another: "Gee, fellow! This is as great a spot for a nice, quiet murder as ever I saw! Who'd ever hear anything from the road outside?"
Two hours passed in statement and explanation, question and answer. The incredible thing had happened, and we were just as much in the dark as the reporters. Everything was still mysterious and secret. I had been dreading that they might accuse Henry of faking. But they all appeared to be deeply impressed, and very grateful to Henry for his openness and going to all this trouble.
By the time the press had departed en masse, we were beginning to feel the force of the curiosity aroused in the outer world by McGinity's exclusive story. Our telephone bell trilled constantly; there were transatlantic calls from the leading London and Paris papers; messenger boys bearing telegrams and radiograms kept up an almost ceaseless procession between the castle and the village. Various old friends from neighboring country estates dropped in.
This caused great trouble to all of us, but we were not so uneasy as we had been the day previous, as we now had a police guard. Lunch was just over when a group of scientists swooped down on Henry. Olinski had returned to the city. The visiting group included representatives from the North American Museum of Natural History, the New York City Historical Society, the New York Museum of Science, and the Exploration Club. Among these unexpected visitors was an agent from the Bronx Zoo, who declared at once that Mr. Zzyx was a species of giant chimpanzee, and, in the same breath, admitted he might be mistaken. Finally, he said he didn't know what "the damned thing" was.
After crowding around and inspecting the rocket, which had been transferred from the beach to our terrace, for exhibition purposes, the scientists passed upstairs to study Mr. Zzyx, who happened to be on his best behavior. They could hardly believe their eyes; they were awed as never before in their lives.
When I stepped into the bedroom, they were gathered about Mr. Zzyx's bed, while Henry, in a businesslike manner, expressed his views.
"I am here to say to you, gentlemen," he began, "that to the best of my knowledge and belief, that radio message last Tuesday night, and now this rocket, and its strange passenger, originated on Mars. And it is not so incredible as we might think. We have reached a period in the earth's history and the evolution of man when we must expect new revelations.
"We are all deeply concerned in creature evolution as a purposeful, magnanimous demonstration of the Omnipotence of God. Man's nearest relatives are the chimpanzee and the gorilla. Brutes and humans belong to one great family by common descent. Only by strong imagination can we picture to ourselves men of the Neanderthal race, who lived on earth at least 100,000 years ago. Except for the imperishable records on the walls of caves in France, have we any clear conception of the artistic race of Cro-Magnons, who inhabited France and Spain, in a subarctic climate, 30,000 years ago; and they had powers, equal, if not superior, to our own.
"Now, there, gentlemen," he continued, pointing to the blinking Mr. Zzyx, "we have before us a sample of the evolution of man that is still taking place on Mars. As we all know, evolution is a law of Nature as universal in living things as is the law of gravitation in material things and in the motions of the heavenly spheres.
"This creature, however, is the same handiwork as ourselves. In many respects, as you will observe by his countenance, the human aspect has been attained. He comes from a planet where conditions of life appear to be somewhat similar to our own; where there are white men with a highly developed intellect, and black, hairy men of a low order of intelligence.
"Gaze, now, at Mr. Zzyx, for that is the name we have given him. Notice his arms and hands, which are first in importance on the operative side of the activities of the human organism. See how he picks up and handles that picture book. He even turns its pages by licking his thumb; and a well-defined thumb it is. Now, he stares at the pictures.
"Now, gentlemen, observe more closely as Niki hands him that empty drinking glass. Mr. Zzyx knows it is empty, therefore he shakes his head. Niki fills it with water. Ah, he shakes his head again! Now, watch! Niki has emptied the glass, and again he offers it, half-filled with champagne. See! He knows the difference at once. He nods his head. That grimace is a smile. He takes the glass in his hands, tips it, and, lo and behold, he gulps it all down. Good champagne, that, gentlemen!
"And, now, you have seen in Mr. Zzyx a co-ordination of hands and brains. Brain is of first importance, as you know, on the directive side of the activities of the human organism. And what you have seen, altogether, I believe, proves conclusively that life originated on Mars, and is still in course of evolution, on the same principles as on earth."
