The first American King

by George Gordon Hastings

Possessed of ample means, no breath of suspicion had ever touched Mr. Kearns. The vicissitudes of his calling had enabled him upon many occasions to be of inestimable service to various financial powers, and these powers had gladly placed at his disposal information which had enabled him to build up a handsome private fortune. He was a man of some forty years, of medium height and well-rounded figure, with blue eyes, a ruddy complexion and the general appearance of a prosperous merchant; but the blue eyes had a very keen look at times and the lips a peculiar way of pursing themselves under the heavy, well-kept brown moustache.

It is true that here and there at times it was whispered about that Mr. Kearns’ success was largely due to the vast army of informers—“stool pigeons,” as they were technically termed—fostered and maintained by him among the criminals themselves, and that in many of his most famous cases the mystery had been solved by confessions procured through the exercise of the mysterious rites of the “third degree.” The precise nature of these rites was known to none save the initiated, but it was darkly hinted that, in certain subterranean cells beneath Mr. Kearns’ official quarters, tortures were practised beside which the horrors of the Spanish Inquisition paled into insignificance.

As to the truth of these rumors there seemed to be no precise means of ascertaining, but certain it was that Mr. Kearns’ methods were eminently successful and—nothing pays like success!

With that easy geniality which was one of his characteristics, within twenty-four hours after his arrival Mr. Kearns was on terms of friendly acquaintance with the various other guests. Most of these were men about town, of various ages, but all suffering from much the same physical troubles, and all possessed of much the same manners, habits and train of thoughts. Of men of this stamp, Mr. Kearns saw enough in the city and they did not particularly interest him. Among these guests, the one who most attracted his interest and attention was Professor Walter Stuart Dean, of Chicago. Professor Dean until recently had filled the chair of Science at Chicago University, but had been forced out because of a book on political economy he had published. Some of the theories set forth in this work were of so advanced and radical a character as to give offense to certain patrons of the Institution. Professor Dean’s views were held to be nothing short of an assault upon the sacred Rights of Property. As one obese and influential patron of the seat of learning put it, “Capital stood aghast” at Professor Dean’s views. As someone must suffer whenever poor, timid Capital is thrown into a fright, Professor Dean, in spite of his conceded great abilities, was made to pay the penalty.

The Professor, however, accepted the situation with much equanimity. He had succeeded in selling to one of the great cable companies an invention in connection with the transmission of messages and had received quite a goodly sum. This placed him in a position of pecuniary ease so far as the immediate future was concerned, and he had come to Dr. Belden’s establishment to recruit his energies in preparation for the launching of a scientific scheme, very comprehensive and ambitious in its scope, dealing with the question of aërial navigation.

The Professor was a man of some forty-seven years, tall and thin and with that slight stoop of the shoulders peculiar to the student. The face was clean-shaven and pale, with a marked puff of the flesh above each eye where the brows were wont to contract in the intensity of thought. When the firm, well-cut features lighted in a smile, the face became positively handsome. One of the Professor’s hobbies, which he was fond of discussing with Mr. Kearns, was the question of the economic condition of the masses of the people. The Professor contended—and it pained his kindly nature that such was the case—that the great mass of the people were not as well-off as they should be; that the true happiness and well-being of the great body of mankind had not advanced in proportion to the world’s progress in other directions.

Another pet subject of discussion with the Professor was his theories of aërial navigation. In fact, he declared that he had fully and satisfactorily solved the problem and was prepared in the near future to produce a craft with which the air could be navigated at will, both in safety and at high speed. His plans for this work, he explained, were fully perfected and the completed invention would have been an accomplished fact some time before had he not been hampered by lack of means. But with the funds received from the sale of his electrical device to the cable company he was in possession of sufficient means to put through the work properly, and he intended to devote himself actively to this matter as soon as his present vacation was over. In the meantime, he had written on the subject of aërial navigation sundry pamphlets which had attracted attention in scientific circles.

At first, Mr. Kearns was disposed to regard Professor Dean’s projects in this connection as partaking of the visionary, but as he grew to know him better, the Professor’s clear-headedness and conservatism made more and more of an impression upon him and he came to regard aërial navigation, with Professor Dean as its introducer, as not such an unlikely possibility in the near future.

Another acquaintance made by Mr. Kearns was that of Dr. Raoul Jaquet. Dr. Jaquet was not a guest of Dr. Belden’s famous establishment, but lived in a cottage of his own some little distance away. He was on friendly terms with Dr. Belden, who spoke of him as a man of remarkable attainments in certain branches of scientific research, notably in chemistry and toxicology. Dr. Jaquet cultivated friendly relations with Professor Dean and Mr. Kearns, and his visits to Dr. Belden’s establishment became more frequent than ever. All three were fond of exercise on foot and they took long rambles together over the surrounding country.

Dr. Jaquet, too, had, like Professor Dean, his hobby, and this hobby was the subject of suspended animation. He was a Frenchman some fifty years of age, short and spare of figure, with a complexion dark as if stained with walnut juice, and very black and very curly hair, lightly streaked with gray. He spoke with great volubility, in quick, jerky little sentences whose peculiar idiomatic twists suggested a direct translation from his native French. Upon one occasion, they visited his cottage and he showed them different animals, apparently sound asleep, which he declared were in various stages of suspended animation. He pointed out a peacefully sleeping dog, and explained that it had been in this condition for sixty-five days without a particle of food or drop of liquid. He also exhibited a rabbit which had been in the same state for four months. All he had to do, the Doctor declared, was to restore them to wakefulness and they would promptly resume their normal condition. Mr. Kearns failed to restrain a mild expression of his skepticism; but the Doctor’s voluble protestations forced him to accept the statement of their condition, though he still maintained the animals could either not be aroused at all, or else would drop dead as soon as awakened. The Doctor promptly awakened the rabbit. The animal seemed at first slightly lethargic and dazed, but it quickly vindicated the Doctor’s claims by cavorting about its cage and then falling to work, in a businesslike way, upon a proffered lettuce leaf.