vest pocket, buttoned his vest, buttoned his inner coat, and buttoned
his overcoat, moving toward the outer door as he did so, the young
woman following him more and more slowly, the light in her eyes dying
with each successive buttoning. In fact, she did not enter into the
shadow at all, and Mr. Middleton stepped back a bit when he threw his
arms about her and pressed her to his bosom. Perfunctorily and coldly
did she yield to his embrace, but whatever ardor was lacking on her
part, was compensated for by Mr. Middleton, who clasped her with
exceeding tightness and showered kisses upon her pouting lips until
she pushed him from her, exclaiming with annoyance:
"You've kissed me quite enough, you great big softy."
Mr. Middleton said nothing of these transactions when on the ensuing
evening he sat in the presence of the young lady of Englewood, nor did
he, when on the evening thereafter he once more sat in the presence of
the urbane prince of the tribe of Al-Yam. Having handed him a bowl of
delicately flavored sherbet, Achmed began to narrate The Adventure of
Nora Sullivan and the Student of Heredity.
_The Adventure of Norah Sullivan and the Student of Heredity._
It was the time of full moon. As the orb of day dropped its red, huge
disk below the western horizon, over the opposite side of the world,
the moon, even more huge and scarcely less red, rose to irradiate with
its mild beams the scenes which the shadows of darkness had not yet
touched. Miss Nora Sullivan, a teacher in the public schools of the
metropolis, sat upon the front porch of the paternal residence
enjoying the loveliness of the vernal prospect and the balm of the
air, for it was in the flowery month of June. Although the residence
of Timothy Sullivan was well within the limits of the municipality of
Chicago, one visiting at that hospitable abode might imagine himself
in the country. From no part of the enclosure could you, during the
leafy season, see another human habitation. A quarter of a mile down
the road to the east, the electric cars for Calumet could be seen
flitting by, but except at the intervals of their passing, there was
seldom anything to suggest that the location was part of a great city.
A quarter of a mile to the west, on the edge of a marsh--a situation
well suited to such culture--lived a person engaged in the raising of
African geese. As it is probable that you may never have heard of
African geese, I will tell you that they are the largest of their
tribe and that specimens of them often weigh as high as seventy
pounds.
The person engaged in the culture of African geese was Wilhelm
Klingenspiel, a man of German ancestry, but born in this country. Miss
Sullivan had often heard of him, she had even partaken of the left leg
of an African goose, which leg he had given Mr. Sullivan for the
Sunday dinner, but she had never seen him. As Wilhelm Klingenspiel was
young and single and as no other man of any description lived in the
vicinity, it is not strange that Nora, who was also young and single,
should sometimes fall to thinking of Mr. Klingenspiel and wonder what
manner of man he was.
On this evening so attuned to romantic reveries, when the flowers, the
birds, and all nature spoke of love, more than ever did Nora
Sullivan's thoughts turn toward the large grove of trees to the
westward in the midst of which Wilhelm Klingenspiel had his home and
carried on his pleasant and harmless vocation of raising African
geese. The evening song of the geese, tempered and sweetened by
distance, came to her, accompanied by the most extraordinary booming
and racketing of frogs which is to be heard outside of the tropical
zone; for not only did Klingenspiel raise the largest geese on this
terraqueous globe, but having, as a means of cheapening the cost of
their production, devoted himself to the increasing of their natural
food, by principles well known to all breeders he had developed a
breed of frogs as monstrous among their kind as African geese are
among theirs. By these huge batrachians was an extensive marsh
inhabited, and battening upon the succulent nutriment thus afforded,
the African geese gained a size and flavor which was rapidly making
the fortune of Wilhelm Klingenspiel.
Nora had often meditated upon plans for making the acquaintance of
Wilhelm, but it was plain that he was either very bashful or so
immersed in his pursuits as to be indifferent to the charms of woman,
for he had never made an attempt to see Nora in all the six months she
had been his neighbor, and she was well worth seeing.