Following his somewhat lengthy discourse, Henry was subjected to a severe grilling by his fellow scientists, under which he grew defiant. Finally, he exclaimed: "See here, I'm not trying to put something over on you, my learned fellows! This is all as mysterious to me as it is to you."
The scientists left about four o'clock, wagging their heads, and unanimously agreeing that the whole thing had them fooled. Half an hour after they had gone, a familiar figure projected itself into the scene.
Prince Matani had a habit of calling around tea-time. He had abandoned all pretensions to being other than he was, a hard-boiled sceptic of everything that had transpired in relation to the planet Mars. Jane, Pat and I were gathered around the tea table, on the shady side of the terrace, when he appeared.
"Good afternoon, everybody," he greeted us jovially, and then he dropped his light manner, and put a copy of that morning's Daily Recorder in Pat's hand.
"I suppose you've read that awful stuff?" he said.
"Yes," Pat replied; "and it's all true."
The Prince shrugged. "What are the police doing here?" he asked.
"On guard," I informed him.
"On guard—for what, pray? Surely you're not frightened of a little baboon that came wrapped up in that toy sky-rocket?"
"We're all pretty shaky," said Pat.
"In that case, I shall invite myself to spend the night here, and go on guard. I want to be sure you're safe." He leaned over Pat, his face diffused with amorous longing.
Pat tweaked his ear. Her attitude towards him, while not exactly affectionate, was always chummy. "I hope you won't mind doubling up on the guard business," she said.
"Who is it?"
"McGinity, the reporter," I replied quickly. "One could hardly call him a guard, though, he's our house guest. He's now preparing his story for tomorrow morning's paper, with the assistance of Henry and the village doctor. If you have any doubts about it, just glance into the library."
"More rot!" said the Prince, ignoring my suggestion. "More gush about something that isn't true. And I know."
"You think you know," put in Jane, handing a cup of tea to Schweizer, to pass to the Prince.
"Now, just what do you mean by that, Miss Royce?" the Prince asked.
"You can't make a fair guess at something you haven't seen," she replied. "We've seen with our own eyes, and we're convinced that this little baboon, as you call it, is a visitor from Mars."
"I don't and can't believe any such nonsense," the Prince returned, with emphasis on the "can't."
"Meaning that you're afraid to go upstairs and see for yourself," said Jane, a bit snappily.
"He won't do you any harm," I broke in.
"Maybe, I'm only nervous, but—please don't risk going upstairs, alone," Pat joined in, suppressing a smile.
"What sort of a conspiracy is this?" The Prince glanced from Pat to me, and then to Jane. "Why on earth should I be afraid of a little baboon, that's probably escaped from some zoo or circus? You're not like yourselves at all. You're all three frightened by this yellow reporter's stories, and you really don't know what you're saying. A visitor from Mars?" He laughed out loud. "All piffle!" he continued. "And I'll soon find out for myself, and prove to you it is piffle."
He strode off, rather unceremoniously, and apparently in high dudgeon. About ten minutes after he had gone, I was gazing fixedly through the window into the entrance hall, when Niki suddenly appeared and beckoned excitedly through the window for me to come inside.
I went in to him. "What's wrong, Niki?" I asked.
He blinked at me, and stuttered a moment before he could find his voice. "Sorry to disturb you, sir," he said, in a low, shaky tone, "but something has happened to His Highness. Better come up, in a hurry. Queeck, sir."
I stood uncertain for a moment, and happening to glance toward the window, I saw Pat was watching us. I signaled to her, as best I could, to come inside without alarming Jane. Once she was in, I told her what Niki had just reported, and instructed her to go quickly to the library and notify Henry.
I hurried upstairs then to the State Apartment, with Niki at my heels, wondering what could have happened to the Prince. The bedroom door was slightly ajar; I pushed it open and walked in. Crouching on the edge of the big double bed, amid disordered sheets and pillows, was that enormous creature from Mars, glowering at the Prince, who was stretched out on the floor beside the bed.
I tried to rouse the Prince, but he made no response, remaining stiff and rigid. His eyes were wide open and staring; on his face was fixed a look of utter terror.
Then I recalled what Olinski had told me about his suffering from his family's hereditary affliction. Some shock, or unusual excitement, and—pouf!—he was out. But I said nothing of this at that time.
