Delphi Complete Works of Thorne Smith (Illustrated), page 126
“No, your honor,” replied Kelly. “They were thoroughly at home. Seemed to like it here.”
“Good of them,” beamed the magistrate, but the beam was laden with venom. “Go on, Kelly.”
“Then they got the women over,” said Kelly, “and had one high old time.”
“Of course, it didn’t occur to any of you to drive them back?” The magistrate’s voice was soft and low. “Hated to spoil their fun, perhaps?”
“We did, your honor, repeatedly, but every time we did, out they’d bounce just as if they didn’t know the meaning of a lock.” Kelly paused for a moment to moisten his lips, then rushed right into trouble. “Then, your honor,” he said, “they stole the stone dog.”
The magistrate sat up. He was all attention.
“The stone dog, Kelly?” he said. “What stone dog? I have heard of no stone dog.”
“Yes, your honor. There’s a stone dog.”
“What sort of a stone dog, Kelly?”
“Just an ordinary stone dog, your honor.”
“There is no ordinary stone dog, Kelly. The very fact that the dog is of stone makes it extraordinary, gives it a place of its own, makes it peculiar, unique, and arresting. But, tell me, Kelly. Is it a little stone dog or a medium-sized stone dog or, let us say, a huge stone dog?”
“Oh, no, sir,” replied Kelly, somewhat confused. “It’s a very lifelike stone dog, it is. Large and heavy.”
The magistrate pondered a moment. This stone dog intrigued him. He had never seen a lifelike stone dog, a large and heavy one.
“Bring me this stone dog,” he said at last.
It was unfortunate that the court attendant dispatched to fetch Blotto was nervously as well as physically fairly well wrecked. Merely to lift the stone dog was for him no small achievement. Nevertheless, he did lift the dog, and not only that, he carried the dog to the courtroom, but here his strength failed. The dog was about to slip from his numbed arms and would have crashed to the floor had not the quick wit of Hunter Hawk saved his old friend. As the magistrate was peering at the stone dog clutched in the arms of the failing court attendant, he was both startled and dismayed to see it wriggle impatiently and then bound to the floor.
“What!” ejaculated the good man starting from his chair and leaning far over his desk. “There’s something funny about all this.”
He removed his glasses and hastily rubbed them. The attendant took one look at Blotto; then, with a cry of sheer horror, fled from the room. Mr. Hawk swept the floor in Blotto’s vicinity with the petrifying ray, thus turning the bottoms of the dog’s feet to stone. For a short time the dog stood still, as if trying to get his bearings, then, spying his friends, the Olympians, set out to join them. It was a noisy progress. The placing of each paw occasioned a distinct little bang. The magistrate watched the dog with fascinated eyes. At last he turned to Officer Kelly.
“Kelly,” he said, “that’s the loudest-walking dog I ever heard. What’s wrong with the beast? I thought you said that dog was made of stone. That’s not a stone dog at all. That’s a real dog with funny feet — very funny feet, if you’d ask me.”
“It was a stone dog, your honor,” declared Kelly. “All of the boys who saw it said it was a stone dog.”
“Well, it isn’t a stone dog now,” said the magistrate. “It’s some sort of tap-dancing dog. I really do believe that all this has slightly deranged my mind.”
Blotto clattered across the floor and sat down by Neptune, leaned, in fact, a little against the sea god’s leg.
“There are other things,” offered Kelly timidly.
“Thank God for that,” said the magistrate. “What sort of other things?”
“There’s a head,” gasped Kelly.
Once more the magistrate started.
“What sort of a head, man?” he gritted. “A calf’s head, a horse’s head, a fish’s head — what sort of a head? Try to be specific.”
“A human head,” Kelly managed to get out.
“Your honor,” broke in Perseus, unable to restrain himself, “it’s my head.”
A long, low, animal-like howl broke from the lips of his honor. He rested his forehead on the edge of his desk, and his hands fluttered helplessly above it.
“What is this?” he muttered. “Where am I? His head. His head. What does it all mean?”
