The Heavy Chest

: The Monster Men

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

entere
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.



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