Part 23

“If you could have seen him when he was telling me about that baboon business you would have taken a dislike to him too,” said Norton, making a gesture of displeasure with his hand. “Although I will admit I had an aversion toward him from the first--I didn’t quite know why. He had a trick of laying his hot heavy hand on my shoulder that used to irritate me dreadfully when we were in the Inspection Department in Washington.”

“What was he doing there?” asked Meldrum.

“He had been inspecting aeroplane spruce in British Columbia,” replied Norton, “and he had a desk in our office. I was there for about three months after being invalided home, before I was sent to New York.”

After a few moments’ silence, Norton added:

“He is more than queer. He is a throw-back.”

“A what?” said Meldrum, puzzled.

“A throw-back--an atavistic specimen,” said Norton firmly. “A mixture of old and new, and a bad one at that.”

“That’s a pretty nasty accusation, Harry,” said Meldrum.

“You may think so,” said Norton obstinately, “but I tell you I’m not simply guessing. Apart from his peculiar build, with his monstrous length of arm and leg, short body, and small head, and his perpetual and unnatural theories and experiments with apes and things, there is still further evidence that I saw with my own eyes when we went to New York together one weekend and visited the zoo. It was not my fancy, I can assure you, Meldrum, that made me imagine the very brutes were interested in my companion. I tell you, there was scarcely one of those creatures that did not show excitement of some kind, some of rage, others of fear, but generally of anger.

“One big chimpanzee went simply wild for a time--so much so that an attendant came along to see what the trouble was. It capered furiously, thundered at the bars of its cage, and then executed a hideous kind of cluttering dance, beating its hands and feet on the floor with extraordinary rapidity. Yet all Needham had done was to make a peculiar kind of clucking noise in his throat and smile his sinister smile. I’ll bet the brutes recognized him as one of their kind. Some of them looked as if they expected him to open the cage doors....”

“What is he doing here in Burlington now?” asked Meldrum.

“Something in connection with lumber, I believe,” said Norton, as they entered North Avenue and turned in the direction of the park. “He has rented a small house out here on this street and lives there alone. He seems to prefer being alone always.”

They walked on for some little distance, and then Norton said, “This is the place,” and indicated a small two-story residence standing alone in a neat garden some twenty yards from the thoroughfare.

It was quite dark save for one lighted window upstairs. The pair went up the path to the front door and Norton, after a little fumbling, found and pressed an electric button, without, however, producing any effect as far as could be observed.

“The bell doesn’t seem to ring,” said Norton, pressing again and again. “Perhaps it’s out of order.”

He knocked at the door and listened. Everything was quiet inside. Heavy drops of water splashed down from the roof, intensifying the silence. A trolley-car hummed on the street, throwing a brilliant light on the trees and shrubs of the garden, and then leaving them darker than ever. Again Norton knocked loudly, but without result.

“That’s not his bedroom, I know,” he said, nodding up at the lighted room, “for he told me he hated the noise of the cars passing under his window. He must have fallen asleep over a book or something. I might throw a stone at the window.”

“No I wouldn’t do that,” said Meldrum, walking back a few paces and staring up. “Perhaps we had better just go away. I can meet him again.”

“But I would like you to see him, now that you’ve come,” said Norton. “Wait a minute.”

He tried the door and found it unlocked. Entering the hall, he called:

“Needham, Ho, Needham!”

Again they listened, and again nothing happened. As he groped in the darkness, Norton’s hand encountered the electric switch and he turned on the light. A narrow stairway was revealed, leading overhead.

“Just wait a minute,” he said to Meldrum, “and I’ll run upstairs. I’m sure he’s there.”

He disappeared swiftly, and, after an interval of a few moments, came quietly down again.

“Come up,” he said, beckoning to his friend. “He is sound asleep in his chair. Come and look.”

_II._

Together they crept up. The room door was ajar, and they noiselessly entered what was evidently a sitting-room. Needham sat in a large armchair, with his back to the window, sleeping quietly. A reading lamp on the table was the sole source of illumination, and, since it was fitted with a heavy red shade, the upper portion of the chamber was in comparative darkness.