“Your honor,” came the voice of Hebe, “may we sit down somewhere? We’re getting awful tired.”
“So am I,” snapped the magistrate, looking dimly at the fair goddess. “Mortally tired. Yes, my child. Sit down. I’m going to charge you all with something in a few minutes. I don’t know what, but now it looks like murder.”
Suddenly he turned fiercely on Officer Kelly.
“Make yourself clear,” he flung at the man.
“It’s a stone head,” said Kelly.
“I know. I know,” replied the magistrate. “So was that dog. Is the head like that?”
“Oh, your honor,” said Kelly, turning white. “I hope not. I do indeed. Not this head of all heads.”
“Then bring it in, man, together with all of your other exhibits. Hurry.”
Kelly brought Medusa and placed her on the magisterial desk. The honorable Plenty gave one look at the head, then twisted his own away, twisted it nearly off.
“O-o-o-o-o, what a head,” he moaned. “I never saw a more unpleasant head. Thank God, it isn’t alive!”
Kelly then placed Mercury’s caduceus on the other side of the desk and leaned Neptune’s trident against it.
“That’s all, your honor,” he said.
“And quite enough, to be sure. You’ve done very well, Kelly! Too well, I might say. I’d like you all to know that this has been a terrible morning for me — a terrible trial. Come up here, Griggs. I want to ask you some questions.”
Painfully but proudly Griggs mounted to the witness chair. It was plain to see he fully intended to do his worst for everybody but himself.
Magistrate Plenty looked long and with great distaste upon the red, raw face of Griggs.
“Griggs,” he began heavily. “You got me into all this, and I’m not grateful. I depend upon you to get me out and Mr. Hawk and his followers in. Now, listen to me and answer my questions.”
“Yes, your honor,” from Griggs.
“Yes what?” clipped Magistrate Plenty. “I have asked no question yet.”
“I meant,” said Griggs, “yes, I will.”
“Yes, you will,” repeated the magistrate. “Yes, you will what? Are you deliberately trying to puzzle me, madden me, infuriate me?”
“What I meant to say was, yes, I will get you out of it,” stammered Griggs.
“Thanks,” said the magistrate dangerously. “Answer this one. Does or did the prisoner Hawk wear a false beard?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Is that man there the Hawk in question?”
“He is, your honor.”
“And is his beard false?”
“It is, your honor.”
“If it is not false, Griggs, then it follows the prisoner is not Hawk. Am I right, Griggs?”
“You are, your honor.”
“Did you ever tug at that beard, Griggs?”
“I did, your honor.”
“And did it come off?”
“No, your honor.”
“Would you like to take a tug at it now, Griggs?”
A deep growl from Neptune.
“No, your honor.”
“How do you explain the fact that in spite of all our combined efforts we have been unable to dislodge that beard from the prisoner’s chin?”
“I can’t, your honor.”
“Still you claim the prisoner to be one Hawk?”
“I do, your honor.”
Magistrate Plenty scratched his head while Hunter Hawk played the petrifying ray across the lower part of Griggs, as that unfortunate individual sat perspiring in the chair. At last the magistrate spoke and said:
“I would like to help you, Griggs, but from all the evidence before us I am forced to conclude that the prisoner cannot be Hawk, and that, furthermore, you have arrested the wrong man. You may step down, Griggs.”
The stricken detective tried in vain to step down. He turned an ashen face to the magistrate.
“I can’t step down,” he got out.
“And why can’t you step down, may I ask?”
“I don’t know, your honor.”
“You can’t step down and yet can give no reason. That seems hardly reasonable, Griggs.”
“Something has happened, your honor.”
“What has happened, man? Tell us.”
“I can’t say what has happened, your honor.”
“Do you mean you can’t say or you won’t say?”
“I’d like to say, your honor.”
“Ah, you’d like to say but you won’t say.”
A long pause while Magistrate Plenty thought this out. Suddenly his face cleared, and he leaned far over towards the completely wilted Griggs.
“Do you want to whisper it, Griggs?”
The detective recoiled as if stung.
“Certainly not, your honor.”
