AN EAVESDROPPER
The Moonbeam was to take off from Kasumigaura at half-past seven on
Sunday morning. Mr. Hammond had reached the airport at a very early hour
but it was not until seven-fifteen that he saw in the distance a group
of cars bringing the last laggard passengers, among them Dulcie and her
elderly escorts, Doctors Trigg and Sims.
Mr. Hammond gave a sigh of relief, and went at once into the directors’
room where their Excellencies, the Japanese Ministers of State and War,
awaited him. There were the last compliments to be paid, the last papers
to be signed, the last farewells to be spoken, and at twenty minutes of
eight the Moonbeam took flight.
As on her arrival, she circled the city of Tokio, returned to salute the
port of Kasumigaura, and sailed out over the Pacific Ocean on the last
leg of her journey around the world.
At nine o’clock Mr. Hammond, watching the endless expanse of glistening
water from the windows of the control room, suddenly remembered
something.
“Why, I haven’t had my breakfast,” he said to David. “Clean forgot it!”
“You had better have some coffee, hadn’t you, sir? I could do with a cup
myself.”
Giving the wheel to Van Arden, the two started for the salon. At the
door Mr. Hammond stopped.
“What the—what’s this?” he demanded, looking suspiciously at Dulcie. In
the middle of the room stood a large chest made of exquisite wood-inlay,
delicately colored. It was evidently an antique, rare as well as
beautiful. “Dulcie, I told you we didn’t want to take any more weight on
board.”
“That’s not more weight. That’s Mr. Hamilton,” Dulcie explained sweetly.
“Mr. Hamilton! Now what do you mean, Dulcie?”
“Well, daddy, Prince Hata made me a present of that chest, and I really
didn’t forget what you said about weight. But I found I could lift one
end of the chest quite easily, and you know I couldn’t lift an end of
Mr. Hamilton. So I thought to myself, ‘There! Mr. Hamilton has left the
ship, and my chest can go in his place.’ I think it was rather clever of
me, don’t you?”
Mr. Hammond groaned.
“And,” Dulcie went on, “I was dying to tell Doctor Trigg and Doctor Sims
and David about my visit to the palace, but I wouldn’t until you were
here.”
“Amazing abnegation,” said Doctor Sims.
“Well, if abnegation means being perfectly crazy to tell, and waiting
patiently for hours and hours till my own father can hear it first, why,
that’s it,” said Dulcie. “Go on and eat, you two, and I’ll tell about
it.
“The two princesses came for me. Dad, you should have seen them. Paris
frocks, tricky hats, wonderful shoes. Absolutely the latest things in
sport clothes. They both speak perfect English, even up-to-date slang.
And they said, ‘What a dear you are to come! We have been dying to meet
you, but we have been down at the summer palace, and only got home late
last night!’ And it seems they are ladies-in-waiting to the Empress and
had to get permission to leave for a few hours.
“When we reached the palace, they said to come up to their rooms while
they dressed, and I could tell them all about dear old Vassar, and how
awful it was about the last Army and Navy game. We went through an
Aladdin’s palace to reach their rooms, where a couple of maids appeared
by magic, and the girls simply dashed out of their frocks and were put
into layers of Japanese robes, crusted stiff with gold embroidery. It
seems the princess, their mother, does not allow them to wear foreign
dress in the home. She is old-school. I asked what about me, but they
said I was all right.
“The last big sash was just tied on when the princess sent for us, and
we went down to the audience room. I was scared to death. I followed
them into the room, and there was the princess sitting in a carved chair
on a little platform, with a group of attendants behind her. The girls
went up and bowed very low, and spoke to their mother in sweet-sounding
Japanese. The old princess held up her tiny little old hand in a gesture
of greeting, and I made a deep, deep curtsey, nearly to the floor. When
I looked up she was smiling at me, and her little face looked so kind
and plain under its jeweled headdress that I curtsied again.
“She said something to the princesses that they didn’t translate, but
they told me later that she was very much pleased with me. Wasn’t that
lucky? I did so want to be a credit to you!
“Then we stood and talked, and sipped tea, and the princess asked me
questions which the girls translated. She sent all sorts of
felicitations to you on your flight. Presently she gave a signal, and I
said good-bye, and sort of backed out, leaving her there in the middle
of that enormous room full of wonders, looking for all the world like an
old ivory figurine.
“We went into a queer, sweet room where Prince Hata was waiting for us,
and luncheon was served—a real Japanese meal with a few American extras
for me. When the Prince had to go back to you, we went back to the
girls’ rooms, and talked college, and all that. I know a number of the
girls they know at home, but I guess I am the only one who knows how
very important they are over here. They are both coming to visit me next
winter.”
“Good-night!” exclaimed David.
“They are just regular girls,” said Dulcie. “Of course, being princesses
has its drawbacks, but they have had lots of good times, even so.
“Well, while we were talking a couple of men-servants came in with this
chest. It was for me, from Prince Hata. The girls evidently expected it,
for they hopped up and clapped their hands, and in came a couple of
maids carrying a whole outfit of Japanese ceremonial robes. Everything a
princess would wear at court.