Accordingly, she decided that if she did not wish to indefinitely
postpone making the acquaintance of the poulterer, she must take the
initiative. Timothy Sullivan was a market gardener. Klingenspiel was
not the only man in the neighborhood who grew big things. Mr. Sullivan
was experimenting upon some cabbages of unusual size. He had started
them in a hothouse during the winter. Later transferred to the garden,
they had attained an amplitude such as few if any cabbages had ever
attained before. In the pleasant light of the moon, even now was he
engaged with the cabbages, pouring something upon them from a watering
pot. As she watched her father, it occurred to Nora that she could
find no more suitable excuse for visiting Mr. Klingenspiel than in
carrying him some present in return for the goose's left leg he had
presented her family for a Sunday dinner, and that there was no more
appropriate present than one of the great cabbages.
No sooner had her father gone in than, selecting the largest cabbage,
she started off with it, putting it in a small push-cart, as it was so
large as to be too heavy and inconvenient to carry. It was somewhat
late to call, but the evening was so delightful that Wilhelm
Klingenspiel could hardly have gone to bed. Proceeding on her way, as
the road passed into the swampy land of Klingenspiel's domain, her
attention was engaged by the fact that a most singular commotion was
taking place among the giant batrachians at some remote place south of
the road. Their ordinary calls had increased both in volume and
frequency, and at intervals she heard the sound of crashing in the
brake and brush, as if some objects of unheard of size were falling
into the marsh. Looking in the direction whence the sounds came, she
saw indistinct and vague against the night sky, an enormous rounded
thing rise in the air and descend, whereupon was borne to her another
of the strange crashings. These inexplicable sounds and the
inexplicable sight would have frightened Miss Sullivan had she not the
resources with which modern science fortifies the mind against
credulity and superstition. The round object, she told herself, was
some sudden puff of smoke on a railway track far beyond; the crashing
was the shunting of cars, which things, coming coincidentally with a
battle of the frogs, to an ignorant mind would appear to be a
phenomenon in the immediate vicinity. Bearing in mind that this
seemingly real, but impossible, phenomenon could only be due to a
fortuitous concatenation of actual occurrences, Nora was not disturbed
in her mind. Leaving her cart some little distance up the road, in
order that she might not be seen in the undignified position of
pushing it, she walked into Klingenspiel's front yard, bearing her
gift.
The two-story white house of Wilhelm Klingenspiel seemed to be
deserted. Despite the genial season, every door was shut, and so was
every window, so far as Nora could see, for if any windows were open
down stairs, at least the blinds were shut. There were no blinds in
the second story. Looking around in no little disappointment, she was
astonished to see a row of sheds and fences in rear of the house had
been demolished as if struck by a cyclone and that a goodly sized barn
had departed from its normal position and with frame intact was lying
on its side like a toy barn tipped over by a child. As she was gazing
upon this ruinage and striving to conjecture what had caused it, she
heard a voice, muffled and strange, yet distinctly audible, saying:
"Ribot is running amuck, Ribot is running amuck," and looking up she
beheld, darkly visible against the panes of an upper story window, a
human form. As she looked, the form disappeared and presently a person
rushed from the front door, hauled her into the house and upstairs,
where she found herself still holding her cabbage and observing a
short man of a full habit, with a round moon face, illuminated by a
large pair of spectacles that sustained themselves with difficulty
upon a very snub nose. He was nearly bald, yet nevertheless of a
kindly, studious, and astute appearance. One did not need to look
twice to see that Wilhelm Klingenspiel was a scholar.
"What--what--what is the matter?" exclaimed Nora.
"Ribot is running amuck."
"Who is Ribot?"
Klingenspiel was about to answer, when the whole air was filled with
what one would have called a squeal if it had been one fiftieth part
so loud, and over a row of willow bushes across the road leapt an
astounding great creature, twice as large as the largest elephant, and
Nora began to realize that her scientific deductions regarding the
phenomenon in the swamp had been utterly erroneous. The creature was
of an oblong build, rounded in contour, and its hide was marked by
large blotches of black and rufous yellow upon a ground of white. With
extreme swiftness the creature scurried down the road, its legs being
so short in proportion to its body and moving with such twinkling
rapidity that it seemed to be propelled upon wheels. The appearance of
this strange monster and the appalling character of its squealing,
caused Nora to tremble like a leaf, but the animal having departed, a
laudable curiosity made her forget her fears, and she asked:
"What is it?"