The full light of the lamp, however, fell upon the form of the sleeping man, who had sunk low in his chair and was indeed in an extraordinary attitude. His book had fallen to the floor, and his long arms hung over the sides of the chair, the hands resting palm upwards on the rug. His huge thighs sloped upward from the depths of the chair to the point made by his knees, and his long shins disappeared below the table.

Norton glanced at Meldrum, who was looking at the sleeper curiously.

“Ho, Needham!” said Norton, loudly. “Wake up!”

The slumberer was roused at last, but in a startling manner. With a lightning movement, he sat bolt upright and clutched the arms of the chair, his features working convulsively, while a stream of horrible gibberish, delivered in a high piercing tone, burst from his lips. Norton went as pale as death, while Meldrum remained rooted to the spot where he stood.

Then, recovering himself, Norton ran forward and, seizing Needham by the arm, shook him violently, exclaiming:

“It’s all right, Needham! It’s only Norton come to see you.”

The man in the chair regained his composure as quickly as he had lost it, and, as if unaware that anything unusual had happened, got to his feet and said:

“Hullo, Norton, old chap! Take a seat. I must have fallen asleep and had some beastly dream or something. Sit down.”

He crossed to the wall near the fireplace and switched on some lights that illuminated the whole room. Then, seeing Meldrum for the first time, he advanced toward him and shook hands.

“It’s not quite the right thing to steal into a man’s house in this way, I know,” said Meldrum. “I am sorry if we startled you. We rang and raised a rumpus down below, but without effect. I was taking a walk with Norton after the storm, and it occurred to him to come up and see you and apologize for his absence this evening. So we came together.”

“It’s quite all right,” said Needham, in his peculiar nasal tones. “I am glad you came. I sleep pretty heavily and had a beastly dream just when you came in. I was back in Africa.”

He was moving about as he spoke, placing a box of cigars, a bottle of whisky, some glasses and a siphon of soda-water on the table, and Meldrum observed him carefully. His peculiar build was not so noticeable when he was on his feet, the design of his loose tweed suit seeming to make him appear better proportioned. At times he looked almost handsome, but at other times, with a different perspective, the extraordinary length of his arms and legs was very apparent, while still another view made him appear almost grotesque, the singular shape of his small head, with its closely-cropped black hair, offending the sense of just proportions. His eyes were brown with muddy whites, and the sinister effect of his high cackling laugh (which was very frequent), accompanied as it was by a downward movement of his large hooked nose and an upward twist of his little black mustache, was not lost upon the observant teacher.

The room itself was dirty and untidy in the extreme. Stale tobacco fumes filled the air, and articles of wearing apparel were scattered around. Some unwashed dishes stood on a small table near the fireplace, and remnants of food lay on the floor. Books, papers and magazines were flung about in disorder and Needham’s huge muddy boots lay where he had thrown them, below the chair on which Norton sat.

“What were you doing back in Africa?” asked Meldrum pleasantly, helping himself to a cigar.

“Back amongst those beastly baboons,” said Needham, with his unpleasant laugh, at the same time proceeding to fill the glasses. “You know, I once ran into a bunch of them when I was out alone on a hunting trip, and I saw a curious sight. There was a big fight on among them--there would be about twenty of them, I should think. I saw the whole business, and it was some fight, I can tell you. Rocks and chunks of wood were flying in all directions, and they were clubbing one another in great shape. As far as I could judge, they were roughly divided into two lots, but it was pretty much of a mix-up.

“But there was one old gray fellow that took my fancy rather. He seemed to be the chief egger-on. Whenever things looked like calming down a bit, he stirred them up again by means of a number of curious calls. I could not quite make out what part he was playing, or what side he favored, for he seemed to keep pretty well outside of the fight, only concerning himself with those that went down. He finished them up in the most methodical manner as they lay. And if two were attacking one he would throw himself in on the side of the two to help finish the odd fellow--and then he seemed to set the remaining two fighting one another. I think he gave false signals at times. At any rate, he was the freshest of the three or four survivors when it was all over. And then they sat down and had a kind of powwow.”

Norton glanced again at Meldrum, who smiled at him slightly, then said to Needham:

“Really? How very extraordinary that you should witness all this. Did they not attempt to molest you?”

