The Golden Age of Science Fiction Novels Vol 04

by Anthology

  "Signor di Conti," began the President slowly, "for over two years I have been seeking for a man to undertake a work of the gravest importance — a work which I have begun but which, owing to the official bonds which circumscribe my actions, I may not finish. For this work I required a visionary and a man with the unshakable convictions of a visionary. I believe, Signor, that in you I have found the man I sought."

  The speechless Italian inclined his head and the President continued:

  "If you carry this work to a successful termination, you may one day be acclaimed as the saviour of the civilised world —"

  "And if I fail, your Excellency?" the Italian interrupted softly.

  "You must not fail."

  The Italian bowed his head in his hands as the President turned to his desk. A muffled bell sounded in the anteroom and immediately an officer of the International Police stood before the President.

  "Please ask Colonel Villon to bring me the last report in File Fourteen."

  The officer saluted and withdrew and five minutes later a short, jolly-looking, typically French officer presented himself, with a small bundle of papers under his plump arm. No one would ordinarily have selected the jovial Colonel for the efficient head of a very efficient Intelligence Department, but such he was and the cleverest secret service man in all the nations of the Federation. The President signed him to a chair, and taking the papers the officer proffered, handed them without a word to the bewildered Italian. The latter received them in a daze and commenced to peruse them. For nearly an hour he read eagerly, while the grey President watched him silently and the stout Colonel played with his sword knot. At length the Commissioner raised his head, his eyes shining, his whole face in a glow.

  "Your Excellency —" he gasped.

  "You will undertake the work?" asked the President.

  "Your Excellency," said the Italian, rising to his feet in a kind of exaltation, "it is not a task you offer me — it is a crown of glory."

  But the President had turned to his desk again and when he spoke it was in the most matter-of-fact tones.

  "You will call upon Colonel Villon for anything you may need that he can furnish you and you will, of course, have access to all the papers and any future reports dealing with the matter in hand. In short, the conduct of the affair will be wholly in your hands. Any assistance outside the scope of the Intelligence Department which you may need, your authority as a High Commissioner of the Federation will, of course, obtain for you. That is all, gentlemen."

  They bowed and withdrew, the Colonel to a well-earned and dreamless sleep, the Italian to a night-long vision of the great mission entrusted to him. In the anteroom, one of the orderlies slumbered heavily on a couch, while his companion whiled away the dark hours of his watch with endless games of solitaire. Little by little London grew dark and silent. But in the low-ceilinged room of the President, the master mind of the world stayed wakeful through the long night, thinking and planning, planning and thinking, for the greatest good of all mankind.

  Chapter III

  Merriam Meets All The Powers Of Darkness

  EVELYN THORNTON, reclining luxuriously in a comfortable hammock and surrounded by many pillows, sniffed the strong, salt sea breeze with great contentment and explored with slender fingers the contents of the large box of chocolates at her side in the hope of locating by sense of touch one of the variety which she liked the best without the necessity of interrupting the peaceful flow of her thoughts by turning her head to look for it. Theoretically, Evelyn was renewing her acquaintance with "Rabbi Ben Ezra," being under the necessity of writing a paper on the "Optimism of Robert Browning" for the next meeting of the College Women's Club; but, as a matter of fact, the volume lay face downward in her lap and she gazed at the distant horizon line, lost in a day-dream so profound that she was oblivious to the noise of a motor car coming to a halt under the porte-cochere around the corner of the house, and was only startled into consciousness by a step on the veranda.

  "Why, hello, Jimmy Merriam!" she exclaimed, holding out both hands in an excess of pleasure at seeing him again. "Forgive me for not rising to the occasion, but I'm too utterly comfortable to stir. Do find yourself a chair somewhere and tell me all the news, and to begin with, what you've been doing all these ages since I saw you last."

