Chapter 4
The killing of the friendless old Russian, Michael Sabrov, by his greattrained ape, was a matter for newspaper comment for a few days. LordGreystoke read of it, and while taking special precautions not topermit his name to become connected with the affair, kept himself wellposted as to the police search for the anthropoid.
As was true of the general public, his chief interest in the mattercentered about the mysterious disappearance of the slayer. Or at leastthis was true until he learned, several days subsequent to the tragedy,that his son Jack had not reported at the public school en route forwhich they had seen him safely ensconced in a railway carriage. Eventhen the father did not connect the disappearance of his son with themystery surrounding the whereabouts of the ape. Nor was it until amonth later that careful investigation revealed the fact that the boyhad left the train before it pulled out of the station at London, andthe cab driver had been found who had driven him to the address of theold Russian, that Tarzan of the Apes realized that Akut had in some waybeen connected with the disappearance of the boy.
Beyond the moment that the cab driver had deposited his fare beside thecurb in front of the house in which the Russian had been quarteredthere was no clue. No one had seen either the boy or the ape from thatinstant--at least no one who still lived. The proprietor of the houseidentified the picture of the lad as that of one who had been afrequent visitor in the room of the old man. Aside from this he knewnothing. And there, at the door of a grimy, old building in the slumsof London, the searchers came to a blank wall--baffled.
The day following the death of Alexis Paulvitch a youth accompanyinghis invalid grandmother, boarded a steamer at Dover. The old lady washeavily veiled, and so weakened by age and sickness that she had to bewheeled aboard the vessel in an invalid chair.
The boy would permit none but himself to wheel her, and with his ownhands assisted her from the chair to the interior of theirstateroom--and that was the last that was seen of the old lady by theship's company until the pair disembarked. The boy even insisted upondoing the work of their cabin steward, since, as he explained, hisgrandmother was suffering from a nervous disposition that made thepresence of strangers extremely distasteful to her.
Outside the cabin--and none there was aboard who knew what he did inthe cabin--the lad was just as any other healthy, normal English boymight have been. He mingled with his fellow passengers, became a primefavorite with the officers, and struck up numerous friendships amongthe common sailors. He was generous and unaffected, yet carried an airof dignity and strength of character that inspired his many new friendswith admiration as well as affection for him.
Among the passengers there was an American named Condon, a notedblackleg and crook who was "wanted" in a half dozen of the largercities of the United States. He had paid little attention to the boyuntil on one occasion he had seen him accidentally display a roll ofbank notes. From then on Condon cultivated the youthful Briton. Helearned, easily, that the boy was traveling alone with his invalidgrandmother, and that their destination was a small port on the westcoast of Africa, a little below the equator; that their name wasBillings, and that they had no friends in the little settlement forwhich they were bound. Upon the point of their purpose in visiting theplace Condon found the boy reticent, and so he did not push thematter--he had learned all that he cared to know as it was.
Several times Condon attempted to draw the lad into a card game; buthis victim was not interested, and the black looks of several of theother men passengers decided the American to find other means oftransferring the boy's bank roll to his own pocket.
At last came the day that the steamer dropped anchor in the lee of awooded promontory where a score or more of sheet-iron shacks making anunsightly blot upon the fair face of nature proclaimed the fact thatcivilization had set its heel. Straggling upon the outskirts were thethatched huts of natives, picturesque in their primeval savagery,harmonizing with the background of tropical jungle and accentuating thesqualid hideousness of the white man's pioneer architecture.
The boy, leaning over the rail, was looking far beyond the man-madetown deep into the God-made jungle. A little shiver of anticipationtingled his spine, and then, quite without volition, he found himselfgazing into the loving eyes of his mother and the strong face of thefather which mirrored, beneath its masculine strength, a love no lessthan the mother's eyes proclaimed. He felt himself weakening in hisresolve. Nearby one of the ship's officers was shouting orders to aflotilla of native boats that was approaching to lighter theconsignment of the steamer's cargo destined for this tiny post.
"When does the next steamer for England touch here?" the boy asked.
"The Emanuel ought to be along most any time now," replied the officer."I figgered we'd find her here," and he went on with his bellowingremarks to the dusty horde drawing close to the steamer's side.
The task of lowering the boy's grandmother over the side to a waitingcanoe was rather difficult. The lad insisted on being always at herside, and when at last she was safely ensconced in the bottom of thecraft that was to bear them shoreward her grandson dropped catlikeafter her. So interested was he in seeing her comfortably disposedthat he failed to notice the little package that had worked from hispocket as he assisted in lowering the sling that contained the oldwoman over the steamer's side, nor did he notice it even as it slippedout entirely and dropped into the sea.
Scarcely had the boat containing the boy and the old woman started forthe shore than Condon hailed a canoe upon the other side of the ship,and after bargaining with its owner finally lowered his baggage andhimself aboard. Once ashore he kept out of sight of the two-storyatrocity that bore the legend "Hotel" to lure unsuspecting wayfarers toits multitudinous discomforts. It was quite dark before he ventured toenter and arrange for accommodations.
