2
THE HEAVY CHEST
Virginia and Sing were compelled to narrate the
adventure of the afternoon a dozen times. The Chinaman
was at a loss to understand what had deterred the
pirates at the very threshold of victory. Von Horn
thought that they had seen the reinforcements embarking
from the shore, but Sing explained that that was
impossible since the Ithaca had been directly between
them and the point at which the returning crew had
entered the boats.
Virginia was positive that her fusillade had frightened
them into a hasty retreat, but again Sing discouraged
any such idea when he pointed to the fact that another
instant would have carried the prahu close to the Ithaca's
side and out of the machine gun's radius of action.
The old Chinaman was positive that the pirates had some
ulterior motive for simulating defeat, and his long
years of experience upon pirate infested waters gave
weight to his opinion. The weak spot in his argument
was his inability to suggest a reasonable motive. And
so it was that for a long time they were left to futile
conjecture as to the action that had saved them from a
bloody encounter with these bloodthirsty sea wolves.
For a week the men were busy constructing the new camp,
but never again was Virginia left without a sufficient
guard for her protection. Von Horn was always needed
at the work, for to him had fallen the entire direction
of matters of importance that were at all of a
practical nature. Professor Maxon wished to watch the
building of the houses and the stockade, that he might
offer such suggestions as he thought necessary, and
again the girl noticed her father's comparative
indifference to her welfare.
She had been shocked at his apathy at the time of the
pirate attack, and chagrined that it should have been
necessary for von Horn to have insisted upon a proper
guard being left with her thereafter.
The nearer the approach of the time when he might enter
again upon those experiments which had now been
neglected for the better part of a year the more self
absorbed and moody became the professor. At times he
was scarcely civil to those about him, and never now
did he have a pleasant word or a caress for the
daughter who had been his whole life but a few short
months before.
It often seemed to Virginia when she caught her
father's eyes upon her that there was a gleam of
dislike in them, as though he would have been glad to
have been rid of her that she might not in any way
embarrass or interfere with his work.
The camp was at last completed, and on a Saturday
afternoon all the heavier articles from the ship had
been transported to it. On the following Monday the
balance of the goods was to be sent on shore and the party
were to transfer their residence to their new quarters.
Late Sunday afternoon a small native boat was seen
rounding the point at the harbor's southern extremity,
and after a few minutes it drew alongside the Ithaca.
There were but three men in it--two Dyaks and a Malay.
The latter was a tall, well built man of middle age,
of a sullen and degraded countenance. His garmenture
was that of the ordinary Malay boatman, but there was
that in his mien and his attitude toward his companions
which belied his lowly habiliments.
In answer to von Horn's hail the man asked if he might
come aboard and trade; but once on the deck it developed
that he had not brought nothing wherewith to trade.
He seemed not the slightest disconcerted by this discovery,
stating that he would bring such articles as they wished
when he had learned what their requirements were.
The ubiquitous Sing was on hand during the interview,
but from his expressionless face none might guess what
was passing through the tortuous channels of his
Oriental mind. The Malay had been aboard nearly half
an hour talking with von Horn when the mate, Bududreen,
came on deck, and it was Sing alone who noted the
quickly concealed flash of recognition which passed
between the two Malays.
The Chinaman also saw the gleam that shot into the
visitor's eye as Virginia emerged from the cabin,
but by no word or voluntary outward sign did the man
indicate that he had even noticed her. Shortly afterward
he left, promising to return with provisions the following day.
But it was to be months before they again saw him.
That evening as Sing was serving Virginia's supper he asked
her if she had recognized their visitor of the afternoon.
"Why no, Sing," she replied, "I never saw him before."
"Sh!" admonished the celestial. "No talkee so strong,
wallee have ear all same labbit."
"What do you mean, Sing?" asked the girl in a low voice.
"How perfectly weird and mysterious you are.
Why you make the cold chills run up my spine,"
she ended, laughing. But Sing did not return
her smile as was his custom.