“No,” said Needham, with his evil smile. “They didn’t attempt to interfere with us--didn’t seem to mind me at all, which is rather unusual for them, for they are shy of humans as a rule. I stood on a big boulder and watched the whole business. The old chap had his eye on me, but either he understood firearms (I had my rifle and revolver, of course), or else I was lucky when I imitated some of his peculiar noises. He seemed quite scared when I came away with one of his favorite calls, and when they finally cleared out, after covering up the dead with branches and leaves, he gave me a most significant look--seeming to beg that I would not give him away.

“At least that’s how it appeared to me. And, strangely enough, I was instrumental in capturing the very same animal later on, together with some others, during a hunt. I lured them to a certain spot by that very noise.”

He had thrown himself down in his easy chair again, and as he laughed afresh his crooked yellow teeth uncovered, and his little eyes glittered unpleasantly. Meldrum was filled with a strong sense of repulsion.

“What was that particular noise like?” Norton struck in for the first time.

Needham put down his glass and, laying his head back slightly, made a peculiar kind of clucking gurgle in his throat. In an instant, from the corner behind Norton’s chair, came a shrill chatter of terror, and a little red figure hurried across the floor and dived below the table. Norton almost dropped his glass, and Meldrum gave a startled exclamation. Needham alone was calm.

“Ah Fifi, you rascal!” he said. “Did I scare you again? That’s too bad. Come here.”

A small long-tailed monkey, clad in a little red jacket, came slowly from below the table and advanced timidly toward Needham, who spoke coaxingly to it, and finally made a kind of rippling noise with his tongue that seemed to reassure it, for it jumped on the arm of his chair and sat quietly blinking at the visitors. Needham tickled its head with his large forefinger.

“I bought Fifi from an Italian,” he said, noting his guests’ look of astonishment. “She is good company--catches flies, switches the lights on and off, and does other useful things--eh, Fifi?”

The little animal looked up at him intelligently, and with a sudden movement Needham wound his great fingers about its throat. With a plaintive cry, the little creature made futile efforts to tear away the strong hand about its neck, plucking frantically with its small paws.

“Don’t!” said Norton in a sharp voice. “I can’t bear to see animals tormented.”

“I’m not hurting her,” said Needham, removing his hand. “She’s a nervous little thing and must be taught not to be so frightened. I think the Italian must have ill-used her. But she is clever, for all that,” continued Needham, laughing. “She is learning to play the piano.”

Lifting the little monkey, he crossed the room with long strides to the corner, where a small cottage piano stood, and seated himself on the stool. “Now play, Fifi,” he said.

The intelligent creature leant forward and commenced striking sharply here and there among the notes, producing a curious kind of tinkling resemblance to certain bars from “Old Black Joe”. Meldrum was conscious of a strange prickling sensation--he did not quite know why.

After a few moments, Needham rose again and, putting the monkey in a box in the corner of the room, returned again to his chair.

_III._

It was late before the friends took their departure, Needham holding their interest with stories of his adventures in different parts of the world. Indeed, it was only when Meldrum became aware, by the restless movements of his friend, that Norton was not enjoying himself that he recollected the lateness of the hour and suggested it was time they took their leave.

“You fellows mustn’t be too critical of my quarters, you know,” said Needham, laughing, as they descended the stairs together. “I confess I am not a tidy person. I have led the rough bachelor life too long. But you fellows should understand something about that.”

He accompanied them to the sidewalk, and after some desultory remarks about the weather, the visitors set off toward Norton’s home. The moon was shining brightly and after the heavy rain and wind the air smelt fresh and moist. Meldrum inhaled it with evident pleasure.

“Now that I have seen your friend at close quarters,” he said, “I must confess that I do not feel so strongly inclined in his favor. The state of that room was disgraceful even for a bachelor, and there is no excuse for anyone at all shutting out the fresh air. But, although his tastes seem to run unpleasantly to monkeys, I hardly think he deserves the appellation you bestowed on him.”

“Perhaps not,” said Norton, who seemed in better spirits, now that he was in the free fresh air again. “As far as the atmosphere of his house is concerned, he once explained that to me by saying that since he had been in Africa he had to keep the temperature up. I think he said he had rheumatism. But I don’t like him.”

There was silence for several minutes, and then he burst out:

“And of course he pays attention to Elsie.”

“Ah!” said Meldrum significantly. “Perhaps a lover’s jealousy has something to do with the case.”

