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.