"You no lememba tallee Lajah stand up wavee lite
clothee in plilate boat, ah?" he urged.
"Oh, Sing," she cried, "I do indeed! But unless you had
reminded me I should never have thought to connect him
with our visitor of today--they do look very much alike,
don't they?"
"Lookeelike! Ugh, they all samee one man. Sing know.
You lookee out, Linee," which was the closest that Sing
had ever been able to come to pronouncing Virginia.
"Why should I look out? He doesn't want me,"
said the girl, laughingly.
"Don't you bee too damee sure 'bout lat, Linee,"
was Sing's inelegant but convincing reply,
as he turned toward his galley.
The following morning the party, with the exception of
three Malays who were left to guard the Ithaca, set out
for the new camp. The journey was up the bed of the
small stream which emptied into the harbor, so that
although fifteen men had passed back and forth through
the jungle from the beach to the camp every day for two
weeks, there was no sign that human foot had ever
crossed the narrow strip of sand that lay between the
dense foliage and the harbor.
The gravel bottom of the rivulet made fairly good
walking, and as Virginia was borne in a litter between
two powerful lascars it was not even necessary that she
wet her feet in the ascent of the stream to the camp.
The distance was short, the center of the camp being
but a mile from the harbor, and less than half a mile
from the opposite shore of the island which was but two
miles at its greatest breadth, and two and a quarter at
its greatest length.
At the camp Virginia found that a neat clearing had
been made upon a little tableland, a palisade built
about it, and divided into three parts; the most
northerly of which contained a small house for herself
and her father, another for von Horn, and a common
cooking and eating house over which Sing was to preside.
The enclosure at the far end of the palisade was for
the Malay and lascar crew and there also were quarters
for Bududreen and the Malay second mate. The center
enclosure contained Professor Maxon's workshop. This
compartment of the enclosure Virginia was not invited
to inspect, but as members of the crew carried in the
two great chests which the professor had left upon the
Ithaca until the last moment, Virginia caught a glimpse
of the two buildings that had been erected within this
central space--a small, square house which was quite
evidently her father's laboratory, and a long, low
thatched shed divided into several compartments, each
containing a rude bunk. She wondered for whom they
could be intended. Quarters for all the party had
already been arranged for elsewhere, nor, thought she,
would her father wish to house any in such close
proximity to his workshop, where he would desire
absolute quiet and freedom from interruption. The
discovery perplexed her not a little, but so changed
were her relations with her father that she would not
question him upon this or any other subject.
As the two chests were being carried into the central
campong, Sing, who was standing near Virginia, called
her attention to the fact that Bududreen was one of those
who staggered beneath the weight of the heavier burden.
"Bludleen, him mate. Why workee alsame lascar boy? Eh?"
But Virginia could give no reason.
"I am afraid you don't like Bududreen, Sing," she said.
"Has he ever harmed you in any way?"
"Him? No, him no hurt Sing. Sing poor," with which
more or less enigmatical rejoinder the Chinaman
returned to his work. But he muttered much to himself
the balance of the day, for Sing knew that a chest that
strained four men in the carrying could contain but one
thing, and he knew that Bududreen was as wise in such
matters as he.
For a couple of months the life of the little hidden
camp went on peacefully and without exciting incident.
The Malay and lascar crew divided their time between
watch duty on board the Ithaca, policing the camp, and
cultivating a little patch of clearing just south of
their own campong.
There was a small bay on the island's east coast, only
a quarter of a mile from camp, in which oysters were
found, and one of the Ithaca's boats was brought around
to this side of the island for fishing. Bududreen
often accompanied these expeditions, and on several
occasions the lynx-eyed Sing had seen him returning to
camp long after the others had retired for the night.
Professor Maxon scarcely ever left the central
enclosure. For days and nights at a time Virginia
never saw him, his meals being passed in to him by Sing
through a small trap door that had been cut in the
partition wall of the "court of mystery" as von Horn
had christened the section of the camp devoted to the
professor's experimentations.
