Is That What People Do? (43 page)

Gregor’s shovel clanged against something metallic.

“Is that the tomb?” Myra asked.

But when they had thrown aside more dirt, they saw that it was not a tomb. It was the top of a spaceship.

“What’s
that
doing here?” Jameson asked.

“Isn’t it apparent?” Arnold said. “The hermit is not on his own planet. We know his feelings about Coelle. Naturally he would be here.”

“And naturally he wouldn’t leave his spaceship in plain sight!” Gregor said.

“So he’s here,” Jameson said slowly. “But where? Where on the planet?”

“Almost undoubtedly he’s somewhere in the Skag Castle,” Arnold said.

Jameson turned in triumph to Myra. “You see? I told you it was that crazy hermit! Now we have to catch him.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Arnold said.

“Why not?”

“At the proper time, Edward the Hermit will appear,” Arnold said coolly. And they couldn’t get another word out of him.

That evening the auto-cook surpassed itself. Frank Olson was a little stiff at first; but he unbent over the brandy, and regaled them with stories of the planets he had touched upon in his search for mining properties. Jameson wanted to search the castle and drag the hermit out of his hiding place. Sullenly, he yielded when Arnold pointed out the impossibility of four people covering several hundred rooms and passageways.

Later they played bridge. Arnold’s mind was elsewhere, however, and after he’d trumped his partner’s perfectly good trick a second time, they all decided to call it a night.

V

An hour later, Mike Arnold whispered across the bedroom, “Are you asleep?”

“No,” Gregor whispered back.

“Get dressed, then, but leave your shoes off.”

“What’s up?”

“I think we are going to solve the mystery of Skag Castle tonight. Mind if I borrow your needler?”

Gregor gave it to him. They tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the great central staircase. They found a vantage point behind an enameled suit of Skag armor, from which they could watch without being seen. For half an hour there was silence.

Then they saw a shape at the top of the landing. Soundlessly it crept down the staircase and glided across the hall.

“Who is it?” Gregor whispered.

“Shh!” Arnold whispered back.

They followed the shape into the library. There it hesitated, as though uncertain what to do next.

At that moment the underground rumblings began, shattering the silence. The shape jerked abruptly, startled. A light appeared in its hand. By its feeble glow, the partners recognized Frank Olson.

With his tiny flashlight, Olson searched one library wall. Finally he pressed a panel. It slid back, revealing a small switchboard. Olson turned two dials. The underground noises stopped at once.

Wiping his forehead, Olson listened for several moments. Then he snapped off his light and crept noiselessly back to the hall, up the stairs, and into his bedroom.

Arnold pulled Gregor back behind the enameled armor.

“That ties it,” Gregor said. “There’s our Undead Scarb.”

Arnold shook his head.

“Of course he is,” Gregor said. “He must have planned this in order to frighten Myra off the planet. Then he could buy the mineral rights for next to nothing.”

“Seems reasonable, doesn’t it?” Arnold said. “But you’ve got a lot to learn about detection. In cases of this sort, what’s reasonable is never right. The apparent solution is always wrong. Invariably!”

“Why look for complications that aren’t there?” Gregor asked.

“We
saw
Olson go to that hidden switchboard. We
heard
the noises stop as soon as he touched the controls. Or was that pure coincidence?”

“No, there’s a relationship.”

“Hmm. Maybe Olson isn’t a mining representative at all. Do you think someone hired him? Edward the Hermit, maybe? As a matter of fact, perhaps he
is
Edward the Hermit!”

“Shh,” Arnold whispered. “Look!”

Gregor’s eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. This time he recognized the man at once. It was Jameson, tiptoeing down the stairs.

Jameson walked to one side of the hall and turned on a small flashlight. By its light he found a panel in the wall, and pressed it. The panel slid back, revealing a small switchboard. Jameson breathed heavily and reached for the dials. Before he could touch them he heard a noise, and stepped quickly back.

A figure stepped out of the darkness. It was about six feet in height, and its face was hideous and reptilian. A long, spiked tail dragged behind it, and its fingers were webbed.

“I am the Undead Scarb!” it said to Jameson.

“Awk!” Jameson said, backing away.

“You must leave this planet,” the Scarb said. “You must leave at once—or your life is forfeit!”

