Part 11

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.

My mind reverts to that early morning when Prince Matani left us so suddenly after his mysterious and unfortunate encounter with our guest from Mars. Perhaps I am oversuspicious as I look back, but it did not ring true, that story of the Prince's as he had told it to me on the telephone on the day following his departure.

The condition in which we had found him in Mr. Zzyx's bedroom was not caused by shock or fright, he said; he had been suffering of late from dizzy spells, and had simply fainted. I don't suppose we'll ever know the truth about it. At any rate, the incident had given him a good excuse to spend a month or so in California for his health, from which I gathered that he was hell bent for Hollywood and a film career. After he had gone, Pat saw a great deal more of McGinity, I noticed, without Henry suspecting it.

Apart from McGinity's valuable services in directing Henry's publicity, and keeping the public's interest keyed up to the highest pitch by his daily newspaper articles, I believe he had as much to do as Henry in the transformation that took place in our Martian visitor.

It is important to say here that at the beginning the public had accepted all these strange revelations from outer space without suspicion, and Henry had won the confidence of the people by stating that he was just as much puzzled about the different occurrences as they were.

But however things happened, three things were sure--facts. First, every one, practically the world over, had listened in to the deciphering of the mysterious dots and dashes on their radios, in the globe-encircling hook-up, that fateful Tuesday night; and this message was generally accepted as coming from Mars, which was then at its closest point to the earth in a hundred years.

Then the rocket, most curiously constructed, had reached the earth in a shower of meteors, which may or may not have been a part of the cosmic bodies which the radio message from Mars had reported as streaming over the planet, a fortnight before the projectile landed here. Lastly, a strange man-beast, totally unlike any living creature on the earth, and strongly resembling the Cro-Magnons, cavemen of 30,000 years ago, had been discovered in the rocket.

The creature in the rocket, Henry always contended, was incidental, but the reason for the rocket was vital. It was vital, he argued, because it carried a history, in code, of Mars and its inhabitants. This code, Olinski was still laboring over, day and night; and he had reported it was as cunning and mysterious a piece of work as he had ever seen. But the end was in sight. Any day now, and Henry could spring the glad tidings that the riddle of Mars had been solved. And in this new knowledge of life and conditions on the planet, he saw a means to dam the curious wave of doubt and suspicion regarding his claims that was threatening to engulf him and his theories.

What did matter, and it was almost fatal in that it gave impetus to this slowly rising tide of mistrust, was that no further radio messages from Mars had been received, following that Tuesday night demonstration. Both Henry and Olinski had made frantic efforts to re-contact the planet, but without result; and every known method to get understandable messages through to Mars was tried. The powerful radio stations of both the Army and Navy had stood by every night, for weeks, to listen in for possible signals from the planet, without success.

All this did not mean necessarily that people were losing interest. As a matter of fact, Henry didn't care what anybody thought. Even if no further messages came from Mars, he still had Mr. Zzyx, who was now living a very active and interesting life. He went out with Henry to clubs, to golf, to the homes of the very rich, and excellent dinners. And wherever he went, the police emergency squads had to be called out to handle the crowds.

The rocket was now reposing in a sealed glass case in the main lobby of the New York Museum of Science. Already it had been viewed by five million people, and they were still coming. Every day, from early morning until closing time, there was a queue of two abreast of those still eager to see the strange projectile that had hurtled through space.

Henry and McGinity gave Jane and me the surprise of our lives the first night they brought Mr. Zzyx downstairs for dinner. The transformation they had wrought in the creature was so utterly incredible that I burst out laughing. Equipped with an ample wardrobe, fashioned by the smartest Fifth Avenue tailors, Mr. Zzyx, through Henry's generosity, was now prepared to shine in the most brilliant and fashionable circles. And yet, even in modern dress, there was still something sinister and ominous about this huge, hairy beast that fairly appalled me.

At my instigation, both Jane and Pat had put extra bolts and locks on their bedroom doors. As for getting into my sleeping apartment, it would have been much easier to get into the safe deposit vaults of the National City Bank. Henry called such precautions "senseless absurdity." Probably such provision against danger was unnecessary, but Pat had had an adventure, shortly after Prince Matani's frightening experience, that had caused the three of us to play safe.