Von Horn himself was often with his employer as he
enjoyed the latter's complete confidence, and owing to
his early medical training was well fitted to act as a
competent assistant; but he was often barred from the
workshop, and at such times was much with Virginia.
The two took long walks through the untouched jungle,
exploring their little island, and never failing to
find some new and wonderful proof of Nature's creative
power among its flora and fauna.
"What a marvellous thing is creation," exclaimed
Virginia as she and von Horn paused one day to admire a
tropical bird of unusually brilliant plumage.
"How insignificant is man's greatest achievement
beside the least of Nature's works."
"And yet," replied von Horn, "man shall find Nature's
secret some day. What a glorious accomplishment for
him who first succeeds. Can you imagine a more
glorious consummation of a man's life work--your
father's, for example?"
The girl looked at von Horn closely.
"Dr. von Horn," she said, "pride has restrained me from
asking what was evidently intended that I should not
know. For years my father has been interested in an
endeavor to solve the mystery of life--that he would
ever attempt to utilize the secret should he have been
so fortunate as to discover it had never occurred to
me. I mean that he should try to usurp the functions
of the Creator I could never have believed, but my
knowledge of him, coupled with what you have said,
and the extreme lengths to which he has gone to maintain
absolute secrecy for his present experiments can only
lead to one inference; and that, that his present work,
if successful, would have results that would not be
countenanced by civilized society or government.
Am I right?"
Von Horn had attempted to sound the girl that he might,
if possible, discover her attitude toward the work in
which her father and he were engaged. He had succeeded
beyond his hopes, for he had not intended that she
should guess so much of the truth as she had. Should
her interest in the work have proved favorable it had
been his intention to acquaint her fully with the
marvellous success which already had attended their
experiments, and to explain their hopes and plans for
the future, for he had seen how her father's attitude
had hurt her and hoped to profit himself by reposing in
her the trust and confidence that her father denied her.
And so it was that her direct question left him
floundering in a sea of embarrassment, for to tell her
the truth now would gain him no favor in her eyes,
while it certainly would lay him open to the suspicion
and distrust of her father should he learn of it.
"I cannot answer your question, Miss Maxon," he said,
finally, "for your father's strictest injunction has
been that I divulge to no one the slightest happening
within the court of mystery. Remember that I am in
your father's employ, and that no matter what my
personal convictions may be regarding the work he has
been doing I may only act with loyalty to his lightest
command while I remain upon his payroll. That you are
here," he added, "is my excuse for continuing my
connection with certain things of which my conscience
does not approve."
The girl glanced at him quickly. She did not fully
understand the motive for his final avowal, and a
sudden intuition kept her from questioning him. She
had learned to look upon von Horn as a very pleasant
companion and a good friend--she was not quite certain
that she would care for any change in their relations,
but his remark had sowed the seed of a new thought in
her mind as he had intended that it should.
When von Horn returned to the court of mystery, he
narrated to Professor Maxon the gist of his
conversation with Virginia, wishing to forestall
anything which the girl might say to her father that
would give him an impression that von Horn had been
talking more than he should. Professor Maxon listened
to the narration in silence. When von Horn had finished,
he cautioned him against divulging to Virginia anything
that took place within the inner campong.
"She is only a child," he said, "and would not
understand the importance of the work we are doing.
All that she would be able to see is the immediate
moral effect of these experiments upon the subjects
themselves--she would not look into the future and
appreciate the immense advantage to mankind that must
accrue from a successful termination of our research.
The future of the world will be assured when once we
have demonstrated the possibility of the chemical
production of a perfect race."
"Number One, for example," suggested von Horn.
Professor Maxon glanced at him sharply.