“Sure,” Jameson said hastily. “Sure I will. Just stay away. We’ll leave, Myra and I—”

“Not Miss Ryan. The Earthwoman has shown a reverent understanding for the Old Lore, and for the spirit of Skag. But you, Ross Jameson, have profaned the Sacred Burrow.”

The Scarb moved closer, its webbed fingers splayed. Jameson backed into a wall, and suddenly pulled a blaster.

At that moment Arnold snapped on the lights. He shouted, “Don’t shoot, Ross. You’d be arrested for murder.” He turned to Gregor. “Now let’s get a close look at this Scarb.”

The Undead Scarb put one hand on top of his scaled head and pulled. The terrible head peeled off, revealing beneath it the youthful features of Edward the Hermit.

In a short time everyone was assembled in the great hall. Olson looked sleepy and disgruntled. He was fully dressed, as was Jameson. Myra was wearing a plaid wool bathrobe, and she was staring with interest at Edward the Hermit.

Edward looked younger than the picture on the jacket of his book. He had peeled off the rest of his Scarb disguise, and was wearing patched jeans and a gray sweatshirt. He was deeply tanned, his blond hair was cropped short, and he would have been good-looking if it weren’t for the expression of fear and apprehension on his face.

After Arnold had summed up the events of the night, Myra was completely bewildered.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Mr. Olson was turning Skag noises on and off, Ross had a switchboard, and Edward the Hermit was disguised as a Scarb. What’s the explanation? Were they
all
trying to drive me from Coelle?”

“No,” Arnold said. “Mr. Olson’s part in this was purely accidental. Those underground noises weren’t designed to frighten you. Were they, Mr. Olson?”

Olson smiled ruefully. “They certainly were not. As a matter of fact, I came here to stop them.”

“I don’t understand,” Myra said.

“I’m afraid,” Arnold said, “that Mr. Olson’s company has been engaged in a bit of illegal mining.” He smiled modestly. “Of course I recognized the characteristic sound of a Gens-Wilhem automatic oreblaster at once.”

“I
told
them to install mufflers,” Olson said. “Well, the full explanation is this. Coelle was surveyed seventeen years ago, and an excellent deposit of sligastrium was found. Transstellar Mining offered the then owner, James McKinney, a very good price for mineral rights. He refused, but after a short stay he left Coelle for good. A company official decided to extract a little ore anyhow, since this planet was so far out, and there were no local observers. You’d be surprised how common a practice that is.”

“I think it’s despicable,” Myra said.

“Don’t blame me,” Olson said. “I didn’t set up the operation.”

“Then those underground noises—” Gregor said.

“Were merely the sounds of mining apparatus,” Olson told them. “You caught us by surprise, Miss Ryan. We never really expected the planet to be inhabited again. I was sent, posthaste, to turn off the machines. Just half an hour ago I had my first opportunity.”

“What if I hadn’t asked you to stay overnight?” Myra asked.

“I would have faked a blown gasket or something.” He sighed and sat down. “It was a pretty good operation while it lasted.”

“That takes care of the noises,” Jameson said. “The rest we know. This hermit came here, hid his spaceship, and disguised himself as a Scarb. He had already threatened Myra. Now he was going to frighten her into leaving Coelle.”

“That’s not true!” Edward shouted. “I—I was—”

“Was what?” Gregor asked.

The hermit clamped his mouth shut and turned away.

Arnold said, “
You
found that secret panel, Ross.”

“Of course I did. You’re not the only one who can detect. I knew there were no such things as Undead Scarbs and Skag ghosts. From what Myra told me, the whole thing sounded like an illusion to me, probably a modulated wave-pattern effect. So I looked around for a control board. I found it this afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gregor asked.

“Because I consider you a pair of incompetents,” Ross said contemptuously. “I came down this evening to catch the culprit in the act. And I did, too. I believe there are prison sentences for this sort of thing.”

Everyone looked at Edward. The hermit’s face had gone pale
under its tan, but still he didn’t speak.

Arnold walked to the control board and looked at the dials and switches. He pushed a button, and the great nine-foot figure of the Scarb appeared. Myra recognized it and gave a little gasp. Even now it was frightening. Arnold turned it off and faced Jameson.