“Then the older princess brought a square box, and said, ‘This is from
mother,’ and there was a jeweled headdress.
“They had me take off my dress, and the two maids dressed me up in
everything. Daddy, I looked too grand! I’m going to give a Japanese
party just as soon as we get back. And we’d better put in a Japanese
garden for it. You can radio that big landscape man. He’ll know how to
make one.”
Mr. Hammond sighed. “The parent pays,” he paraphrased sadly.
Dulcie ignored that.
“When you see everything, you won’t blame me for bringing it along.” She
opened the chest, which smelled pungently of mysterious perfumes, and
one by one lifted out the priceless garments and the wonderful
headdress.
“Museum pieces, every one,” declared Doctor Trigg.
“I don’t know what to say to all this,” said Mr. Hammond.
“There is nothing you can say,” said Dulcie. “I had a hard time saying
anything, myself. I was simply flabbergasted.”
“How did you get it out here?”
“Oh, that nice Bill had a friend drive it out in a Ford truck. Bill is a
nice boy. He gave me a package, too, when I shook hands good-bye. Think
of that! I told him, by the way, dad, that if he ever wanted to
chauffeur in America, he could drive for me.”
“Har!” said Doctor Sims twice.
“Here is the package. Let’s open it.” She undid the soft paper, and
found an inner wrapping of silk around a quaint box of hand wrought
silver. Opening it, she gave a little cry of delight.
“Oh, Bill shouldn’t have done this!” she cried, holding up a jewel. It
was a heart made of a close-set line of red stones. Within the heart, on
a fragile bit of chain, hung a large pear-shaped pearl.
“Look at it!” whispered Dulcie.
“Well, well,” said Doctor Trigg, taking the exquisite thing in his hand.
“Fortunately I can explain this to you, Dulcie. In my studies of the
Orient, its peoples and customs, I distinctly remember a description of
this very jewel. It is a gift designed especially for young girls just
budding into womanhood. This heart typifies the heart of woman. Red
blood (the sacred rubies) trace its outline. Within hangs this pearl,
the tear which is within every heart. But it cannot escape while the
sacred rubies imprison it. A lovely thought.”
“Another museum piece,” said Doctor Sims.
“Bill shouldn’t have done it,” repeated Dulcie, in an absolutely
stricken tone. “How will he ever pay for it?”
“Don’t worry,” said Doctor Trigg. “He won’t feel it. You see, Dulcie,
his position as chauffeur was rather a lark. It was only for the
duration of our visit. Bill’s name is really Prince Kayoto. He is Hata’s
cousin.”
“Oh, oh!” cried Dulcie. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He didn’t wish it. Besides, it was really immaterial. You treated him
like a prince.”
“Yes, I offered him a job—a good job as chauffeur!” She laughed.
“It will give you both something to laugh over when you come to
Princeton next winter to visit Trigg and me,” said Doctor Sims so
unexpectedly that Mr. Hammond stared. “Kayoto is enrolled as a student.”
Dulcie folded the garments and put away her treasures in the beautiful
chest.
The remainder of the day was very quiet on board the Moonbeam. Everyone
was exhausted from their strenuous days in Japan, and welcomed a rest.
It was only about eight o’clock that evening when Dulcie said, “I am
going to leave you three boys,” and smiled at her father and Doctors
Trigg and Sims. “Good-night, daddy.” She pulled him down and kissed him.
“You, too,” she added, walking over to the two doctors. “You are both so
sweet to me.” She dropped light kisses on the professors’ withered
cheeks, and went away.
“A nice child—a sweet child,” said Doctor Trigg, softly.
Doctor Sims touched his cheek with a careful finger. Finally he said,—
“Trigg, I am beginning to wonder if a lifetime spent in the unbroken
dissemination of knowledge, exclusively to men’s classes, does not
occasionally leave something, a subtle intangible something, to be
desired.”
Doctor Trigg looked at his friend. “Poor old Sims,” he said; then as an
afterthought, “Poor old me!”
By the following morning the Moonbeam had made more than her usual
mileage. She seemed destined to escape the stormy, unsettled winds that
had kept the Graf Zeppelin dodging while on the same lap of the journey.
Far ahead, ominous masses of black clouds would pile up, only to melt
away as they approached. On either side they watched sudden storms rise,
struggle and disappear. It was as though they were moving in a charmed
area, where there were no adverse currents and the steady tail-wind
persisted. The hours passed uneventfully enough to please even as
exacting a pilot as David.
Radiograms flew back and forth from Friedrichshafen, Tokio, Los Angeles,
San Francisco and New York, while from numbers of American cities came
messages asking the Moonbeam to divert her course sufficiently to pay
them an aerial call.
Mr. Hammond found it hard to refuse these requests. He was so proud of
the Moonbeam that he wanted the whole country to see their American
dirigible. He kept a list of the radiograms, and determined to make a
later trip which would embrace all the larger cities of the United
States. He was bombarded with requests by radio from eager, highly
efficient publicity men, taking time by the forelock, and offering every
known inducement for a word of commendation from him for products
ranging from cigarettes to breakfast bacon. Far away as they still were,
they commenced to feel the stir and restlessness that is America.