"Levity, Doctor, is entirely out of place in the
contemplation of the magnificent work I have already
accomplished," said the professor tartly. "I admit
that Number One leaves much to be desired--much to be
desired; but Number Two shows a marked advance along
certain lines, and I am sure that tomorrow will divulge
in experiment Number Three such strides as will forever
silence any propensity toward scoffing which you may
now entertain."
"Forgive me, Professor," von Horn hastened to urge.
"I did not intend to deride the wonderful discoveries
which you have made, but it is only natural that we
should both realize that Number One is not beautiful.
To one another we may say what we would not think of
suggesting to outsiders."
Professor Maxon was mollified by this apology,
and turned to resume his watch beside a large,
coffin-shaped vat. For a while von Horn was silent.
There was that upon his mind which he had wished to discuss
with his employer since months ago, but the moment had
never arrived which seemed at all propitious, nor did
it appear likely ever to arrive. So the doctor decided
to broach the subject now, as being psychologically as
favorable a time as any.
"Your daughter is far from happy, Professor," he said,
"nor do I feel that, surrounded as we are by semi-savage
men, she is entirely safe."
Professor Maxon looked up from his vigil by the vat,
eyeing von Horn closely.
"Well?" he asked.
"It seemed to me that had I a closer relationship I
might better assist in adding to her happiness and
safety--in short, Professor, I should like your
permission to ask Virginia to marry me."
There had been no indication in von Horn's attitude
toward the girl that he loved her. That she was
beautiful and intelligent could not be denied, and so
it was small wonder that she might appeal strongly to
any man, but von Horn was quite evidently not of the
marrying type. For years he had roved the world in
search of adventure and excitement. Just why he had
left America and his high place in the navy he never
had divulged; nor why it was that for seven years he
had not set his foot upon ground which lay beneath the
authority of Uncle Sam.
Sing Lee who stood just without the trap door through
which he was about to pass Professor Maxon's evening
meal to him could not be blamed for overhearing the
conversation, though it may have been culpable in him
in making no effort to divulge his presence, and
possibly equally unpraiseworthy, as well as lacking in
romance, to attribute the doctor's avowal to his
knowledge of the heavy chest.
As Professor Maxon eyed the man before replying to his
abrupt request, von Horn noted a strange and sudden
light in the older man's eyes--a something which he
never before had seen there and which caused an
uncomfortable sensation to creep over him--a manner of
bristling that was akin either to fear or horror, von
Horn could not tell which.
Then the professor arose from his seat and came very
close to the younger man, until his face was only a few
inches from von Horn's.
"Doctor," he whispered in a strange, tense voice,
"you are mad. You do not know what you ask. Virginia is
not for such as you. Tell me that she does not know of
your feelings toward her. Tell me that she does not
reciprocate your love. Tell me the truth, man."
Professor Maxon seized von Horn roughly by both shoulders,
his glittering eyes glaring terribly into the other's.
"I have never spoken to her of love, Professor,"
replied von Horn quietly, "nor do I know what her
sentiments toward me may be. Nor do I understand, sir,
what objections you may have to me--I am of a very old
and noble family." His tone was haughty but respectful.
Professor Maxon released his hold upon his assistant,
breathing a sigh of relief.
"I am glad," he said, "that it has gone no further, for it
must not be. I have other, nobler aspirations for my daughter.
She must wed a perfect man--none such now exists.
It remains for me to bring forth the ideal mate for her--
nor is the time far distant. A few more weeks and we
shall see such a being as I have long dreamed."
Again the queer light flickered for a moment
in the once kindly and jovial eyes of the scientist.
Von Horn was horrified. He was a man of
little sentiment. He could in cold blood
have married this girl for the wealth he knew
that she would inherit; but the thought that
she was to be united with such a THING--
"Lord! It is horrible," and his mind pictured
the fearful atrocity which was known as Number One.
Without a word he turned and left the campong. A moment
later Sing's knock aroused Professor Maxon from the reverie
into which he had fallen, and he stepped to the trap door
to receive his evening meal.
