"He won't like it," said Woolrich doubtfully.
"He's got to like it. What are we paying him for? He hasn't turned a hand so far. He ought to be glad we've solved the problem for him."
"He might not see it that way."
Joe opened a drawer in the desk, pulled out a metal can.
"See this? It's a somnol spray, to be used on drunks and roughnecks. We'll give him a dose, and he won't even know what's happening. Where is he now?"
"In the engine room. He's been puttering around all morning, working on the lathe."
Blaine sneered. "Now, isn't that the limit? He's supposed to be the brains, the trouble-shooter, and he leaves it to us. Well, we'll fix that. He'll earn his money, whether he wants to or not."
Lucky reluctantly rose to his feet. "Maybe if we asked him - "
"Better this way," said Joe. "It's not as if there's any danger. We know the stuff works. Don't the Mollies run around scot-free? And besides, we'll be standing right there with guns."
They found Magnus Ridolph in the workshop, polishing a metal tube with a piece of crocus cloth. As they entered he looked up, nodded, and fitted the tube through a hole in a metal cup. He coupled a hose to the tube, set the apparatus in a jig, turned a valve. There came a hiss of air, a thin blowing sound.
Magnus Ridolph gazed at the pattern on an oscillograph. "Hm," he muttered. "That's about right, I should say."
"What are you doing, Mr. Ridolph?" asked Blaine jocularly, one hand close behind his back.
Magnus Ridolph gave him a cool glance, then returned to his apparatus and detached it from the jig.
"I'm refining a certain musical principle..."
S-s-s-s, went the somnol bomb. A fine mist surrounded Magnus Ridolph's distinguished head. He gasped, stiffened, slumped.
"Did you hear him, Lucky?" Joe kicked at the metal tube Magnus Ridolph still clutched in his hand. "Fooling around with music, when we're in a jam."
Lucky said, "I guess that musical kaleidoscope sort of went to his head. He used to be a good man, so I've heard."
"You must have heard wrong," said Joe. "Well, let's take him out on the beach. Here's a wheelbarrow. That should do the hick."
They trundled the supine body out into the white blaze of the sun, two hundred yards down the beach.
"This is far enough," said Blaine. "Let's douse him and get back under the trees. It makes me nervous, being in the open like this. Those dragons are like flies this time of day."
They lifted Magnus Ridolph from the wheelbarrow, stretched him on the sand, and Joe poured the black liquid liberally across his chest.
"Gad!" coughed Lucky. "It even comes upwind!"
"She's rich," said Joe complacently. "When I go after something, I get it. Now come on, let's get out of the way. Hurry up, there's a dragon out there now."
They ran up to the edge of the jungle and waited/ The speck low on the horizon expanded, became a flapping monster. Joe held his rifle ready.
"Just in case," he told Lucky.
The dragon bulked large in the sky. It saw Magnus Ridolph's prone figure, circled.
Lucky said, "Golly, I just thought of something!"
"What?" snapped Joe.
"If that stuff doesn't work, we won't know until the dragon's pretty close. And then - "
"Rats!" said Joe bluffly. "It'll work. It's got to."
The dragon made a sudden swoop to the beach, waddled forward.
Twenty yards - "It don't faze him!" cried Lucky.
Ten yards. Blaine raised the gun, lowered it again.
"Shoot, Joe - for Pete's sake, shoot!"
"I can't!" cried Blaine. "I'll blow Ridolph to pieces!"
Lucky Woolrich ran out on the beach, yelled, jumped up and down. The dragon paid no heed.
Five yards. Magnus Ridolph stirred. Perhaps the odor of the black liquid had aroused him, perhaps some sensation of danger. He shook his head, propped himself on his elbow.
It was a rude awakening for Magnus Ridolph. Eye to eye he stared at the dragon.
The dragon opened its maw, darted its head forward, snapped. Magnus Ridolph rolled over, escaped by an inch.
Blaine shook his head. "That stuff doesn't work at all!"
The dragon made a quick hop, darted its head forward again. Magnus Ridolph again stumbled back, and the fangs clanged past his ribs. He still clutched his metal tube. He frantically put it to his lips, puffed out his cheeks, blew, blew, blew.
The dragon pulled its head back like a turtle. It jerked its legs, its wings. Magnus Ridolph blew. The dragon gave a great belching roar, in almost comical haste lumbered away. The tremendous leather pinions flapped; it sluggishly took the air, departed across the ocean.
Magnus Ridolph sat down on the sand. For a long moment he sat limply. Then he looked down at his tunic, once crisp and white, now befouled with a black viscosity. As the wind changed, Joe and Lucky felt the odor. Joe coughed, and Magnus Ridolph slowly looked in their direction.
And slowly Magnus Ridolph got to his feet, threw aside his tunic, and slowly marched back to the hotel.
Magnus Ridolph appeared at dinnertime scrubbed, polished, in clean clothes. His white beard was brushed till it shone like angelical floss, and his manner was unusually affable.
Lucky and Joe were relieved to find him in such good humor. They had expected angry accusations, threats and demands. Magnus Ridolph's genial attitude came as a glad surprise, and they vied with each other in cordiality. Mayla, in bed with a headache, was not present.
Blaine explained the circumstances which had led to the experiment, and Magnus Ridolph seemed genuinely interested.
Lucky went so far as to be jocular, " - and Lord, Magnus, when you looked up at that dragon, I swear your beard stuck out from your face like it was electrified!"
"Of course we had you covered all the time," said Joe. "We had a bead on that dragon every instant. One false move and he'd have been a goner."
"Just what was that tube, Magnus?" asked Lucky. "It sure did the trick. Marvelous." He nudged Blaine. "I told you he had brains."
Magnus Ridolph held up a deprecatory hand. "Simple application of what I learned from the movies you showed me."
"How's that?" asked Joe, lighting a cigar.
"Have you noticed the voice-box on the Mollies? It's a paraboloid surface, and the vibrator is at the focus. It gives them exquisite control over sound. By moving the vibrator they can concentrate a node at any given point; I wouldn't doubt but what they see the pressure patterns in some peculiar manner. In other words, they can use their voices as men use an air-hammer, especially in the supersonic ranges. I suspected as much when I saw them excavating those foundations. They were not blowing the sand out with air, they were blasting it out with appropriately applied pressure waves."
"Why, of course!" said Joe, disgustedly spitting a bit of tobacco to the side. "That's how they mixed up the mess in that terrible wallow. Just dumped it in, looked at it, and it all seemed to melt and stir in by itself."
Lucky reproached Joe with a look; best to keep Magnus Ridolph's mind away from wallows and vile black ooze.
Magnus Ridolph lit a cigarette and puffed a thoughtful gust into the air.
"Now when one of the native beasts attacked them, they projected a supersonic beam in a frequency to which the creatures were most sensitive. Probably aimed for a tender spot - the eye, for instance. A study of the sound track proved my theory. I found a clear record of strong inaudible sounds. I calculated the rate of what seemed the most effective frequency, and this morning built a suitable projector."
Joe and Lucky shook their heads in admiration. "Don't see how he does it."-"Beats everything I've ever heard of."
Magnus Ridolph smiled. "Now for the hotel, I recommend several large oscillators, mounted permanently, and arranged to project a curtain of the most effective frequency around the property. Any competent sonic engineer can set up such a dome for you."