What did matter, and it was almost fatal in that it gave impetus to this slowly rising tide of mistrust, was that no further radio messages from Mars had been received, following that Tuesday night demonstration. Both Henry and Olinski had made frantic efforts to re-contact the planet, but without result; and every known method to get understandable messages through to Mars was tried. The powerful radio stations of both the Army and Navy had stood by every night, for weeks, to listen in for possible signals from the planet, without success.
All this did not mean necessarily that people were losing interest. As a matter of fact, Henry didn't care what anybody thought. Even if no further messages came from Mars, he still had Mr. Zzyx, who was now living a very active and interesting life. He went out with Henry to clubs, to golf, to the homes of the very rich, and excellent dinners. And wherever he went, the police emergency squads had to be called out to handle the crowds.
The rocket was now reposing in a sealed glass case in the main lobby of the New York Museum of Science. Already it had been viewed by five million people, and they were still coming. Every day, from early morning until closing time, there was a queue of two abreast of those still eager to see the strange projectile that had hurtled through space.
Henry and McGinity gave Jane and me the surprise of our lives the first night they brought Mr. Zzyx downstairs for dinner. The transformation they had wrought in the creature was so utterly incredible that I burst out laughing. Equipped with an ample wardrobe, fashioned by the smartest Fifth Avenue tailors, Mr. Zzyx, through Henry's generosity, was now prepared to shine in the most brilliant and fashionable circles. And yet, even in modern dress, there was still something sinister and ominous about this huge, hairy beast that fairly appalled me.
At my instigation, both Jane and Pat had put extra bolts and locks on their bedroom doors. As for getting into my sleeping apartment, it would have been much easier to get into the safe deposit vaults of the National City Bank. Henry called such precautions "senseless absurdity." Probably such provision against danger was unnecessary, but Pat had had an adventure, shortly after Prince Matani's frightening experience, that had caused the three of us to play safe.
It was easy to understand why Mr. Zzyx took such a fancy to Pat. During his convalescence, she had tried to teach him the alphabet by means of a primer; had shown him picture books, and built houses out of vari-colored blocks, entertaining and amusing him in various ways.
That particular night—early in the evening—she had gone to Mr. Zzyx's apartment with Henry. She happened to be carrying a new novel which she was particularly anxious to begin reading that night. Mr. Zzyx took a fancy to the book, probably on account of the picture of an African jungle luridly depicted in colors on its cover. Pat refused to give it to him, which put him in a bad temper.
She was in a dressing-gown and mules, when she discovered that, after all her trouble in holding on to the book, she had left it behind in Mr. Zzyx's apartment. She hurried back just as she was, and knocked at the door. Niki answered her knock, and on her request, returned the novel, and then closed the door. She went back to her own apartment, and was just about to re-enter it, when she glanced back, down the hall.
Mr. Zzyx was peering out of the doorway of his bedroom. This gave her quite a start, and she darted into her room, quickly locking the door after her.
Her story of what followed was an odd one.