It was this that appealed most to Agent “X.” Doctor Traub and the institute could wait. Horror at the invisible invasion of a dread disease, sympathy for the victims, made him crave direct action.
He swung away from the square. The first and only gorilla to be caught had been shot at that spot. It seemed to “X” that the battery of searchlights would keep the others away. A gnawing suspicion in his mind made him seek the section where the city’s rich dwelt.
He drove swiftly along a wide avenue, passing only a few other cars. These were police cruisers, or those of doctors marked with green crosses. The night seemed to hold menace and mystery. The spectre of death still hovered above Branford. A dank miasma of evil seemed to rise from the lawns and grass plots.
Over his face and hands Agent “X” rubbed a special solution which would keep away mosquitoes and night-flying insects.
HE came at last to a street of stately, high-walled mansions. In front of them flowed the river. Beyond, on the opposite shore, burned the campfires of National Guardsmen, stationed there to see that even wealthy citizens of the town did not try to escape. A millionaire’s launch had been surprised and riddled a few nights before, and its owner killed. A trooper caught accepting a five-thousand-dollar bribe to let a wealthy merchant through the quarantine lines had been summarily court-martialed.
Agent “X” parked his car and prowled ahead on foot. The silence and loneliness of the city were more apparent than ever now. Lights showed in the houses ahead, but the citizens had barricaded themselves as for a siege. Windows were closed; many blinds were drawn. Sounds of human habitation were few.
Somewhere a dog barked. “X” could hear the faint voices of the guardsmen across the river. The night air was still. He moved across quiet lawns, still as a wraith, alert as an Indian. In his clothing he carried some of the strange offensive and defensive weapons that had become a part of his equipment. If he saw a gorilla he was prepared.
Twenty minutes passed; a half-hour; three-quarters — and nothing happened. The menacing silence of the night was unbroken by any sound that he could not place. His nerves were on edge. The blood in his veins tingled.
Ahead of him now was the Garwick mansion, a huge yellow brick house of French colonial style, surrounded by wide lawns. Victor Garwick was one of Branford’s leading citizens.
As “X” approached the house, following the secret hunch that had brought him to Branford, there came the sudden sound of a high-pitched human cry.
It was somewhere at the other side of the big house, and it electrified the Agent into swift action. He heard the crashing, rending noise of breaking glass — then that terrible cry again. When he bounded around the building on the velvet-smooth lawn among flower beds and ornamental shrubs, he saw a leaping shadow in the blackness ahead. It was no more than a flashing blur of darkness, blotting out for an instant the glint of the river water.
He gave pursuit, grasping the small gas pistol that was one of his weapons. But the shadow had disappeared. He did not waste time searching. If what he feared had happened, it was more important to get into the house.
LIGHTS were blazing in rear windows now. He heard excited voices, some one moaning hysterically. He ran around to the front door, knocked loudly. When a frightened servant opened it, he heard some one talking excitedly on the telephone.
The servant seemed dazed. He stared at Agent “X” with dark, unseeing eyes. His face was dough-colored.
“I was passing,” said “X.” “I heard a scream. What’s happened? I am Doctor Smith.”
The servant stood humbly, did not answer; but a terrified looking woman came running toward him.
“You are a doctor, you say? Come at once! Something horrible has happened! One of those apes—”
She did not finish. Her voice broke in a frightened sob. Agent “X” strode after her. A big man stood in the room they entered, staring helplessly at a young man who was leaning against a chair, holding his arm. The young man’s face was ashen. He looked at Agent “X” with fear-glazed eyes. The woman seized the big man’s arm.
“A doctor, Victor! Perhaps he can do something. Perhaps it isn’t — too late!”
Victor Garwick spoke quickly to “X,” neglecting even to introduce himself.
“My son was attacked just now! A gorilla broke into the house. If you are a doctor, for God’s sake do something before—”
“My medicine case,” said Agent “X.” “I left it behind me in the car.”
A groan came from Garwick’s lips. The woman spoke tremblingly.
“Doctor Allen will come anyway, Victor—”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said “X.”
The younger man, Victor Garwick’s son apparently, seemed too paralyzed for speech. His father babbled on:
“The ape raised the window. Dave found him here. We scared the beast off — but not before he had bitten Dave!”
“Let me see your arm,” said Agent “X.” His tone was professional. He had studied medicine along with many other sciences. He could do as much as any physician in Branford to check the inroad of encephalitis.
David Garwick rolled up his sleeve and displayed the livid flesh wound on his arm. With a sudden sharp exclamation, “X” drew the boy nearer a bridge lamp. His eyes began to burn with a strangely intent light. He gazed for seconds at the marks on the young man’s arm, then took a small measuring device from his pocket. He bent down, went over the tooth marks with minute scrutiny. Then he straightened abruptly.
He did not betray his sudden, violent excitement to the boy or his parents, but he was tingling. Cleverly simulated as these marks were, they did not fool Agent “X.” Fang marks he had seen many times before. And these were not the abrasions of an animal’s incisors. They were wounds made by some double-pronged injection instrument. They were concrete evidence of the black shadow of crime that he had already guessed at.
Chapter II
“YOU actually saw the gorilla?” Agent “X” asked the boy sharply.
“Yes — and dad saw it, too.” David Garwick glanced toward his father, who nodded swiftly.
Mrs. Garwick touched “X’s” arm, raised worried, appealing eyes.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Why don’t you do something, doctor?”
Agent “X” said quietly, “You say your own doctor is on the way here. It will be better for him to take the case. He undoubtedly knows your son’s constitution — which is an important factor in treating the disease.”
The woman’s fingers tightened on his arm.
“You mean that David will come down with sleeping sickness?”
Her agonized voice touched “X’s” heart. She was a mother — and her only son had come under the shadow of the dread epidemic. His voice was husky as he said:
“Doctors are working now to find a serum. The Public Health Service is at work—”
“At work!” Mrs. Garwick’s eyes blazed. “They had those horrible apes down there — and they let them escape. If my son comes down with the disease — they are to blame!”