Dragon's Teeth

by Sinclair, Upton;

  At least an hour every day Mr. Dingle spent with Madame Zyszynski, and often Beauty was with him. The spirits possessed the minds of this pair, and the influence of the other world spread through the little community. Beauty began asking the spirits’ advice, and taking it in all sorts of matters. They told her that these were dangerous times, and to be careful of her money. The spirit of Marcel told her this, and so did the spirit of the Reverend Blackless—so he referred to himself. Beauty had never taken his advice while he was living, but assumed he would be ultra-wise in the beyond. As economy was what Lanny wanted her to practice, he felt indebted to the shades. Being a talkative person, Beauty told her friends about her “guides,” and Bienvenu acquired a queerer reputation than it had ever had, even when it was a haunt of painters, munitions buyers, and extra-marital couples.

  Lanny would try his luck with a séance now and then. The character of his spirit life underwent a change; Marie receded into the background and her place was taken by Marcel and Great-Great-Uncle Eli Budd. These two friends of his boyhood told him much about themselves, and held high converse with each other in the limbo where they dwelt; just so had Lanny imagined them after their death, and it confirmed his idea that he was getting an ingenious reconstruction of the contents of his own mind. Now and then would appear some fact which he hadn’t known before; but he argued that he might have heard it and forgotten it. He had had many intimate talks with both his former relatives, and surely couldn’t remember every detail.

  His theory was confirmed by the fact that he received a cordial letter from Mr. Ezra Hackabury, who was trying to keep out of bankruptcy in the town of Reubens, Indiana. Terrible times, he reported; but he hoped people would still have to have kitchen soap. The question was being answered in monthly sales reports, and meanwhile Mr. Hackabury pitched horseshoes behind the barn, as in the old days, and wondered if Lanny had kept up his skill in this art. When Lanny wrote what the spirits had said, the soapman replied that it was with him as it had been with Mark Twain: the report of his death was exaggerated. In the course of a year and a half of intercourse with Tecumseh, Lanny had recorded several cases of the chieftain’s failure to distinguish between the living and the dead, and Lanny drew from this fact the conclusion which satisfied his own mind—at the same time overlooking a number of other facts which didn’t. In this behavior he had the example of many leading men of science.

  X

  So passed a pleasant period in the well-cushioned limousine in which Lanny Budd was rolling through life. He was unhappy about the sufferings of the world, but not so unhappy that he couldn’t eat the excellent meals which the servants of both the villa and the Cottage prepared; not so unhappy that he couldn’t read the manuscripts which Rick sent him, and the first draft of a Silesian Suite which Kurt submitted. He taught his Pink class, and argued with the young Reds who came to bait him—and at the same time to borrow money when they got into trouble. He spent his own funds, and some of Irma’s, playing patron to the social discontent of the Midi; but Irma didn’t mind especially, because she had the money, and had the instinctive feeling that the more the family was dependent upon her, the more agreeable they would make themselves. Who eats my bread, he sings my song!

  A surprising incident. One afternoon Lanny was in his studio, playing that very grand piano which he had bought for Kurt, but which was beginning to show the effects of a decade of sea air. A sunshiny afternoon of spring; Lanny had the doors and windows open, and was filling the surrounding atmosphere with the strains of Rubinstein’s Waltz Caprice. The telephone rang, for they now had phones in all the buildings on the estate; to Irma it had seemed ridiculous to have to send a servant every time she wished to invite Beauty over to the Cottage for lunch, or when she wanted to tell Lanny to come swimming. Now a servant was calling from the villa, reporting that there was an elderly gentleman who said his name was “Monsieur Jean.” Lanny wasn’t usually slow, but this time he had to have the name repeated. Suddenly he remembered the town of Dieppe.