“We met him one day on Church Street,” said Norton, “and of course I had to introduce him. He made himself very agreeable, and yet it seemed to my fancy that he was not so much taken up with the girl as anxious to do me an ill turn. Other fellows pay attention to her, too, of course, but that’s because they admire her. It was not so in his case, I am convinced. After we left him Elsie said: ‘What a fine-looking man!’ And then she added: ‘No he isn’t--he’s a horror!’”

“Well,” said Meldrum heartily, “apparently you do not need to fear her falling in love with him, however it may be in his case. I really am afraid it’s a case of ‘I do not like thee, Dr. Fell.’” Meldrum laughed. “But I hardly think,” he wound up, “you have any solid grounds for quarreling with him. The world is wide enough to hold both of you.”

Often in the days that followed, Meldrum, moved by a curiosity he could not quite account for, took his evening walk out on North Avenue past Needham’s house. Of Needham himself he saw nothing. Once he heard the weird tinkling of the piano, but generally the form of the little monkey in its red jacket could be seen sitting motionless at the upper front window looking out on the street. It struck Meldrum as strange that the creatures should sit so quietly. In the course of his progress past the house he did not observe it stir or alter its position. Its gaze seemed fixed on that point of the road where Meldrum fancied its master would first come into sight on his way home from town.

“Never knew they were such devoted things,” Meldrum ruminated. “What a queer kind of a pet to keep! And what a queer life to live, anyway, alone in that house. He doesn’t even get anyone to clean it up apparently. Some strange people in this old world!”

With this philosophical reflection, Meldrum passed on in the direction of the park.

Term examinations kept Meldrum busily occupied during the days that followed, and the friends did not have occasion to see one another for nearly two weeks. Then, when they did meet, it was again through the instrumentality of Needham, after the evening of the party at the Miner home. The Miners were neighbors of Norton’s sweetheart and lived out some distance beyond Ethan Allen Park.

Thus it came about that after seeing his young lady to her home Norton found himself, some time after midnight, at a point perhaps a couple of miles from his rooms and with the area of the Park lying almost directly between himself and his objective. He determined to cut across it, a thing he did quite frequently.

The night was cool and cloudy, with fitful bursts of moonlight which tended rather to accentuate the blackness of the intervening spells of darkness. Had Norton not been thoroughly familiar with the topography of the land he might have had some difficulty in keeping his direction. But he kept going forward confidently, noting certain well-known landmarks. He skirted the base of the hill on which the tower is situated, and was just on the point of plunging into a thick grove of trees, leading down toward the main gateway, when he chanced to look behind. And there he saw rather a disquieting sight.

The moon had just struggled through again and its pale light revealed to the apprehensive Norton the gigantic form of Needham perched on the top of a large boulder in a crouching position as if about to spring down. It might have been perhaps fifty yards from the spot where Norton stood. Even as he gazed Needham leapt down (from a height of some ten feet) and disappeared. Norton stood waiting, but there was no further sound. He walked on again, wondering uneasily what Needham might be doing in the park at such an hour--unless perhaps he, too, was taking a short cut. But Norton felt uneasy nevertheless.

Entering the grove he pushed forward briskly. It was very dark now, the moon being hidden once more, and the gloom and whispering of the trees made his flesh creep. Several times he looked behind him, but could see nothing. Then a crackling of branches, this time much nearer, brought him to a dead halt, and, facing about, he called loudly:

“Hello, Needham! Is that you?”

There was no response, and Norton stood with straining ears and eyes, his heart thumping in alarm. And even as he stood the horrible thing happened.

He was almost directly under a huge gnarled oak tree, and as he laid a hand on the trunk for a moment to steady himself he happened to glance up, and the hair bristled on his scalp to find a pair of luminous yellow eyes gazing down upon him.

Ere he could recover, a form seemed to detach itself from the shadows and a pair of great hands reached down and clutched at his throat, while a chuckling voice said:

“Aha! You would give me away, would you!”

_IV._

In his terror, Norton did what was possibly the best thing in the circumstances--fell to the ground. For this action seemed to upset the equilibrium of the figure in the tree (which seemed to be suspended by the lower limbs) and caused it to relax its hold and draw up its arms for an instant. And in that instant Norton had recovered and was off, running as he had never run before, slipping, dashing, plunging, colliding, but never stopping and never looking back.