According to the doctor, who accompanied Henry to the apartment, he had collapsed from shock and fright. But the doctor had only time for a preliminary examination on account of the frenzied actions of the creature in the bed. It took the combined strength of Henry and Niki to hold him while the doctor administered a hypodermic. Soon he was in the lethargy of a dose of morphia.
By that time, I had summoned the two chauffeurs, who carried the unconscious Prince to the Blue Room, and put him to bed. We were all hoping that he would awaken soon, so he could tell us what had occurred, but we were disappointed. He remained in a strange stupor, and the chauffeurs took turns sitting up with him that night.
Niki had no explanation to offer except that he had gone into the adjoining room for a few minutes, closing the door behind him very softly so as not to arouse the sleeping guest. He had not heard the Prince enter the bedroom, and his first intimation that any one was there came with a piercing, blood-curdling cry, and then a heavy thud on the floor. He had rushed back into the bedroom to find just what I had found when first entering the bedroom.
Hearing this, I was entirely convinced that some horror had closed down on Prince Matani after he had entered the bedroom. I pictured him, taking in the whole scene at a glance, the monstrous creature in the bed, where he had expected to find a small chimpanzee, or baboon, and becoming, as it were, petrified with horror. And there must have been some reason for the sudden murderous fury of our Martian patient. Whatever it was, I felt the Prince was lucky to have saved his neck.
Taking it all in all, I was puzzled. The incident disturbed all of us. Pat looked anxious and tired at dinner, and went to her apartment very early in the evening.
Luckily, the presence of the police guard in the castle grounds had relieved my apprehensions; even at that, I was unable to sleep. Several times during the night, I got up and went to the Prince's room, to inquire about his condition. On my last call, about four in the morning, George, the chauffeur, informed me that the Prince appeared to be sleeping naturally, so I urged him to get a little sleep himself.
With some sense of relief, I finally went to sleep myself. Imagine my surprise, on awakening a few hours later, to find that the Prince had gone. Niki, an early riser, reported to me that he had seen the Prince steal quietly from his bedroom before any one else was up, and go downstairs. It appeared likely that he had telephoned from his room to the village for a taxi-cab, without arousing George, for he drove away a few minutes after coming downstairs. He acted like a crazy man, Niki said.
XVII
Never before had I realized what it meant to be in the public eye. Our family privacy, held virtually sacred, was no longer so. We really had less privacy at the castle during the days and weeks following the discovery of the rocket from Mars on the beach than the hippopotami at the Central Park Zoo. It was not unusual for me to find scientists, explorers, college professors, high school teachers and reporters, wandering in groups about the place, as though it were some museum, and staring at me as if I were a recently acquired Egyptian mummy at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
And never before had I believed it possible to make a man out of a monkey, a gentleman out of a chimpanzee, no more than one can make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. But that is precisely what had happened.
It was now the first of November, and plenty out of the ordinary had been happening. And everything that did occur had failed to arouse either surprise or wonder in me. I had become so satiated with unusual, stirring, hair-raising occurrences that I had begun to wear a hard-boiled look on my face, like a hardened criminal, fed up with cracking safes, kidnapping rich children for ransom, and bumping people off; and this cultivated look of mine really expressed more than anything else my patient acceptance of the fact that one never knows what is going to happen next in this world.
The only strange note at the castle around November first was Mr. Zzyx, our guest from Mars, a village policeman on guard in front of it, and a cameraman lurking somewhere about, waiting to get a picture of the man-ape, should he go out on the terrace with Niki for a stroll, or drive off with Henry, to keep a dinner engagement.
We—that is, Jane, Pat and I—no longer exhibited any outward signs of objecting to Mr. Zzyx's presence in the castle. What was the use? Henry was master, and what he decreed was law. Confidence, to some degree, had been restored in our domestic affairs. The servants, who had been scared off from fright, had returned to their old jobs; even Mamie Sparks, our colored laundress, had come back. I burst into a roar of laughter one day when, coming into the servants' quarters, and remembering Mamie's strange experience with me on the first night we had harbored Mr. Zzyx, I found her carefully, and proudly, ironing his enormous shirts and underthings, which seemed more suitably fitted for a baby elephant.