"That was Ribot."
"Who and what is Ribot?"
"Ribot was a celebrated French scientist, an authority on the subject
of heredity. You doubtless know something of the subject, how certain
traits appear in families generation after generation. Accidental
traits, if repeated for two or three generations, often become
inherent traits. To show you to what a strange extent this is true, I
will call your attention to the case of the ducal house of Bethune in
France, where three successive generations having had the left hand
cut off at the wrist in battle, the next three generations were born
without a left hand."
The erudite dissertation of Wilhelm Klingenspiel was here interrupted
by the reappearance of the mottled monster, who, with a scream that
filled the blue vault of heaven, rushed into the yard and paused
before a mighty oak, whose sturdy trunk had stood rooted in that soil
before the city of Chicago existed, before the United States was born,
when Cahokia was the capital of Illinois and the flag of France waved
over the great West. The flash of terrible white teeth showed in the
moonlight as the monster gnawed at the base of the tree a few times
and with a crash its leafy length lay upon the ground. Contemplating
for a brief space the ruin it had wrought, the monster emitted another
of its appalling screams and was off once more on its erratic, aimless
course.
"What in the world is this awful creature?" cried Nora.
"The subject of heredity," resumed Klingenspiel, "is one of vast
importance, and although its principles are well understood, man has
hitherto not touched the possibilities that can be accomplished. The
span of a man's life is so short that in selecting and breeding choice
strains of animals, an individual can see only a comparatively small
number of generations succeed each other. Suppose some one family had
for two hundred years carried on continuous experiments in breeding
any race of animals. What remarkable results would have been attained!
Behold what remarkable results are attained in raising varieties of
plants, where the swiftness of succeeding generations enables man to
accomplish what he seeks in a very short time. Observing the
difficulties that confront the animal breeder and wishing to see in my
own lifetime certain results that might ordinarily be expected only in
a duration of several lifetimes, I sought an animal which came to
maturity rapidly, whose generations succeeded each rapidly. At the
same time, I wanted an animal comparatively highly organized, a
mammal, not a reptile."
At this point, his instructive discourse was interrupted by the
reappearance of the monster, which charged into the yard with its nose
to the ground, following some scent, sniffing so loudly that the sound
was plainly audible despite the closed window. After having hastened
about the yard for a few moments it was off up the road to the
eastward, still with nose to the ground, until coming to the push cart
left at the roadside by Nora, it examined it carefully and then with a
sudden access of unaccountable rage, fell upon it and demolished it,
beating and chewing it into bits.
Whatever celerity this terrible beast had exhibited before, was now
completely eclipsed, as with nose to the ground, it rushed back to the
yard, straight to the house, and rearing on its hinder quarters,
placed its forelegs on the porch roof, which gave way beneath the
ponderous weight. Not disconcerted by the removal of this support, the
monster continued to maintain its sitting posture, looking in the
window at the terrified persons beyond, snapping and gnashing its huge
jaws in a manner terrible to hear and still more terrible to
contemplate. Nora was partially reassured by observing that the
animal's head was too wide to go through the window, but the hopes
thus raised were dashed by Klingenspiel moaning:
"He'll gnaw right through the house, he'll chew right through the
roof. He'll get in. He has smelled that big cabbage and he'll get in."
"In that case," remarked Nora, with decision, "I'll not wait for him
to come in to get the cabbage, but throw it out to him," and raising
the window, thrust out the cabbage, which having caught with a
deftness unexpected in a creature of its bulk, the beast retired a
short space and proceeded to eat with every appearance of enjoyment.