High spirits prevailed, and an ever-increasing sense of friendliness. A
pool was made on the day’s mileage, and wagers as to the exact hour and
minute of sighting land. Late in the afternoon the youngest reporter
exclaimed, “Say, d’you know that it’s tomorrow that we gain a day? We go
to bed Monday night and wake up Monday morning. Gee, isn’t that funny?”
“Har, no!” said Doctor Sims. “What’s a day lost or gained in the
immensity of time?”
“Time has no immensity, except in perspective,” said Doctor Trigg. “An
extra day may be of paramount importance to our young friend.”
“He himself is merely an infinitesimal atom,” said Doctor Sims,
regarding the youngest reporter critically. “So are you; so am I.”
“Undoubtedly. But as an atom, I confess that I regard the gaining of a
day with a certain thrill. One day, Nicholas! A day which may change the
course of empire, breed great men, give some needed discovery to the
world, write a deathless song, or see a noble deed done.”
“Or some great wrong,” added Doctor Sims.
“If so, Nicholas, be sure that Time will right it.”
“It will mean an extra eight-eighty on my pay check, anyhow,” said the
youngest reporter.
“Didn’t I tell you, Nicholas?” asked Doctor Trigg.
“You tell me so much!” exploded Doctor Sims wrathfully.
When everyone woke up to their second Monday, there was a feeling that
something out of the ordinary ought to happen to celebrate it. But the
extra day went serenely on its way, with what Doctor Sims called “an
ostentatious lack of incident.”
Whenever they were at liberty David and Red pored over the plans of
David’s invention, and talked about it with technical abandon. David did
not undervalue Red’s help, and it depressed his just and generous heart
to think that they could not benefit together on the invention, but to
secure the patent, manufacture and put it on the market would take more
thousands of dollars than both boys would possess in the next twenty
years.
David was faced by the conditions that discourage effort in so many
young inventors. Usually their sessions were broken up by Red’s furious
demand of fate to know why the barren farm in Oklahoma, only twenty
miles from Wally’s gushers, remained stubbornly dry. Twice had the
Ryans, pooling their meager resources, drilled down, never even reaching
sand.
David did not wish to mention his invention to Mr. Hammond until he had
put it up for the prize at the Goodlow School. He did not know that
Dulcie had spoken to her father about it. However, Mr. Hammond respected
his reticence, and asked no questions.
Late on that queer second Monday, Red met Dulcie in the control room.
“I hear you have bespoken a new chauffeur, Miss Hammond,” he said
quizzically. “I wonder you didn’t offer me the job.”
“I couldn’t,” said Dulcie. “I knew all the time that you are a prince.”
“Is it so?” said Red, his blue eyes dancing. “Well, ’twould have been a
pity not to have been recognized by a lady in one’s own rank. And,” he
added, “don’t think it strange that I have not lavished gifts on you
like those others. Truth is, I’m havin’ some stars taken down, very
careful, with some chunks of that Japanese moon, and set for your
wearin’, in bracelets of platinum dug in the Urals. All of which takes
time.”
David and Van Arden joined in the laugh. Red sauntered away, but an hour
later he was back, a troubled look on his face.
“There’s no use trying to make better time,” he said gloomily. “Those
engineers are doing their best, and so are the engines, but they have
their limitations. Gosh, how I hate to disappoint the Big Fella!”
They sauntered back to David’s stateroom.
“I wish I had my accelerators. They are so simple that we might have had
a set made in Tokio. I bet they would have speeded us up ten miles an
hour.”
“I wish the plans were in a safe,” said Red uneasily. “Where are they
now?”
“In that suitcase.”
“In that suitcase!” repeated Red loudly. “My Lord, anybody could lift
’em! And you’ve nothing on earth but my word to prove they are yours! It
has taken two years to perfect them, and before you could reconstruct
them, the other fellow could get the prize, or market them somehow. You
are crazy to leave them there.”
“Don’t be such an old woman, Red! No one knows about them, and if they
did, no one on this ship would take them. However, I wish we had a set
installed. As the engines are now, we simply can’t make better speed.
But with that friction removed and all the rest of it, there ought to be
a great difference.”
“Well,” said Red, “something has got to be done, and darned quick, or
we’ll be toddling into Lakehurst on Zeppelin time, or more. And we’d get
the merry ha-ha all around. Anyhow, you put those papers under lock and
key.”
David laughed, and followed Red forward to the chart room, where the
indicator stood stubbornly at seventy miles.
But they did not know that at the moment when they had stepped from
David’s cabin into the passage, a man had slipped like a shadow into
another room; a man, who, just outside David’s open door, had listened
to the conversation between the two friends.
The listener stood deep in thought.
“In the suitcase, eh?” he whispered. “Well, there’s no hurry.”
* * * * *
But that night Red woke suddenly. David, a flashlight in his hand, was
shaking him. He was very pale.
“Wake up, Red!” he said. “The plans are gone!”