  The Knight Commander of the Bath and Grand Officer of the Legion of Honor had held off for the better part of a year, until Lanny had given up the idea of hearing from him. It seemed hard to believe, for Zaharoff was bound to know that he had got something real at that séance—and how could he bear not to get more? At last he had decided to give way, and characteristically he wasn’t taking half-measures; he had come in person, the first time he had ever thus honored the Budd family. He honored very few persons in that manner.

  “Monsieur Jean” was alone. He had seated himself on the edge of a straight chair, as if he wasn’t sure that he would be welcomed; he had kept his walking-stick, and was leaning on it with both hands folded over it. The cold blue eyes met Lanny’s. Was Lanny mistaken in thinking that there was an anxious look on the face of the old spider, the old wolf, the old devil? Anyhow, the younger man greeted his caller with cordiality, and the latter said quickly: “For a long time I have known that I owed you an apology.”

  “Don’t bother about it, Monsieur Jean,” said the younger man. He used that name because some servant might overhear. “I realized that you were upset. Several times in these séances I have been told things which didn’t happen to be true, and which would have been embarrassing if there had been others present.” Nothing could have been more tactful.

  “I should have written to you,” continued the other. “But I put it off, thinking you might come to see me.”

  “I had no way of knowing what your wishes would be.” To himself Lanny added: “You were trying other mediums, to see if you could get what you want!”

  “I decided that the proper thing to do was to make my apologies in person. I will make them to the medium, if she is still with you.”

  “She is.” Lanny would wait, and make the old man ask for what he wanted.

  “Do you suppose it would be possible for me to see her again?”

  “You mean, to try another séance?”

  “I would esteem it a great favor.”

  “I can’t answer for her, Monsieur Jean. As I explained at the time, it causes her distress if anything goes wrong. She was very much upset.”

  “I realize that. I am thoroughly prepared now, and can give you my word that nothing of the sort will happen again. Whatever comes, I will ‘take it,’ as you Americans say.”

  “Perhaps,” suggested Lanny, “you might prefer to sit with her alone?”

  “If she will trust me, that would be better. You may tell her that I will pay her generously.”

  “I would beg you not to mention that. We have a financial arrangement with her, and her time is ours.”

  “Surely it would be proper for me to pay a portion of the cost?”

  “There is no need to raise the question. The amount is small—and you may not get the results you want.”

  “If I should get them, and if I might see her now and then, you will surely let me make some financial arrangement?”

  “We can talk about that by and by. First, I will see if I can persuade her to give you another sitting.”

  “You have not told her about me?”

  “I haven’t told anybody. You remember I wrote you that that was my intention.”

  “You have been very kind, Lanny, and I shall never forget it.”

  XI

  It wasn’t an easy matter to persuade Madame Zyszynski. She was still angry with “that rude old gentleman.” What he had done to her was unforgivable. But Lanny told her that the rude old gentleman had been extremely unhappy, and something had come from Tecumseh which had broken him down; it had taken him nearly a year to get over it. But now he was penitent, and had given his word, and Lanny felt sure he would keep it. Madame was used to trusting Lanny—she was a lonely old woman, and had adopted him as her son in her imagination. Now she said she would give Monsieur Jean another chance to behave, but first Lanny must explain to him the physical shock which he had caused her, that she had been ill and depressed for days, and so on. Tecumseh w
ould doubtless be extremely angry, and would scold the sitter without the least regard to his dignity.

  Lanny dutifully went back and delivered these messages; and the armament king of Europe solemnly agreed to humble his pride before the chieftain of the Iroquois. Lanny said: “I don’t know what he really is, but he acts like a personage, and you have to treat him that way. You have given him offense, and you will have to pretend that you are petitioning for pardon.” Lanny said it with a smile, but the Knight Commander and Grand Officer was serious; he replied that if it would get him a message from the source desired he would submit to torture from real Indians.

  So Lanny took him down to his studio, and showed him some of Marcel’s paintings on the walls—though he probably didn’t have much mind for art just then. The medium came in, and said: “Bon jour, monsieur.” Zaharoff answered: “Bon jour, madame,” and they seated themselves in the two chairs which Lanny had moved into place for them. He waited until he saw the woman going into her trance successfully; then he went out, closing the studio door behind him.

