THE LADY PROFESSOR
The American's dreams of spectacles and blue _pagaris_ was swept
away, for standing facing him with expectant eyes was--a girl or a
woman, Hammer could not tell which.
There was some mistake, of course; self-possessed, cool, deliberate
in word and look as she was, this slender, brown-haired, brown-eyed
girl could not be the austere mistress of Semitic tongues----
"I beg your pardon," he found himself stammering weakly. "I didn't
mean that message for you; I wanted to see Miss Helmuth, the
scientific person who doesn't like my Arabic cuss-words."
A trace of red crept through her cheeks, but her eyes held his with
no response to the whimsical laugh of him.
"I am Miss Helmuth," she said coldly enough, not moving that he might
enter the tent, and appraising him keenly as she spoke.
Hammer stared at her in open disbelief, but not for long. Something
in the curve of the dark eyebrows and the set of the girlish mouth,
something in the poise of the small head, gave a hint of resolution
and firmness--and Hammer took the hint.
"Ah," and he bowed with his fine smile, "I trust you will pardon my
surprise. I was looking for a spectacled, gaunt lady of uncertain
age, and never expected to find----"
"I am not interested in your expectations, Mr. Hammer," her reply
came coldly. "What is your business with me?"
Again Hammer was taken all aback and could not quite readjust himself.
"Why--er----" It struck him that she would think that he was
attempting to flirt with her, and the thought sent him floundering
deeper. "You see, Miss--Professor, I mean--Professor Helmuth, I'm
first officer of the _Daphne_, and---- Oh, blame it all! Honest,
Miss Helmuth, get that look off your face or I'll run!"
A flicker of amusement came into her brown eyes, then it passed, and
her look hardened strangely. Hammer could almost have imagined that
she had been crying not so very long ago.
"Really, Mr. Hammer, I think that would be the best thing you could
do. I have no desire to have any dealings with you whatever. Kindly
state your business and go."
"Well, that's flat enough, anyhow." Hammer's eyes flashed for a
second. "But I must say that such downright discourtesy doesn't go
with your looks, professor, though anything might be expected of this
outfit.
"Still, as an American, you ought logically to be a little more human
and a little less priggish. If we were on Fifth Avenue I wouldn't
blame you, but here in Africa I should think you'd have more sense."
She gazed at him, her eyes widening, as if this direct attack
startled and surprised her. Hammer was instantly contrite.
"Well, I apologize again, professor. You certainly riled me up for a
minute, and I'm sorry I expressed myself so bluntly. I guess Krausz
wasn't to blame so much as I thought he was, if you handled him like
that. You see, I came over to ask you if you wouldn't show up at----"
"So you dare to carry out that bet made in a drinking bout with that
man Krausz and his associates?" Poor Hammer's jaw dropped as she
straightened up, anger in every feature, and fairly flung the words
at him.
"Haven't I been put to enough shame without having my name bandied
about over the wine and cigars? For a moment you nearly deluded me
into thinking you a man of another kind, Mr. Hammer."
"Eh? Say, professor, I don't think I'm wise to all this business by
a long shot! Look here---- No, don't fire up yet for a minute----
Tell me how you knew about that affair? It's true, of course----"
There was scorn in her eyes as the American stopped, embarrassed.
"If you want to know, I heard of it through one of my boys, who got
it from your own boys. Now, Mr. Hammer, you know the penalty
attached to entering this tent. If you dare to attempt it, either
you or your associates, I shall carry out my threat to the letter.
You may carry back that report. Good day."
With that she turned inside, but before she could lower the flap
Hammer sprang forward. His mind was in a swirl, and he only realized
the one great fact that this woman had a very wrong idea of him and
of his intentions. Catching the flap from the outside, he paused as
she whirled on him indignantly.
"Just a minute, Miss Helmuth! Look here! I'm not an associate of
Dr. Krausz, in the first place, and in the next I don't intend to
carry back any report. But I do want to square myself with you,
honest, and I think you might give me a chance."
He found himself, for the second time within twenty-four hours,
looking squarely into the muzzle of a revolver which she had plucked
from the table behind her.
"You step inside this tent, Mr. Hammer, and I fire."
"But, confound it!" he cried, astounded, "I haven't done----"
"Let go that flap and get out of here!"
Helplessly, Hammer stared into her brown eyes and read determination
there. He made one more attempt, however.
"Please listen to reason, professor! I'm not trying to put anything
over on you; all I want is to get out of this accursed place and to
make you look at the thing straight before I go. I didn't know I'd
got in so bad----"
"Let go that flap or I'll have my boys force you out of here bodily!"
The brown eyes were blazing with fury, but Hammer thought that never
had he seen a woman look so beautiful, so capable of taking care of
herself, so thoroughly efficient.