How he ever found his way out to the street was always a mystery to him, but he became aware, presently, that he was on North Avenue once more, and in the light of the first arc lamp he slowed down and finally stopped to recover. There was no sign of Needham, although Norton had heard him crashing along in pursuit.

Everything was still, and not a soul was in sight. Fear overcoming him again, Norton hurried on and did not stop until he was safe in his room and had locked the door. But he enjoyed little sleep during the remainder of that night.

Next evening Norton hastened to Meldrum’s apartment and poured the whole story into his friend’s sympathetic ear.

“You see,” he said excitedly, “I was right about him, after all. He is a throw-back--he came at me from the trees. His instincts drove him there. Talking, too, about my giving him away! He knows I know what he is....”

“He possibly played a practical joke on you,” said Meldrum cheerily. “He tried to give you a fright and succeeded. You called him, and he came--although not quite in the manner you expected, eh?”

“Well I am not such a nervous person as all that, either,” said Norton. “I admit, however, that in sober daylight it does not look quite so bad. It did not seem like a joke at the time, though. I am convinced he meant me harm.”

“I do not think you are justified in that belief, Harry,” said Meldrum decisively. “The man is trying to be friendly to you and you keep rebuffing him. And as for ‘giving him away’ that’s nonsense, and you know it. What have you to give away? Simply that you don’t like him and have strange ideas about him? That won’t hold water, you know. You had better forget your fancies and come along with me and see this new circus that has just struck the town. I notice by the placards they have some baboons and I am rather curious about the creatures since hearing Needham’s stories. Come along! You need something to take you out of yourself. And if I were you I would not mention that business the next time you see Needham, unless he broaches the subject....”

Tasker’s, “The Greatest Show on Earth,” had pitched its camp some distance from the town over toward Winooski, and after a brisk walk the friends found themselves in the enclosure in which the curious were beginning to gather. There were the usual games of hazard, cocoanut shies, roundabouts, candy stalls, and side shows of all kinds clustered round the main tents where the grand performance was held later in the evening. Presently they discovered the whereabouts of the baboons, which did not, when viewed, present quite the appearance of the monstrous creatures portrayed in vivid colors on the outside of the tents.

Meldrum and Norton stood observing the animals in silence for some moments when Norton, happening to glance in the direction of the tent opening, saw the tall form of Needham in the act of paying his admission fee. Norton’s heart beat faster with the recollection of his experience on the previous evening, but Needham smiled and waved a greeting, as if nothing unusual had happened. Norton turned again to the cage--to discover that there were others interested in the arrival of the newcomer.

There were three baboons in all, two apparently not yet full grown, and an old fellow of hoary aspect, who sat by himself for the most part near the front of the cage, watching the passers-by. He was treated with great respect by the two younger ones and was evidently still strong enough to be reckoned with. The old baboon had risen to its feet and was gazing intently at the approaching figure.

For some moments it stood thus, then, seizing the bars of the cage in its hands, it rattled the framework with tremendous force, at the same time giving vent to a peculiar sound. At its cry, the other two ran forward and the extraordinary spectacle was seen of all three creatures staring fixedly at Needham as he made his way toward them.

There were not many people in the tent--the hour being early--but the few who were there turned toward the spot. Needham laughed and shook hands with Meldrum, at the same time waving one of his hands playfully in the direction of the old baboon. Like lightning, a long hairy arm shot forth toward him, but the distance was too great for the creature. Again it thundered on the bars.

“Hey Kruger, what’s the matter now?” shouted an attendant, approaching. “Quit that! Do you want to bring the house down?”

He struck with a pole at the hands of the animal on the bars, making it shift them from place to place. But it was not to be driven back, and it still continued to stare at Needham.

The attendant drew away, saying in a sulky tone: “Don’t meddle with the animals, please.”

“It’s all right, old chap,” said Needham pleasantly. “He wanted to shake hands with me, but I declined with thanks.”

“Don’t do nothin’ to annoy him, please,” said the man in surly tones, preparing to depart. “God knows what might happen if he got loose. He did once, and we had a hell of a time. He nearly killed a man.”