Control had long since flown from the courtroom. Tears were running down the faces of many present. The magistrate no longer seemed to care what happened. His one mad desire was to finish up this terrible business so that he could go home and drink himself into a state of complete forgetfulness. Looking about him for some source of inspiration his eyes encountered the baleful stare of Medusa. “Oh, God,” he thought to himself. “Who could have thought up such a frightful face, such a completely devastating face? What demoniacal mind? I’ve been mad for at least two hours. Sanity will never return.” With desperate self-control he faced Griggs and asked in a quiet, reasoned voice:
“Then do you want to speak right out here in court, Griggs, and tell us about it like a man?”
“I can’t tell about it, your honor,” Griggs was almost sobbing.
“Is it a secret, Griggs?”
“No secret, your honor.”
“Griggs, you’re being very stubborn about this matter. Something must be done. You can’t expect to be allowed to occupy that chair forever, you know. Someone else might want to sit in it, Griggs. Won’t you leave it quietly now instead of lumping selfishly in it as you are?”
“I can’t, your honor.”
“Then, Griggs,” cried the magistrate in a voice that broke from sheer exasperation, “I’ll have you dragged out of it. Understand me? Dragged out of that chair. Dragged bodily and brutally.” He pounded on his desk with both clenched hands. “Drag him out, I say! Drag him out! Quick.”
While Griggs was being removed from the chair Meg worked her magic on the head of Medusa and the serpent-twined caduceus. The hissing and crackling of the snake and the wild cries of Medusa caused the magistrate to turn from watching the dragging down of Griggs to see what was happening on his desk. He gave one swift, horror-stricken, incredulous look at the head; then his frenzied shriek rang through the courtroom. Still screaming like a soul in torment, he turned and on tottering legs disappeared through a door directly behind him. Nor was he alone in his flight. In a surprisingly short time the room was empty save for the Olympians, Mr. Hawk, Meg, and Betts.
Without undue haste they gathered up their possessions and departed. Betts led them to the Emperor. They entered the car in an orderly manner and drove off. That was all there was to it.
“Won’t they follow us?” asked Hebe.
“No, dear child,” said Hunter Hawk. “Settle back and think of cups. No one in that entire building could be induced to come within a mile of us.”
“I say,” said Meg, turning to Neptune, “you can take that beard off now. It doesn’t become you.”
The sea god’s grin was expansive as he fondly stroked his beard.
CHAPTER XXII
The Last Sigh
HEBE WAS BEARING her last cup, and the Olympians, scattered round the lounge room of their suite in the hotel were drinking their last drinks. The scene gave one the impression of a fancy-dress ball. All save Betts were in costume. Even Mr. Hawk, looking not unlike Abraham Lincoln gone Roman, was swathed in white drapery. To please the Olympians, and especially the lady Olympians, on this last evening he had allowed a little variety to be used in their costumes. The colors were riotous, but the costumes themselves were essentially the same — yards of material wound or draped according to the fancy of the individual wearer. Altogether the effect was picturesque.
Mercury was wearing his funny hat and Perseus had retrieved his heroic sword.
On the floor in their midst lay Dora, the stolen cow, who during their absence had been forced to remain in a state of acute petrifaction. She too was adorned gayly with ribbons which she failed utterly to appreciate.
The reason for the bizarre regalia of the outfit was that Mr. Hawk, for reasons of his own, wanted no marks of identification left behind when the Olympians returned to their pedestals, as they were just about to do. One by one they had rather sheepishly admitted that they were just a little tired. The world was too much with them, or after them. On all sides they either encountered trouble or created it. Then again, their stomachs were not what they had been. It was not Mr. Hawk’s fault. No blame could be attached to him. He was not responsible for irresponsible persons who made ill-advised laws.
“Volstead,” said Bacchus, “must be a most remarkable fellow. I would have enjoyed a little chat with him in spite of the fact that we don’t see eye to eye.”
The discussion now centered round Dora. What disposition should be made of the cow?
“I say bring the old girl along and make her a gift to the museum,” suggested Mercury. “Petrify her along with the rest of us.”