  Beauty and Irma had been in to Cannes for shopping. They came back; and of course it would no longer be possible to keep the secret from them. No need to, anyhow, for the matter would doubtless be settled this time; the duquesa would “come through,” or Zaharoff would give up. Lanny took them into his mother’s room and told them who had attended Madame’s séance in Dieppe. Both the ladies were excited, for Zaharoff was the same kind of royalty as Irma, and sovereigns do not often meet their social equals. “Oh, do you think he’ll stay for dinner?” inquired Beauty.

  Anyhow, the ladies would dress; but not too much, for Monsieur Jean wouldn’t be dressed. Lanny explained the reason for the name. Then he walked up and down on the loggia in front of the villa, watching the sun set behind the dark mountains across the Golfe Juan. Many times he had watched it, as far back as his memory went. He had seen war come, and vessels burning and sinking in that blue expanse of water. He had watched the tangled fates of human beings woven on these grounds; love and hate, jealousy and greed, suffering and fear; he had seen people dancing, laughing and chatting, and more than once crying. Marcel had sat here with his burned-off face, meeting his friends in the protecting darkness. Here, too, Kurt had played his music, Rick had outlined his plays, and Robbie had negotiated big munitions deals. Now Lanny walked, waiting to hear if the spirit of a noble Spanish lady was going to speak to her Greek husband through the personality of an American redskin, dead a couple of centuries and using the vocal cords of a Polish peasant woman who had been a servant in the home of a Warsaw merchant. One thing you could say about life, it provided you with variety!

  XII

  The old man came up from the studio alone, walking with his head thrust forward, as he always did, as if smelling his way. Lanny went to meet him, and he said, with unwonted intensity: “My boy, this is really a disturbing thing!”

  “You got some results?”

  “I got what certainly seemed results. Tell me, are you convinced of this woman’s honesty?”

  “We are all convinced of that.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “For some eighteen months.”

  “You think she is really in a trance when she pretends to be?”

  “She would have to be a skilled actress if that were not true; we have watched her closely, and we don’t think she is intelligent enough to fool us.”

  “You are sure she doesn’t know who I am?”

  “I can’t imagine how she could have found out. No one but my father knew about the matter, and you know that my father is not a loose talker. When you wrote me the appointment, I took the precaution to tear up your letter and throw it into the sea.”

  “Lanny, it was just as if my wife was sitting in the next room, sending me messages. You can understand how important this is to me.”

  “It is important to all of us, for we all get communications like that.”

  “She reminded me of things from my childhood, and from hers; things we both knew but which nobody else knows—at least, not that I can think of.”

  They went inside, for it grows chilly on the Riviera the moment the sun is down. The old man wanted to know all that Lanny thought about these phenomena, the most mysterious which confront the modern thinker. When Lanny told him of the books of Geley and Osty, Zaharoff took out his notebook and jotted down the names; also the two great volumes of Pierre Janet—he promised to study them all. His education had been neglected, but now he would try to find out about the subconscious mind and its powers, so different from those of a munitions king! He had missed a great deal, and was only beginning to be aware of it when life was ebbing.

  The ladies came in: two most elegant ladies, about whom he had heard; concerning Irma nothing but good. He was extraordinarily courteous; he hoped for a favor from them, and asked it as a humble petitioner: would they graciously permit Madame Zyszynski to visit him in Monte Carlo if he would send his car for her and send her back? Beauty said: “Why, certainly. That is, of course, if Madame is willing, and I am sure she will be.”

  “We got along all right this time,” said Zaharoff. And Lanny, not untrained in observation, perceived that the old spider, likewise not untrained, was watching for some hint of the fact that Beauty knew of the earlier fiasco. Since Beauty didn’t know what had happened on that occasion, it was easy for her to appear innocent. Not that it would have been difficult, anyhow!