In a back room upon the second floor the lad was explaining, notwithout considerable difficulty, to his grandmother that he had decidedto return to England upon the next steamer. He was endeavoring to makeit plain to the old lady that she might remain in Africa if she wishedbut that for his part his conscience demanded that he return to hisfather and mother, who doubtless were even now suffering untold sorrowbecause of his absence; from which it may be assumed that his parentshad not been acquainted with the plans that he and the old lady hadmade for their adventure into African wilds.
Having come to a decision the lad felt a sense of relief from the worrythat had haunted him for many sleepless nights. When he closed hiseyes in sleep it was to dream of a happy reunion with those at home.And as he dreamed, Fate, cruel and inexorable, crept stealthily uponhim through the dark corridor of the squalid building in which heslept--Fate in the form of the American crook, Condon.
Cautiously the man approached the door of the lad's room. There hecrouched listening until assured by the regular breathing of thosewithin that both slept. Quietly he inserted a slim, skeleton key inthe lock of the door. With deft fingers, long accustomed to the silentmanipulation of the bars and bolts that guarded other men's property,Condon turned the key and the knob simultaneously. Gentle pressureupon the door swung it slowly inward upon its hinges. The man enteredthe room, closing the door behind him. The moon was temporarilyovercast by heavy clouds. The interior of the apartment was shroudedin gloom. Condon groped his way toward the bed. In the far corner ofthe room something moved--moved with a silent stealthiness whichtranscended even the trained silence of the burglar. Condon heardnothing. His attention was riveted upon the bed in which he thought tofind a young boy and his helpless, invalid grandmother.
The American sought only the bank roll. If he could possess himself ofthis without detection, well and good; but were he to meet resistancehe was prepared for that too. The lad's clothes lay across a chairbeside the bed. The American's fingers felt swiftly through them--thepockets contained no roll of crisp, new notes. Doubtless they werebeneath the pillows of the bed. He stepped closer toward the sleeper;his hand was already half w
ay beneath the pillow when the thick cloudthat had obscured the moon rolled aside and the room was flooded withlight. At the same instant the boy opened his eyes and looked straightinto those of Condon. The man was suddenly conscious that the boy wasalone in the bed. Then he clutched for his victim's throat. As thelad rose to meet him Condon heard a low growl at his back, then he felthis wrists seized by the boy, and realized that beneath those tapering,white fingers played muscles of steel.
He felt other hands at his throat, rough hairy hands that reached overhis shoulders from behind. He cast a terrified glance backward, andthe hairs of his head stiffened at the sight his eyes revealed, forgrasping him from the rear was a huge, man-like ape. The baredfighting fangs of the anthropoid were close to his throat. The ladpinioned his wrists. Neither uttered a sound. Where was thegrandmother? Condon's eyes swept the room in a single all-inclusiveglance. His eyes bulged in horror at the realization of the truthwhich that glance revealed. In the power of what creatures of hideousmystery had he placed himself! Frantically he fought to beat off thelad that he might turn upon the fearsome thing at his back. Freeingone hand he struck a savage blow at the lad's face. His act seemed tounloose a thousand devils in the hairy creature clinging to his throat.Condon heard a low and savage snarl. It was the last thing that theAmerican ever heard in this life. Then he was dragged backward uponthe floor, a heavy body fell upon him, powerful teeth fastenedthemselves in his jugular, his head whirled in the sudden blacknesswhich rims eternity--a moment later the ape rose from his prostrateform; but Condon did not know--he was quite dead.
The lad, horrified, sprang from the bed to lean over the body of theman. He knew that Akut had killed in his defense, as he had killedMichael Sabrov; but here, in savage Africa, far from home and friendswhat would they do to him and his faithful ape? The lad knew that thepenalty of murder was death. He even knew that an accomplice mightsuffer the death penalty with the principal. Who was there who wouldplead for them? All would be against them. It was little more than ahalf-civilized community, and the chances were that they would dragAkut and him forth in the morning and hang them both to the nearesttree--he had read of such things being done in America, and Africa wasworse even and wilder than the great West of his mother's native land.Yes, they would both be hanged in the morning!
Was there no escape? He thought in silence for a few moments, andthen, with an exclamation of relief, he struck his palms together andturned toward his clothing upon the chair. Money would do anything!Money would save him and Akut! He felt for the bank roll in the pocketin which he had been accustomed to carry it. It was not there! Slowlyat first and at last frantically he searched through the remainingpockets of his clothing. Then he dropped upon his hands and knees andexamined the floor. Lighting the lamp he moved the bed to one sideand, inch by inch, he felt over the entire floor. Beside the body ofCondon he hesitated, but at last he nerved himself to touch it.Rolling it over he sought beneath it for the money. Nor was it there.He guessed that Condon had entered their room to rob; but he did notbelieve that the man had had time to possess himself of the money;however, as it was nowhere else, it must be upon the body of the deadman. Again and again he went over the room, only to return each timeto the corpse; but no where could he find the money.