  "Well," said Merriam, flushing a little with pleasure at the warmth of his reception; "in Biblical phraseology, I've been going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it. To be more exact, I had to run out to Madison, Wisconsin, to attend the annual convention of the American branch of the International Chemical Society and read a paper and from there I went to Ann Arbor for a visit with my old friend and teacher Professor Armstrong, who has recently been appointed president of the University of Michigan. And right there I got the biggest surprise of my life." He paused with a half-ashamed air of importance and the girl nodded eagerly for him to go on. "Well, not to prolong the agony," he continued, "after we'd talked a while, Armstrong said in that sharp way of his, 'What are you doing now, James?' 'Not very much of anything,' I confessed; 'I've got some commercial work that pays pretty well and the rest of the time I'm devoting to research.' 'H'm,' says Armstrong, 'that kind of a life won't get you anywhere. You ought to be more in touch with what's going on in the world of chemistry if you're ever going to tap the possibilities I think you have in you. The Dean of our College of Chemistry has just resigned to take a position in the East. Do you want the job?'"

  "Why, Jimmy, how perfectly splendid!" cried the girl, her eyes bright with happiness at his good fortune. "Please consider yourself congratulated forty-seven times at the very least. I'm just awfully, awfully glad for you." And her fingers closed over his hand in a friendly squeeze.

  "'Tisn't so bad," said Merriam modestly. "Eight thousand a year and most of the summer to do research in if I want to. I can afford a 'plane and take you out riding on moonlight nights."

  "Not if you live out in Michigan," retorted Evelyn. "But if you do buy a 'plane, don't get a 'Detroit.' The Carters had one last year and it made their lives miserable, besides nearly falling into Newark Bay with Mr. Carter when he was flying down to Long Branch. But, honestly, Jimmy, I do hate to have you go off into the wilds this way. We'll all miss you terribly. I know Mabs will be inconsolable. She won't have any one to fight with after you're gone."

  "Perhaps it won't be as bad as you imagine," said Jim with a smile. "I tell you, Eve, I've got a little plan I'm going to disclose to you after I've been at my new job long enough to find out what it's like and if you approve of it, it may reduce the distance between us considerably."

  "Oh," said Evelyn, puzzled and a little uneasy, though she could hardly have told why. "Have you told Leslie about your good luck?" she added, wishing to feel herself on surer ground.

  "Told whom?" asked Merriam, surprised.

  "Leslie Gardiner, of course," she replied, colouring faintly. "Oh, I forgot that you were such a stranger nowadays. Why, Leslie and I have become old friends. He's over here three or four times a week, and we go riding or walking — we've had some splendid long tramps, Jim; just the kind you always used to enjoy so much — and squabble about the Eastern situation. Leslie insists that I'm a most unpractical idealist and I tell him that he wants to bring back the age of militarism and then we begin all over again. I thought probably he'd written you about it."

  "No," said Jim lifelessly. "He didn't mention it. We've both been pretty busy and we didn't write much."

  "But I suppose that you'll be seeing him soon, now that you're back again, won't you?"

  "Probably this evening. I telegraphed him that I was coming and to be out at the house for supper."

  "Do you know, Jimmy, I was almost prepared to dislike your friend before I met him — I suppose because you praised him to me so continuously. But he really has some splendid ideas — for a man — even if they don't always coincide with mine. And he can talk about so many things intelligently that most men can't — like lit
erature and music, I mean — and he's had such interesting experiences in out-of-the-way corners of the earth, only it's almost impossible to get him to tell about them. And then I think he's rather good-looking, don't you?"

  "Yes. Les is a very good sort," answered Jim indifferently.

  Evelyn glanced at him in some surprise. Her woman's intuition told her that something was seriously wrong, but feeling that it would be useless to try to find the clue, she sought to shift the conversation into easier channels.

  "I've been wanting to see you," she began rather hurriedly; "so as to find out just what did happen the night of the dance, when we were caught in that dreadful storm. All I can remember is starting to swim over to the mainland with Leslie and then the storm breaking, and struggling for dear life for a few moments to keep my head above water — and the next thing I knew, I was in bed with a solemn-looking nurse over by the window pouring out something nasty into a glass for me to take. You were already on your way West and Leslie had called three times to find out how I was, and neither he nor Mabs would tell me anything about it. They pretended it wouldn't be good for me, but that couldn't have been the only reason."

