We had not been seated long at the table before I realized that Mr. Zzyx, despite his repulsive appearance, possessed the mentality and playful urge of a child. This was evident during the entrée course, when he began to make wig-wag signals with his napkin, in an effort to attract the butler's attention. What possible motive could he have? Then, suddenly, the truth dawned on me. It was Schweizer who served the dinner, and it was the food he brought that interested Mr. Zzyx most. He had a most voracious appetite.
He sat between Henry and McGinity, in a great throne-chair which Henry had brought from Europe. I must admit Niki had accomplished wonders in teaching him how to handle his knife, fork and spoon. He ate everything that was set before him, and showed a great fondness for Henry's choice wines and champagne. Now and then, he would pause in his eating, and look round the table, his sharp black eyes taking us all in, one at a time; then he would chatter something unintelligible, and resume his eating.
Henry noted this, and remarked: "Of course, we all appear very strange to our honored guest, as it would be if we, ourselves, were catapulted to Mars in a rocket, and suddenly found ourselves dining with a group of Martians. In time, I hope he will be able to speak our language."
"And then we'll know what he thinks about us," McGinity suggested. "But he must realize by this time, how much we all think of him." Turning to Mr. Zzyx, he patted him on the arm, and added: "You're in pretty soft, aren't you, young fellow?"
And to out utter amazement, Mr. Zzyx turned to McGinity and spoke—actually spoke for the first time. He distinctly mouthed a word that sounded like "Spaghet!" with emphasis on the last syllable. He sort of hissed the word.
"There you are!" exclaimed Henry. "I thought all along he had the power of speech. I shall engage a tutor for him the very first thing tomorrow morning."
"He certainly said something," McGinity observed; "sounded like Latin to me."
And then Pat distinguished herself. "My opinion is that he tried to say 'spaghetti'," she offered. "That has some Latin connection, hasn't it? Niki says he's terribly fond of it."
After dinner, Mr. Zzyx lounged indolently in the largest easy chair in the library, while Schweizer served coffee. He smoked one cigarette after another with evident enjoyment. When Henry first offered him one of his big cigars, he surprised and amused us by biting off the end of it, and then throwing the cigar away. The end he thrust in his mouth and began chewing it.
A little later, as I placed my empty coffee cup on the butler's tray—this was after Niki had taken Mr. Zzyx upstairs, to undress him and put him to bed—Schweizer whispered: "I beg pardon, sir, but I don't like the looks of that fellow!"