Realizing that she was in no mood to be argued with, however, he
obeyed her command; and as he turned on his heel a single word broke
from him with uncontrolled emphasis:
"Damn!"
The grinning face of Potbelly peered at him from a corner of the
tent, and he strode back to the other canvas with his ears burning.
It would have been a bad moment for any who had interfered with him
just then, and perhaps the cunning Kiswahili recognized the fact, for
they kept well out of his way.
The humiliation of the interview was maddening to him; and when he
called the boys who had been loaned him by the planter and found that
they had slipped home early that morning, he was in savage humour.
For a moment he determined to return to the tent of Professor Helmuth
and dare her to carry out her threat, but second thought decided him
against it.
She had been in earnest beyond any doubt--but why? From the very
face of her, she had too much good hard sense to be the prig Krausz
had painted her; and why should she be willing to carry out so
desperate a threat?
At this he recalled her words: "You know the penalty attached to
entering this tent." Why had this girl set such a penalty? That she
had done so, publicly, was evident from her words, nor did she bear
Dr. Sigurd Krausz any great love; yet she was his assistant; she had
come out from Dresden in charge of the preliminary work; she must
have known him well before she started; and, above all, Krausz was an
eminent man in his line of work.
Yet Hammer knew only too well how a man, once away from his natural
environment, may do things he never would have dreamed of doing
otherwise. Could it be that Dr. Krausz, or others of the party, had
insulted the girl?
"By Godfrey! That name Sara isn't so bad after all, come to think of
it," and Hammer rose, frowning. "I guess I'll go up and see that
chap. If he's been cutting any didoes around here I'll show him a
few things. I wish Harcourt was here; I'm blessed if I know what to
make of it all!"
He passed the she-professor's tent and strode up the hill; for if
there was to be trouble with the doctor, he wanted to have it over
with at once.
And as he went he patted the side-pocket of his coat, where his
old-style revolver still reposed; he remembered the way Krausz had
whipped out his weapon the evening before, and the thought was hardly
reassuring.
He found the doctor as he had left him, and under the direction of
the Germans the natives were beginning to make the dirt fly. Krausz
looked up, his heavy eyes narrowing slightly at sight of the
American's face; then he smiled cordially.
"Well, Mr. Hammer? And how did you find the _fräulein_!"
"A darned sight worse than I expected," returned Hammer frankly.
"See here, doctor: I'd like to know why she won't let a man enter her
tent under pain of firing at him, and why she's holding a grudge
against you?"
The ribbon of muscle began to beat under the skin of the other's
brow, though Krausz's expression never changed. Jenson apparently,
paid no attention.
"Pouf!" The big Saxon spread his hands with a Continental shrug.
"My dear fellow, it iss her fancy. What can you expect? She hass
never been here in Africa before, and she iss nervous. Ass to
dissliking me, why should she? Wass I not her father's friend before
he died?"
"How the devil do I know? It's a cinch she hasn't any love for you,
doctor; and I'd like to know why that girl has to barricade herself
in her tent, that's all. What's more, she isn't the sort to be
nervous."
Hammer looked down at the other, hands on his hips, his brown face
determined. He realized that he was beginning to dislike the sight
hissing accent of his employer, no less than that curious muscle in
the forehead, and the aggressive note in his voice was thinly veiled.
Krausz seemed surprised at the change in his first officer, and once
more his eyes narrowed; but this time they were menacing--so menacing
that Hammer felt uneasy.
"Are you her guardian, Mr. Hammer?"
"No; but I'm an American, and I used to be a gentleman."
"Then you will please not interfere in a family affair, my friend. I
am her guardian, the executor of her father's estate----"
"Now, see here, doctor. I'm not hunting trouble, understand; but I'm
fairly competent to handle any that comes my way. To know Semitic
languages and be curator in a big Dresden library takes time and
work; besides, I can tell from that girl's face that she's of age.
You're not her guardian any more than I am, if you want it straight."
"My dear sir, you missunderstand! Yess, she iss twenty-three years
of age, but I wass her guardian, ass she will tell you. I wass her
father's best friend, and in my arms he died, yess. It wass I who
got her that library position. Ah, come!" Krausz rose quickly and
patted Hammer on the shoulder, smilingly. "You and I, we are too big
men, yess, to be losing good humour over a little girl! _Lieber
Gott_! Iss she not to me like a daughter, no? Come down to
luncheon, my friend, and over a bottle will we forget all thiss----"
"No more bottles, I guess," said Hammer decidedly. None the less,
the scientist's words had their effect. "However, I don't want to
butt in, doctor, and I'm sorry I made a mistake. I go back to-night,
I suppose?"