  "No," replied Merriam slowly. "I don't think it was. You see, Mabs was wrong about our having to cross the channel before we could reach land. The channel was on the other side of the reef we were stuck on and, as a matter of fact, we only had to swim a few feet before we hit bottom. Mabs and I were safe across before the storm broke, but you and Les were right in the middle of the deepest part. The squall swept you against a nasty ledge of rock, but Les managed to hit it first. If he hadn't, I doubt very much if you'd be lying in that hammock eating chocolates now. Les was tougher and got out of it with only a sprained arm."

  "Oh," said the girl softly, her smooth cheek the colour of a pink rose. "I suppose that's why he wouldn't talk about it. He didn't want me to feel that I was under obligation to him for — for saving my life. He said he hurt his arm falling off his horse."

  "Probably," replied Jim with as near an approach to a sneer as he could summon up on short notice. "Les couldn't fall off a horse if he tried. But then he always did have curious notions of reticence. But as I was saying, you hit the rock — the two of you — and that put an end to Leslie's immediate usefulness. You were past taking any interest in the proceedings already. Then Mabs dashed in with me after her — I guess she was grateful for all the muscle she'd worked up during the summer — and between us we managed to haul you out, and then Mabs played watch-dog while I hunted up a car to get you home in. .You were still oblivious the last time I saw you, but Les had come around all right and was smoking in front of the sitting-room fire with his arm bandaged up and his feet on the fender. That's all the story I know. I guess you can tell the sequel better yourself."

  "Poor Mabs," said Evelyn with a little laugh, not noticing his final words. "I expect she was afraid that if she told of her part in the rescue, I might think she was trying to pose as a heroine."

  "I suppose she was," assented Merriam rather savagely. "Evidently modesty is contagious. However, you'll observe it's not one of my failings. But then it's never been my good luck to have the role of hero."

  "Why, Jimmy!" she exclaimed, regarding him with wide, reproachful eyes; "whatever has gotten into you? I never heard you talk that way before."

  He flushed dully under her steady, hurt gaze.

  "I'm awfully sorry, Eve," he said more gently. "I haven't been very well lately and I guess my trip must have upset me more than I thought. I oughtn't to have come here in the first place, feeling as grumpy as I did. I think perhaps I'd better run along now, before I say anything else I shouldn't. I'll be all right when I've had a little rest and some decent food."

  "Why, Jimmy, that's too bad," she cried with ready sympathy. "I ought to have understood instead of scolding you. You must get all mended up again soon and then come over and we'll have one of our good, old-fashioned talks. You will come as soon as you can, won't you?"

  "Yes, I'll come," he answered, avoiding her friendly, pitying eyes. He took the hand she held out to him a little awkwardly. "Good-bye," he said briefly and hurried down the steps. His eyes were burning and his throat felt dry and hot.

  "So it's Leslie, is it?" he said to himself bitterly as his swift roadster shot into the highway. "Captain Leslie Gardiner of the International Police — damn him! What a fool — what an insensate fool — I might have known how it would be!" Then suddenly, unmindful of danger, he bowed his head on his hands as they rested upon the steering wheel. "Oh, my God!" he cried softly; "the very best friend I have in the whole world!"

  And so for forty miles of sunlit road Merriam fought with all the Powers of Darkness for the possession of his soul. But when, with the lengthening of the afternoon shadows, he turned the car into the driveway that led to his own house and saw the tall figure of the Captain smoking meditatively on the veranda, his face was calm and the voice with which he hailed his friend was steady and even rang with a note of cheerfulness. They met after the manner of old friends who have been for some time separated, hiding the depth of their feeling under an air of boisterous indifference. Merriam, as if fearful of what his friend might say, plunged at once into a detailed account of his western trip, which, with the questions of the Captain and numerous explanations, lasted until the dignified, white-headed negro servant announced that supper was ready.

