Chapter 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.