“You were pretty careless,” Arnold said quietly. “You really shouldn’t have used company equipment for this. Every item here is stamped Jameson Electronics.”

“That doesn’t prove a thing,” Jameson said. “Anyone can buy that equipment.”

“Yes. But not everyone can use it.” He turned to the hermit. “Edward, are you an engineer, by any chance?”

“Of course not,” Edward said sullenly.

“We have no proof of that,” Jameson said. “Just because he says he isn’t—”

“We have proof,” Gregor burst in. “The hermit’s book! When his electric blanket broke down, he didn’t know how to fix it. And remember Chapter Six? It took him over a week to find out how to change a fuse in his auto-cook!”

Arnold said relentlessly, “The equipment’s got your company’s name on it, Ross. And I’ll bet we find you’ve been absent from your office for considerable periods. The local spaceport will have any record of your taking out an interstellar ship. Or did you manage to hide all that?”

By Ross’s face they could tell he hadn’t. Myra said, “Oh, Ross.”

“I did it for you, Myra,” Jameson said. “I love you, but I couldn’t live out here! I’ve got a company to think about, people depend on me…”

“So you tried to scare me off Coelle,” Myra said.

“Doesn’t that show how much I care for you?”

“That kind of caring I can live without,” Myra said.

“But, Myra—”

“And that brings us to Edward the Hermit,” Arnold said.

The hermit looked up quickly. “Let’s just forget about me,” he said. “I admit I was trying to scare Miss Ryan off her planet. It was stupid of me. I’ll never bother her again in any way. Of course,” he said, looking at Myra, “if you want to press charges—”

“Oh, no.”

“I apologize again. I’ll be going.” The hermit stood up and started toward the door.

“Wait a minute,” Arnold said. The expression on his face was painful. He hesitated, sighed fatalistically, and said, “Are you going to tell her, or shall I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Edward said. “I must leave now—”

“Not yet. Myra’s entitled to the whole truth,” Arnold said. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Myra stared at the hermit. Edward’s shoulders drooped hopelessly.

“What is all this?” she asked. Edward looked angrily at Arnold.

“I suppose you won’t be satisfied until I’ve made an utter fool of myself. All right, here goes.” He faced Myra. “When you radioed me and said you were going to live on Coelle, I was horrified. Everything started to go to pieces for me.”

“But I was millions of miles away,” Myra said.

“Yes. That was the trouble. You were so near—astronomically —and yet so far. You see, I was deathly sick of the whole hermit thing. I could stand it as long as no one was around, but once you came—”

“If you were tired of being a hermit,” Myra said, “why didn’t you leave?”

“My agent told me it would be literary suicide,” the hermit said with a sickly attempt at a cynical grin. “You see, I’m a writer. This whole thing was a publicity stunt. I was to hermit a planet and write a book. Which I did. The book was a best-seller. My agent talked me into doing a second book. I couldn’t leave until it was done. That would have ruined everything. But I was starving for a human face. And then you came.”

“And you threatened me,” Myra said.

“Not really. I said I wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences. I was really referring to my sanity. For days after that I thought about you. Suddenly I realized I had to see you. Absolutely had to! So I came here, hid the ship—”

“And walked around dressed as a Scarb,” Jameson sneered.

“Not at first,” Edward said. “After I saw you, I guess—well, I guess I fell in love with you. I knew then that if you stayed on Coelle—practically next door, astronomically—I could find the strength to stay on Kerma and finish my book. But I saw that this Jameson fellow was trying to scare you off. So I decided to scare
him
off.”

“Well,” Myra said, “I’m glad we finally have met. I enjoyed your book so much.”

“Did you?” Edward said, his face brightening.

“Yes. It inspired me to live on Coelle. But I’m sorry to hear it was all a fraud.”

“It wasn’t!” Edward cried. “The hermit thing was my agent’s idea, but the book was perfectly genuine, and I did have all those experiences, and I
did
feel those things. I like being away from civilization, and I especially like having my own planet. The only thing wrong...”

“Yes?”

“Well, Kerma would be perfect if only I had one other person with me. Someone who understands, who feels as I do.”

“I know just how you feel,” Myra said.

They looked at each other. When Jameson saw that look, he moaned and put his head in his hands.