  "I think," remarked the Captain towards the close of the meal; "that when men get along to our time of life, it's a good thing to plan to settle down — as you're going to do — to some steady work find a permanent abiding place. I've been getting awfully tired lately of the thought of running all over the country as I'll have to do the minute my furlough expires, and as I have done ever since I got into the Intelligence Department. It's all right as long as you're young and have your reputation still to make to spend three months in Prussia and the next three in western Canada and then six more on the China frontier and wind up with a year or so in Peru, doing survey work that the Peruvian government is too lazy to attend to itself and the South American Confederation can't see any use for. But I tell you, Jim, I've got to the point now where I want to see some prospects of a home of my own and a pretty little wife to run it for me and a boy to take up my work when I have to retire. It didn't bother me so much when I was off somewhere in the wilds, living in my uniform — or rather, what was left of it — seven days and seven nights in the week and sleeping under God's big blue tent most of the time, but since I've been back and seen how contented and happy the men I used to know are in their own homes with their families growing up around them, why, I tell you, Jim," cried the Captain, growing more vehement as he proceeded, "I've said to myself more than once, 'Les Gardiner, you damned fool, why don't you try for your share of that happiness?' And by the Lord, Jim, I'm going to!"

  "Yes," returned the other rather drily, signing to the old negro to bring the cigars. "It does sound somewhat attractive. Have you made any definite plans towards the accomplishment of your desire?"

  "I've done this much," replied the Captain; "petitioned for a headquarters job in the United States Atlantic Coast District. Kepplemann's Intelligence Officer is to be retired on January first and there really isn't any reason why I shouldn't have the place, if I want it badly enough. Besides, I did some good work for the Department while I was in China and I can get a recommendation from Villon himself if I need it. That means I'll be settled permanently in New York for the rest of my life, barring accidents. Kepplemann likes me pretty well, and when he once gets a staff officer he likes, he holds onto him like grim death. He's a good district commander to work with if he is a German."

  "Smoke?" asked Merriam, pushing the box towards his friend. When the Captain had made his selection, he took a cigar himself and lighting a match, held it to the end of the weed with steady fingers.

  "Les," he said casually, between puffs, "how long have you been in love with Eve Thornton?"

  The Captain laid down hi
s cigar and pushing back his chair, leaned forward, gripping the arms and staring at the other from under puckered eyebrows. "Good God!" he exploded. "Who in hell told you about that?"

  "My own ears, for one," replied Merriam quietly. "My own eyes for another. When a man talks as convincingly as you just did about settling down, it usually means he has some girl in mind he'd like to settle down with. As to the girl being Eve Thornton — well, when a person devours a photograph as eagerly as you've been taking in that picture of her on the mantelpiece, it doesn't take any great detective powers to deduce that it must hold more than a passing interest for him."

  "Well," said the Captain, relaxing, "there's no use denying it when it's true. Jim, I never felt about any girl in all my life as I do about Evelyn, and first and last, I've known a considerable number, good, bad, and indifferent. Why, Jim, I — I love her, Jim." He paused, frowning at the blue smoke rings that rose lazily towards the ceiling. "And I won't ever forget," he added earnestly, "that it's through you that I first met her."

  "You haven't spoken to her yet?" asked the other, avoiding the frank gaze of his companion and studying the design of the chandelier with considerable intentness.

  "No, I haven't — yet," replied the Captain, with some hesitation. "D'you think, Jim, my chances —"

  "I think your chances are pretty good, Les," said Merriam, rising and knocking the ashes from his cigar into the fireplace. "You see, she was a good deal interested in you even before she met you, and then when you saved her life that night —"

  The Captain made a deprecating gesture. "She doesn't know about that," he said.

  "Doesn't she? Well, she ought to be clever enough to guess that she didn't get ashore all by herself. Besides, Mabs may have told her. Even if Eve did know, she might have a little delicacy about saying anything—"