L. Frank Baum (9 page)

The man looked at him in a surprised way, for he had not heard the boy
enter the room. But he said something in French to a waiter who was
passing, and the latter came to Rob and made a low bow.

"I speak ze Eengliss ver' fine," he said. "What desire have you?"

"What are your rates by the day?" asked the boy.

"Ten francs, M'sieur."

"How many dollars is that?"

"Dollar Americaine?"

"Yes; United States money."

"Ah, OUI! Eet is ze two dollar, M'sieur."

"All right; I can stay about a day before I go bankrupt. Give me a
room."

"CERTAINEMENT, M'sieur. Have you ze luggage?"

"No; but I'll pay in advance," said Rob, and began counting out his
dimes and nickles and pennies, to the unbounded amazement of the
waiter, who looked as if he had never seen such coins before.

He carried the money to the fat gentleman, who examined the pieces
curiously, and there was a long conference between them before it was
decided to accept them in payment for a room for a day. But at this
season the hotel was almost empty, and when Rob protested that he had
no other money the fat gentleman put the coins into his cash box with a
resigned sigh and the waiter showed the boy to a little room at the
very top of the building.

Rob washed and brushed the dust from his clothes, after which he sat
down and amused himself by viewing the pictures that constantly formed
upon the polished plate of the Record of Events.

While following the shifting scenes of the fascinating Record Rob noted
an occurrence that caused him to give a low whistle of astonishment and
devote several moments to serious thought.

"I believe it's about time I interfered with the politics of this
Republic," he said, at last, as he closed the lid of the metal box and
restored it to his pocket. "If I don't take a hand there probably
won't be a Republic of France very long and, as a good American, I
prefer a republic to a monarchy."

Then he walked down-stairs and found his English-speaking waiter.

"Where's President Loubet?" he asked.

"Ze President! Ah, he is wiz his mansion. To be at his residence,
M'sieur."

"Where is his residence?"

The waiter began a series of voluble and explicit directions which so
confused the boy that he exclaimed:

"Oh, much obliged!" and walked away in disgust.

Gaining the street he approached a gendarme and repeated his question,
with no better result than before, for the fellow waved his arms wildly
in all directions and roared a volley of incomprehensible French
phrases that conveyed no meaning whatever.

"If ever I travel in foreign countries again," said Rob, "I'll learn
their lingo in advance. Why doesn't the Demon get up a conversation
machine that will speak all languages?"

By dint of much inquiry, however, and after walking several miles
following ambiguous directions, he managed to reach the residence of
President Loubet. But there he was politely informed that the
President was busily engaged in his garden, and would see no one.

"That's all right," said the boy, calmly. "If he's in the garden I'll
have no trouble finding him."

Then, to the amazement of the Frenchmen, Rob shot into the air fifty
feet or so, from which elevation he overlooked a pretty garden in the
rear of the President's mansion. The place was protected from ordinary
intrusion by high walls, but Rob descended within the enclosure and
walked up to a man who was writing at a small table placed under the
spreading branches of a large tree.

"Is this President Loubet?" he inquired, with a bow.

The gentleman looked up.

"My servants were instructed to allow no one to disturb me," he said,
speaking in excellent English.

"It isn't their fault; I flew over the wall," returned Rob. "The fact
is," he added, hastily, as he noted the President's frown, "I have come
to save the Republic; and I haven't much time to waste over a bundle of
Frenchmen, either."

The President seemed surprised.

"Your name!" he demanded, sharply.

"Robert Billings Joslyn, United States of America!"

"Your business, Monsieur Joslyn!"

Rob drew the Record from his pocket and placed it upon the table.

"This, sir," said he, "is an electrical device that records all
important events. I wish to call your attention to a scene enacted in
Paris last evening which may have an effect upon the future history of
your country."

He opened the lid, placed the Record so that the President could see
clearly, and then watched the changing expressions upon the great man's
face; first indifference, then interest, the next moment eagerness and
amazement.

"MON DIEU!" he gasped; "the Orleanists!"

Rob nodded.

"Yes; they've worked up a rather pretty plot, haven't they?"

The President did not reply. He was anxiously watching the Record and
scribbling notes on a paper beside him. His face was pale and his lips
tightly compressed.

Finally he leaned back in his chair and asked:

"Can you reproduce this scene again?"

"Certainly, sir," answered the boy; "as often as you like."

"Will you remain here while I send for my minister of police? It will
require but a short time."

"Call him up, then. I'm in something of a hurry myself, but now I've
mixed up with this thing I'll see it through."

The President touched a bell and gave an order to his servant. Then he
turned to Rob and said, wonderingly:

"You are a boy!"

"That's true, Mr. President," was the answer; "but an American boy, you
must remember. That makes a big difference, I assure you."

The President bowed gravely.

"This is your invention?" he asked.

"No; I'm hardly equal to that. But the inventor has made me a present
of the Record, and it's the only one in the world."

"It is a marvel," remarked the President, thoughtfully. "More! It is
a real miracle. We are living in an age of wonders, my young friend."

"No one knows that better than myself, sir," replied Rob. "But, tell
me, can you trust your chief of police?"

"I think so," said the President, slowly; "yet since your invention has
shown me that many men I have considered honest are criminally
implicated in this royalist plot, I hardly know whom to depend upon."

"Then please wear these spectacles during your interview with the
minister of police," said the boy. "You must say nothing, while he is
with us, about certain marks that will appear upon his forehead; but
when he has gone I will explain those marks so you will understand
them."

The President covered his eyes with the spectacles.

"Why," he exclaimed, "I see upon your own brow the letters—"

"Stop, sir!" interrupted Rob, with a blush; "I don't care to know what
the letters are, if it's just the same to you."