“You would say that, because you stole the cow,” observed Bacchus.
“I found the cow,” said Mercury. “Betts and Meg stole her. I merely came along.”
“Then why not give her to Betts as a token of appreciation of his splendid mixing?” asked Neptune, idly dipping a hand in the goldfish tank.
Betts looked startled.
“Couldn’t think of accepting her,” he said hastily but modestly. “Mrs. Betts dislikes the idea of cows. Never got along well with them.”
The heavy business of transporting the animal appalled the old man.
“Isn’t there some society that does things about cows?” Meg inquired vaguely. “There seems to be a society for almost everything else either for or against.”
“I don’t think there’s a Society for the Redemption of Lost Cows,” volunteered Mr. Betts. “How about the Zoo?”
“Not a bad idea, that,” said Mr. Hawk. “The Zoo might like to have a nice domestic cow just to make its collection complete. Tell you what we could do, though. We could write a letter to the Police Commissioner saying, ‘If you will look in room 1537 you will find something to your interest.’ We could sign it, ‘A Well-Wisher.’ ”
In the end it was decided to do nothing at all about the cow, a decision that could have been predicted from the very outset of the discussion.
At the appointed hour the Olympians arose, drank a final toast and followed Mr. Hawk from the room. Hebe was bearing in triumph the cup she had originally wanted to bear. Mr. Hawk had not the heart to deprive her of this last pleasure.
“There’s a cow knocking about my rooms,” Mr. Hawk told the elevator boy, who did not seem greatly interested.
“Is that cow still there?” he asked carelessly.
“Of course it is,” snapped Mr. Hawk. “What do you think we did with the animal, eat it raw?”
“I wondered what you were going to do with her in the first place,” remarked the boy.
“Well, do something about it now,” said Mr. Hawk.
“What, for instance?” asked the boy.
“Damned if I know,” said Mr. Hawk as he stepped into the Emperor and drove off with Betts at the wheel.
It was late now, and no one witnessed the return of the gods to the Metropolitan. Mercury with his magic fingers had somehow managed the door. Before Hawk followed them in he pressed the restoring ring into the hand of the faithful Betts. Its usefulness was over. It could do no harm. The ray had nothing to operate on save the lower half of Griggs, a stone dog in the woods, a couple of policemen, a few waiters, and two fleeing figures by a woodland lake. Betts would never use it.
“Take care of things,” Mr. Hawk told him as he squeezed the old man’s arm. “That ring may serve to remind you of a few pleasant occasions.”
Old Betts just looked at his master, then smiled.
“I may bring you back some day?” he said.
“By that time the ring will have lost its power,” Mr. Hawk replied. “By the way, are you sure Miss Daffy picked up Blotto at the station?”
“Yes, sir,” said Betts in a low voice. “I had her on the phone. She said, sir, to tell you—” the old man hesitated, then resumed— “I think the exact words were ‘pip pip.’ ”
Hawk left the Emperor and crossed the short distance to the door. Inside the Olympians were waiting for him in the long corridor.
“I thought you were never coming,” whispered Meg, looking like a small child in her white drapery.
Neptune was the first to mount to his stand. He settled himself properly and beamed down at Hawk.
“Thanks for the fish,” he said.
“Good-bye, old friend,” replied Mr. Hawk, shaking the sea god’s hand. “Your beard was a great help.”
Meg did what was necessary, and the great god became even greater as he returned to his original state.
Thus passed the Olympians, one by one, mounting to their pedestals, to resume once more their rightful function of edifying and enlightening the general public. The world could stand for them in bronze or stone, but in the flesh it was an altogether different matter.
“We’ve had a nice clean time together,” said Venus as she smilingly stepped up. “Oh, what about my arms?”
“Let the museum staff puzzle about them,” replied Meg. “They’re damn good arms, old girl, but they’ll probably break ’em off.”
Hebe returned, still clinging to her cup. It was this incongruous article that shocked and amazed the museum authorities, officials, and staff more than anything else connected with the whole strange affair.