"In Paris, a few years ago," resumed Klingenspiel, "one of the learned
faculty that lend a well deserved renown to the medical department of
that ancient institution, the University of Paris, discovered an
elixir which used during the period of human growth--and even
after--causes the stature to increase. By depositing an increased
supply of the matter necessary to the formation of bones, the frame
increases and the fleshy covering grows with it. You have doubtless
read of this in the papers, as I have seen it mentioned there recently
myself----"
"I beg your pardon," interrupted Nora, "but I must know what that
monster is. Please do not keep me in suspense any longer."
"Allow me to develop my discourse in its natural sequence," said
Klingenspiel. "I learned of this elixir at the time its originator
first formulated it and as we were friends, I secured from him the
formula----"
"What is that animal?" cried Nora, seizing Klingenspiel's ear with a
dexterity born of long experience in educational work, and lifting him
slowly toward a position upon the points of his toes.
"A guinea pig, a guinea pig, a guinea pig," howled the student of
heredity.
"You guinea, you," exclaimed Nora in incredulous amazement, and yet as
she looked at the monster, which having finished the cabbage was
crouching contentedly between two huge elms, she was struck by the
familiarity of the markings and contour of the tremendous brute.
Turning in such wise that of the appendices of his countenance it
should be his short and elusive nose instead of his ears presented
toward the grasp of the expert in the science of pedagogy,
Klingenspiel continued.
"Generations of guinea pigs succeed each other in less than three
months. In less than ten months, a pair of guinea pigs become
great-grandfather and great-grandmother. In a few years, heredity
could here do what a century of breeding horses could not. I treated a
pair of young guinea pigs with the elixir. Their growth was wonderful.
Their children inherited the size of their parents and to this the
elixir added, and so on, cumulatively, for successive generations. I
kept only a single pair out of each brood and disposed of that pair as
soon as the next generation became grown. I did this partly because I
could thus conduct my experiment with greater secrecy. Besides, after
the guinea pigs were large enough, I found considerable profit in
selling their hides for leather. Unfortunately, the animal is unfit
for food. My labors, therefore, were bent upon creating a breed of
draught animals, creatures greater than elephants and with the agility
of guinea pigs. A team of these guinea pigs would outstrip the fastest
horse, though hauling a load of tons. The hide, too, would be
extremely valuable. I had at last reached a size beyond which I did
not care to go. Ribot and his mate were twice the bulk of elephants. I
was now ready to establish a herd. But alas! Two days ago, the mate
died. All my labors were for nothing. I had only the one enormous male
left. All the connecting links between him and the first small
ancestors are gone. But worse. As is often the case with male
elephants when the mate dies, Ribot went mad, ran amuck. Hitherto
docile and kind, as is the nature of the _Cavia cobaya_, vulgarly
called guinea pig, this evening Ribot became as you have seen him. I
have lost my labors. Momentarily I expect to lose my life."
"What's the matter with it now? Look at it, look at it," exclaimed
Nora.
Ribot had rolled on his back and after giving a few feeble twitches of
his great legs, remained without life, his legs pointing stiffly into
the air.
"He is dead," said Klingenspiel, and Nora was unable to tell whether
relief and joy or regret and despair predominated in this utterance.
"Ribot is dead. Our lives are saved, my experiment is ruined."
Turning toward Nora and scrutinizing her attentively for the first
time, he remarked, "How white your face is. The strain has been a
dreadful one. It has driven all the color away from you." And then
letting his eyes wander over her person until they paused upon her
hands resting in the moonlight upon the top of the sash, "and how
green your hands are. What can it be? Paris green," he said after a
close examination. "It was that which killed Ribot."
"I remember now. Father was sprinkling something on them. It is
cabbage worm time."
"I hope you will allow me to call," said Klingenspiel, and Nora
graciously assenting, he continued: "I admire your beauty, I admire
your many admirable qualities of head and heart, but above all, your
decision, your great decision."
"Oh, I don't think I showed much decision just because I threw the
cabbage out."
"I referred to your taking my ear and learning, out of its due order
in the thesis I was expounding, what manner of beast Ribot was. Ribot
killed two of my best African geese. They are, however, still fit for
food. I am going to beg your acceptance of one."
"We will have it for dinner to-morrow," said Nora, "and you must come
over."