  Lanny went down to the studio for the purpose of consulting Madame and found her pleased with the old gentleman’s new humility. She said she would be willing to visit his hotel, and Lanny went back and made a date. Zaharoff excused himself from dinner, saying that he ate very little and that his mind was full of the things he had heard.

  He went out to his car and was driven away. Beauty said to Irma: “That poor old man! He has so much money, yet he can’t get the one thing in the world he wants!” After saying it, the mother-in-law wondered if it mightn’t sound a wee bit tactless!

  9

  Land Where My Fathers Died

  I

  Irma had promised her mother to visit Long Island that summer and exhibit the new heiress of the Barnes and Vandringham clans. Johannes Robin had said that they would make it another yachting-trip, but now he wrote sorrowfully that it was impossible for him to leave Berlin; financial conditions were becoming desperate, and he would have to be on hand every day and perhaps every hour. With a princely gesture he offered the Budd family the yacht with all expenses paid, but perhaps he knew that they would not accept such a favor.

  Irma said: “We might rent it from him.” They talked about the idea for a while, but they knew the young Robins wouldn’t come, they would feel it their duty to stick by their mother and father. Freddi would prefer to carry on the school, for workers don’t have vacations—when they stop work, their pay stops, and this was happening to great numbers of them. Hansi and Bess were helping by playing at low-priced concerts in large halls for the people. A violinist doesn’t promote his reputation by that kind of thing, but he helps his conscience.

  There were plenty of persons who would have been pleased to be offered a free yachting-trip, but Irma admitted that it might be a bore to be with a small group for so long a time; better to be footloose, and free to change friends as well as places. The efficient Bureau International de Voyage, which now consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Pendleton and nobody else, was happy to supply them with information concerning steamers from Marseille to New York. There were sumptuous Mediterranean cruises on which one could book for the return trip; there were steamers making so-called de luxe tours around the world, coming by way of the Suez Canal and Gibraltar to New York. De luxe was what Irma Barnes desired, and it was pleasant to learn that the choicest suites of these floating hotels were vacant on account of hard times. Irma chose the best for herself and Lanny, and a near-by one for Miss Severne, the nursemaid, and the baby; also a second-class passage for her maid, and for the demoted
Feathers, whose duty it now was to run all the errands and accept all humiliations.

  Early in May the party embarked, and Lanny found himself returned suddenly into that café society from which he had fled a year and a half ago. Ten to twelve million dollars had been expended to provide a sea-going replica of the Great White Way, and by expertly contrived advertising exactly the right sort of crowd had been lured on board. This floating hotel included a swimming-pool deep enough for high diving, a game room, a gymnasium with instructors, a squash court, a playground for children, an arcade with beauty parlors and luxury shops, several bars and barber-shops used mainly by ladies, a jazz band and a small orchestra, a motion-picture theater, and a grill room where you could order anything you wanted if you became hungry in between the elaborate regular meals. Here were people one had met at first nights on Broadway, in the swanky night clubs and the Park Avenue penthouses. A sprinkling of sight-seers and curiosity-seekers from the “sticks,” which meant any place west of Seventh Avenue; people who had “made their pile” in hogs or copper and put it into bonds, and wished to get away from the troubles of their world. They had expected the depression to be over by the time they got back, but they had miscalculated.

  Before the vessel docked at Marseille word had got about that Irma Barnes and her husband were coming on board; so there was a crowd lined up by the rail to spot them and watch them. Once upon a time it had been rude to stare, but that time was gone with the daisies. Several old friends rushed up to greet Irma, and to be introduced to the lucky young prince consort; so right away the pair were plunged into the midst of events: supper parties, bridge parties, dancing, sports of one sort or another. So much gossip to hear and to impart, so many new people to meet and play with! Everybody’s cabin was loaded with souvenirs; everybody had stories of places visited. But on the whole it had been rather a bore, you know; they would be glad to get back home, where you could play golf and ride and motor, and get rid of the people who bored you.