"Yess; Baumgardner shall take you in the launch."
So the matter was closed. The American still felt a trifle uneasy;
but Dr. Krausz' words had placed the affair in a new light before
him, and he forced himself to the belief that he had interfered in
some petty quarrel where he had no concern. Krausz had succeeded in
spiking his guns.
With Jenson and Baumgardner, they sat down to a very enjoyable lunch
in the doctor's tent; for Krausz seemed to have brought no end of
chop-boxes from Mombasa, and the natives had fetched in plenty of
fruit, vegetables, and fresh meat.
Even Jenson seemed to attain some semblance of life, almost growing
enthusiastic over the work that had been begun; and the American
found Krausz cordial and entertaining as he had rarely been before.
He had an unfailing supply of his long black panatelas; and while all
four of them were sitting smoking and chatting over their coffee,
there came a sudden interruption.
"_Hodi_!"
All turned. There, standing unconcernedly in the doorway, was a
native streaked with sweat, his eyes roving from face to face, a
heavy fold of skin hanging in the slit lobe of one ear. Several of
the camp-boys stood behind him uncertainly. Once more he repeated
the Kiswahili greeting.
"_Hodi_!"
"_Karibu_," grunted Krausz; and then in English: "Who are you? What
is it?"
"_Bwana_ Hammer?" came the laconic query.
"That's me!" exclaimed the American. "What do you want?"
The Kiswahili looked him over for a second, then nodded as if to
himself and drew the skin from his ear-lobe. From it he took a small
packet and handed it to the American, after which, not deigning to
say another word, he turned and stalked away.
"Well, that's a funny proposition!" exclaimed Hammer, staring at the
heavy little object in his hand. The others said nothing, but Krausz
smoked furiously as he watched. Out of sheer decency Hammer felt
that he mast open the thing before them, and proceeded to do so,
wondering greatly what it was and why the bearer had not been more
loquacious.
Unwrapping a heavy fold of tissue-paper, he caught a little silver
ring that leaped out into his hand. It was a cheap thing enough, and
he remembered having seen just such things sold to tourists at Port
Said, with "Arabic initials engraved while you wait."
Sure enough, looking closer at it, he perceived a thin tracery on the
signet side; but his slight knowledge of Arabic did not extend to
reading the language, and he passed it over to the doctor with a
surprised laugh.
"Can you read Arabic, doctor?"
"_Nein_. Wass there no writing?"
"Not a scrap," said Hammer. "Let's get that boy back here."
The messenger was sent for, but he proved to have left camp without
waiting to so much as be fed--a thing unusual, to provoke comment
from the other natives.
"Well"--and Dr. Krausz shrugged his shoulders as he rose--"there iss
some misstake, or the letter hass been lost. It iss but a trifle.
We must get back to work, my friends, for the afternoon iss getting
on."
The others rose with a sigh, and they went off together, Hammer
stretching out luxuriously on a cot and wondering afresh where this
mysterious little ring could have come from, and what the engraving
meant. It was irritating, from its very littleness, while the
strange conduct of the messenger refused to be explained away.
If the thing had come from Harcourt it would have had some word with
it. In any case, what reason would Harcourt have for sending such a
thing?
It had probably come from Melindi, however, and Hammer had not the
faintest idea of who could have sent it from there.
The odd part of it was that the worth of the ring itself must be far
below the cost of the messenger's services, nor was there any
apparent reason for the ending of it.
"By Godfrey," thought Hammer suddenly, "I'll send it over to Miss
Helmuth!"
Clapping his hands, he sent a boy for Potbelly. Since the Lady
Professor was an adept at Arabic to the extent of understanding
certain expressions which would hardly bear adequate translation,
Hammer saw no reason why she could not decipher the engraving for him.
After he had sent the boy he hesitated, remembering the humiliation
he had already passed through; but a moment later Potbelly appeared
at the entrance of the tent.
"Come here," said Hammer curtly, holding out the ring. "You see
this? Take it to Professor Helmuth. Ask her to tell what this
means---- Why, what the devil's the matter with you?"
Potbelly's grin had faded suddenly; rather, it had been frozen into a
ghastly semblance of mirth, and he looked from the ring to Hammer
with absolute terror.
"You savvy him, _Bwana_?" he whimpered. "You savvy _Bwana_ John?"
"What Master John?" repeated the American suspiciously, then grinned.
"John Jones or John Solomon?"
To his intense amazement, Potbelly merely whimpered again, then
turned, speaking over his shoulder as he went through the door.
"You come, _Bwana_. I think mebbeso Missy Professor she see you."
"Well, I'll be darned!" murmured Hammer, and followed like a man in a
dream.