The President seemed puzzled by this speech, but fortunately the
minister of police arrived just then and, under Rob's guidance, the
pictured record of the Orleanist plot was reproduced before the
startled eyes of the official.

"And now," said the boy, "let us see if any of this foolishness is
going on just at present."

He turned to the opposite side of the Record and allowed the President
and his minister of police to witness the quick succession of events
even as they occurred.

Suddenly the minister cried, "Ha!" and, pointing to the figure of a man
disembarking from an English boat at Calais, he said, excitedly:

"That, your Excellency, is the Duke of Orleans, in disguise! I must
leave you for a time, that I may issue some necessary orders to my men;
but this evening I shall call to confer with you regarding the best
mode of suppressing this terrible plot."

When the official had departed, the President removed the spectacles
from his eyes and handed them to Rob.

"What did you see?" asked the boy.

"The letters 'G' and 'W'."

"Then you may trust him fully," declared Rob, and explained the
construction of the Character Marker to the interested and amazed
statesman.

"And now I must go," he continued, "for my stay in your city will be a
short one and I want to see all I can."

The President scrawled something on a sheet of paper and signed his
name to it, afterward presenting it, with a courteous bow, to his
visitor.

"This will enable you to go wherever you please, while in Paris," he
said. "I regret my inability to reward you properly for the great
service you have rendered my country; but you have my sincerest
gratitude, and may command me in any way."

"Oh, that's all right," answered Rob. "I thought it was my duty to
warn you, and if you look sharp you'll be able to break up this
conspiracy. But I don't want any reward. Good day, sir."

He turned the indicator of his traveling machine and immediately rose
into the air, followed by a startled exclamation from the President of
France.

Moving leisurely over the city, he selected a deserted thoroughfare to
alight in, from whence he wandered unobserved into the beautiful
boulevards. These were now brilliantly lighted, and crowds of pleasure
seekers thronged them everywhere. Rob experienced a decided sense of
relief as he mixed with the gay populace and enjoyed the sights of the
splendid city, for it enabled him to forget, for a time, the
responsibilities thrust upon him by the possession of the Demon's
marvelous electrical devices.

Our young adventurer had intended to pass the night in the little bed
at his hotel, but the atmosphere of Paris proved so hot and
disagreeable that he decided it would be more enjoyable to sleep while
journeying through the cooler air that lay far above the earth's
surface. So just as the clocks were striking the midnight hour Rob
mounted skyward and turned the indicator of the traveling machine to
the east, intending to make the city of Vienna his next stop.

He had risen to a considerable distance, where the air was remarkably
fresh and exhilarating, and the relief he experienced from the close
and muggy streets of Paris was of such a soothing nature that he
presently fell fast asleep. His day in the metropolis had been a busy
one, for, like all boys, he had forgotten himself in the delight of
sight-seeing and had tired his muscles and exhausted his strength to an
unusual degree.

It was about three o'clock in the morning when Rob, moving restlessly
in his sleep, accidently touched with his right hand the indicator of
the machine which was fastened to his left wrist, setting it a couple
of points to the south of east. He was, of course, unaware of the
slight alteration in his course, which was destined to prove of serious
importance in the near future. For the boy's fatigue induced him to
sleep far beyond daybreak, and during this period of unconsciousness he
was passing over the face of European countries and approaching the
lawless and dangerous dominions of the Orient.

When, at last, he opened his eyes, he was puzzled to determine where he
was. Beneath him stretched a vast, sandy plain, and speeding across
this he came to a land abounding in luxuriant vegetation.

The centrifugal force which propelled him was evidently, for some
reason, greatly accelerated, for the scenery of the country he was
crossing glided by him at so rapid a rate of speed that it nearly took
his breath away.

"I wonder if I've passed Vienna in the night," he thought. "It ought
not to have taken me more than a few hours to reach there from Paris."

Vienna was at that moment fifteen hundred miles behind him; but Rob's
geography had always been his stumbling block at school, and he had not
learned to gage the speed of the traveling machine; so he was
completely mystified as to his whereabouts.

Presently a village having many queer spires and minarets whisked by
him like a flash. Rob became worried, and resolved to slow up at the
next sign of habitation.

This was a good resolution, but Turkestan is so thinly settled that
before the boy could plan out a course of action he had passed the
barren mountain range of Thian-Shan as nimbly as an acrobat leaps a
jumping-bar.

"This won't do at all!" he exclaimed, earnestly. "The traveling
machine seems to be running away with me, and I'm missing no end of
sights by scooting along up here in the clouds."

He turned the indicator to zero, and was relieved to find it obey with
customary quickness. In a few moments he had slowed up and stopped,
when he found himself suspended above another stretch of sandy plain.
Being too high to see the surface of the plain distinctly he dropped
down a few hundred feet to a lower level, where he discovered he was
surrounded by billows of sand as far as his eye could reach.

"It's a desert, all right," was his comment; "perhaps old Sahara
herself."

He started the machine again towards the east, and at a more moderate
rate of speed skimmed over the surface of the desert. Before long he
noticed a dark spot ahead of him which proved to be a large body of
fierce looking men, riding upon dromedaries and slender, spirited
horses and armed with long rifles and crookedly shaped simitars.

"Those fellows seem to be looking for trouble," remarked the boy, as he
glided over them, "and it wouldn't be exactly healthy for an enemy to
get in their way. But I haven't time to stop, so I'm not likely to get
mixed up in any rumpus with them."

However, the armed caravan was scarcely out of sight before Rob
discovered he was approaching a rich, wooded oasis of the desert, in
the midst of which was built the walled city of Yarkand. Not that he
had ever heard of the place, or knew its name; for few Europeans and
only one American traveler had ever visited it. But he guessed it was
a city of some importance from its size and beauty, and resolved to
make a stop there.