He was half-frantic with despair. What were they to do? In themorning they would be discovered and killed. For all his inheritedsize and strength he was, after all, only a little boy--a frightened,homesick little boy--reasoning faultily from the meager experience ofchildhood. He could think of but a single glaring fact--they hadkilled a fellow man, and they were among savage strangers, thirstingfor the blood of the first victim whom fate cast into their clutches.This much he had gleaned from penny-dreadfuls.
And they must have money!
Again he approached the corpse. This time resolutely. The apesquatted in a corner watching his young companion. The youth commencedto remove the American's clothing piece by piece, and, piece by piece,he examined each garment minutely. Even to the shoes he searched withpainstaking care, and when the last article had been removed andscrutinized he dropped back upon the bed with dilated eyes that sawnothing in the present--only a grim tableau of the future in which twoforms swung silently from the limb of a great tree.
How long he sat thus he did not know; but finally he was aroused by anoise coming from the floor below. Springing quickly to his feet heblew out the lamp, and crossing the floor silently locked the door.Then he turned toward the ape, his mind made up.
Last evening he had been determined to start for home at the firstopportunity, to beg the forgiveness of his parents for this madadventure. Now he knew that he might never return to them. The bloodof a fellow man was upon his hands--in his morbid reflections he hadlong since ceased to attribute the death of Condon to the ape. Thehysteria of panic had fastened the guilt upon himself. With money hemight have bought justice; but penniless!--ah, what hope could there befor strangers without money here?
But what had become of the money? He tried to recall when last he hadseen it. He could not, nor, could he, would he have been able toaccount for its disappearance, for he had been entirely unconscious ofthe falling of the little package from his pocket into the sea as heclambered over the ship's side into the waiting canoe that bore him toshore.
Now he turned toward Akut. "Come!" he said, in the language of thegreat apes.
Forgetful of the fact that he wore only a thin pajama suit he led theway to the open window. Thrusting his head out he listenedattentively. A single tree grew a few feet from the window. Nimblythe lad sprang to its bole, clinging cat-like for an instant before heclambered quietly to the ground below. Close behind him came the greatape. Two hundred yards away a spur of the jungle ran close to thestraggling town. Toward this the lad led the way. None saw them, anda moment later the jungle swallowed them, and John Clayton, future LordGreystoke, passed from the eyes and the knowledge of men.
It was late the following morning that a native houseman knocked uponthe door of the room that had been assigned to Mrs. Billings and hergrandson. Receiving no response he inserted his pass key in the lock,only to discover that another key was already there, but from theinside. He reported the fact to Herr Skopf, the proprietor, who atonce made his way to the second floor where he, too, pounded vigorouslyupon the door. Receiving no reply he bent to the key hole in anattempt to look through into the room beyond. In so doing, beingportly, he lost his balance, which necessitated putting a palm to thefloor to maintain his equilibrium. As he did so he felt something softand thick and wet beneath his fingers. He raised his open palm beforehis eyes in the dim light of the corridor and peered at it. Then hegave a little shudder, for even in the semi-darkness he saw a dark redstain upon his hand. Leaping to his feet he hurled his shoulderagainst the door. Herr Skopf is a heavy man--or at least he wasthen--I have not seen him for several years. The frail door collapsedbeneath his weight, and Herr Skopf stumbled precipitately into the roombeyond.
Before him lay the greatest mystery of his life. Upon the floor at hisfeet was the dead body of a strange man. The neck was broken and thejugular severed as by the fangs of a wild beast. The body was entirelynaked, the clothing being strewn about the corpse. The old lady andher grandson were gone. The window was open. They must havedisappeared through the window for the door had been locked from theinside.
But how could the boy have carried his invalid grandmother from asecond story window to the ground? It was preposterous. Again HerrSkopf searched the small room. He noticed that the bed was pulled wellaway from the wall--why? He looked beneath it again for the third orfourth time. The two were gone, and yet his judgment told him that theold lady could not have gone without porters to carry her down as theyhad carried her up the previous day.
Further search deepened the mystery. All the clothing of the two wasstill in the room--if they had gone then they must have gone naked orin their night clothes. Herr Skopf shook his
head; then he scratchedit. He was baffled. He had never heard of Sherlock Holmes or he wouldhave lost no time in invoking the aid of that celebrated sleuth, forhere was a real mystery: An old woman--an invalid who had to becarried from the ship to her room in the hotel--and a handsome lad, hergrandson, had entered a room on the second floor of his hostelry theday before. They had had their evening meal served in their room--thatwas the last that had been seen of them. At nine the following morningthe corpse of a strange man had been the sole occupant of that room.No boat had left the harbor in the meantime--there was not a railroadwithin hundreds of miles--there was no other white settlement that thetwo could reach under several days of arduous marching accompanied by awell-equipped safari. They had simply vanished into thin air, for thenative he had sent to inspect the ground beneath the open window hadjust returned to report that there was no sign of a footstep there, andwhat sort of creatures were they who could have dropped that distanceto the soft turf without leaving spoor? Herr Skopf shuddered. Yes, itwas a great mystery--there was something uncanny about the wholething--he hated to think about it, and he dreaded the coming of night.
It was a great mystery to Herr Skopf--and, doubtless, still is.
The Son of Tarzan Page 4