"I shall be pleased to do so," said Klingenspiel, and that was the
beginning of a series of visits to the home of Timothy Sullivan that
resulted in the marriage of Miss Nora and Wilhelm Klingenspiel. The
latter still raises African geese there in the vicinity of Stony
Island, but he has made no more experiments with guinea pigs, for his
wife will not hear to it.
_What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Fourth Gift of the Emir._
"What an unpleasant surprise it must have been to Klingenspiel,"
remarked the emir, when he had completed his narration, "to find all
his fine experimenting in the science of heredity merely resulting in
nearly accomplishing his own death."
"His experience is not unique," said Mr. Middleton. "There is many an
economic, social, political, or industrial change which is inaugurated
with the highest hopes only to slay its author in the end."
"We should indeed be careful what waves we set in motion, what forces
we liberate," said the emir thoughtfully. "And I have been, too. I
have in my possession a constant reminder to be cautious in all my
enterprises and undertakings--a monitor forever bidding me think of
the consequences of an action, weigh its possible results. It has been
in my family for generations. I believe that our house has learned the
lesson. I would be glad to give it to some one who, perchance, has
not. If it so happens that you are in no need of such a warning, you
can perhaps present it to some one else who is." And having said a few
words to Mesrour in the language of Arabia, the blackamore brought to
him a small case and, from the midst of wrappings of dark green silk,
he produced a flask of burnished copper that shone with the utmost
brilliance. Handing this to Mr. Middleton and that gentleman viewing
it in silence for some time and exhibiting no other emotion than a
mild curiosity, largely due to its great weight, a ponderosity
altogether out of proportion to its size, the emir exclaimed in a loud
voice:
"Do you know what you are holding?" and without waiting for an answer
from his startled guest, continued: "Observe the inscription upon the
side and the stamp of a signet set upon the seal that closes the
mouth."
"I perceive a number of Arabic characters," said Mr. Middleton.
"Arabic!" said the emir. "Hebrew. You are looking upon the seal of the
great Solomon himself and that is the prison house of one of the two
evil genii whom the great king confined in bottles and cast into the
sea. In that collection of chronicles which the Feringhis style the
Arabian Nights, you have read of the fisherman who found a bottle in
his net and opened it to see a quantity of dark vapor issue forth,
which, assuming great proportions, presently took form, coalesced into
the gigantic figure of a terrible genii, who announced to his
terrified liberator that during his captivity, he had sworn to kill
whomsoever let him out of the bottle. This well-known occurrence and
stock example of the necessity of being careful of the possible
results of one's acts, is so familiar to you as to make its further
relation an impertinence on my part. Suffice it to say, in cause you
have forgotten a minor detail, there was another genii and another
bottle in the sea beside the one found by the fisherman.
"The second bottle in some unknown way came into the possession of
Prince Houssein, brother of my great-grandfather's great-grandfather,
Nourreddin. This latter prince having need of a certain amount of
coin--which was very scarce in Arabia at that time and of great
purchasing power, trade being carried on by barter--sent to his
brother a request for a loan. The country was in a very disturbed
state at that time and Houssein dispatched two messengers at an
interval of a day apart. The first of these was robbed and killed. He
bore a letter, concealed in his saddle, and the money. The second
messenger came in entire safety with that bottle, for no one could be
desirous of trifling with anything so fraught with danger as that
prison house of the terrible genii. What was the purport of this
strange gift has never been guessed. The letter borne by the murdered
man doubtless explained. Houssein himself perished of plague before
Nourreddin could learn from him."
Mr. Middleton sat holding the enchanted bottle very gingerly. If he
had not feared to give offence to the emir, he would have declined the
gift, for while not for one moment did he dream that a demoniac
presence fretted inside that shining copper, he did believe that it
contained some explosive, or what would be more probable, some
mephitic substance that gave off a deadly vapor. So, fully resolved to
throw the bottle into the river and being very heedful of Achmed's
injunction not to let the leaden plug bearing Solomon's seal be
removed from the mouth, he placed the gift in his pocket and having
thanked the emir for his entertainment and instruction and the gift,
he departed.