There was a creature of Lieutenant Tibbetts a solemn, brown man, who possessed, in addition to a vocabulary borrowed from a departed professor of bacteriology, a rough working knowledge of the cla.s.sics.

This man's name was, as I have already explained, Abid Ali or Ali Abid, and in him Bones discovered a treasure beyond price.

Bones had recently built himself a large square hut near the seash.o.r.e--that is to say, he had, with the expenditure of a great amount of midnight oil, a pair of compa.s.ses, a box of paints, and a T-square, evolved a somewhat complicated plan whereon certain blue oblongs stood for windows, and certain red cones indicated doors. To this he had added an elevation in the severe Georgian style.

With his plan beautifully drawn to scale, with sectional diagrams and side elevations embellishing its margin, he had summoned Mojeri of the Lower Isisi, famous throughout the land as a builder of great houses, and to him he had entrusted the execution of his design.

"This you shall build for me, Mojeri," said Bones, sucking the end of his pencil and gazing lovingly at the plan outspread before him, "and you shall be famous all through the world. This room shall be twice as large as that, and you shall cunningly contrive a pa.s.sage so that I may move from one to the other, and none see me come or go. Also, this shall be my sleeping-place, and this a great room where I will practise powerful magics."

Mojeri took the plan in his hand and looked at it. He turned it upside down and looked at it that way. Then he looked at it sideways.

"Lord," said he, putting down the plan with a reverent hand, "all these wonders I shall remember."

"And did he?" asked Hamilton, when Bones described the interview.

Bones blinked and swallowed.

"He went away and built me a square hut--just a plain square hut. Mojeri is an a.s.s, sir--a jolly old fraud an' humbug, sir. He----"

"Let me see the plan," said Hamilton, and his subordinate produced the cartridge paper.

"H'm!" said Hamilton, after a careful scrutiny. "Very pretty. But how did you get into your room?"

"Through the door, dear old officer," said the sarcastic Bones.

"I thought it might be through the roof," said Hamilton, "or possibly you made one of your famous dramatic entries through a star-trap in the floor--

"'Who is it speaks in those sepulchral tones?

It is the demon king--the grisly Bones!

Bing!'

"and up you pop amidst red fire and smoke."

A light dawned on Bones.

"Do you mean to tell me, jolly old Ham, that I forgot to put a door into my room?" he asked incredulously, and peered over his chief's shoulder.

"That is what I mean, Bones. And where does the pa.s.sage lead to?"

"That goes straight from my sleepin' room to the room marked L," said Bones, in triumph.

"Then you _were_ going to be a demon king," said the admiring Hamilton.

"But fortunately for you, Bones, the descent to L is not so easy--you've drawn a party wall across----"

"L stands for laboratory," explained the architect hurriedly. "An'

where's the wall? G.o.d bless my jolly old soul, so I have! Anyway, that could have been rectified in a jiffy."

"Speaking largely," said Hamilton, after a careful scrutiny of the plan, "I think Mojeri has acted wisely. You will have to be content with the one room. What was the general idea of the house, anyway?"

"Science an' general illumination of the human mind," said Bones comprehensively.

"I see," said Hamilton. "You were going to make fireworks. A splendid idea, Bones."

"Painful as it is to undeceive you, dear old sir," said Bones, with admirable patience, "I must tell you that I'm takin' up my medical studies where I left off. Recently I've been wastin' my time, sir: precious hours an' minutes have been pa.s.sed in frivolous amus.e.m.e.nt--_tempus fugit_, sir an' captain, _festina lente_, an'

I might add----"

"Don't," begged Hamilton; "you give me a headache."

There was a look of interest in Bones's eyes.

"If I may be allowed to prescribe, sir----" he began.

"Thanks, I'd rather have the headache," replied Hamilton hastily.

It was nearly a week before the laboratory was fitted that Bones gave a house-warming, which took the shape of an afternoon tea. Bones, arrayed in a long white coat, wearing a ferocious lint mask attached to huge mica goggles, through which he glared on the world, met the party at the door and bade them a m.u.f.fled welcome. They found the interior of the hut a somewhat uncomfortable place. The gla.s.s retorts, test tubes, bottles, and the paraphernalia of science which Bones had imported crowded the big table, the shelves, and even overflowed on to the three available chairs.

"Welcome to my little workroom," said the hollow voice of Bones from behind the mask. "Wel----Don't put your foot in the crucible, dear old officer! You're sittin' on the methylated spirits, ma'am! Phew!"

Bones removed his mask and showed a hot, red face.

"Don't take it off, Bones," begged Hamilton; "it improves you."

Sanders was examining the microscope, which stood under a big gla.s.s shade.

"You're very complete, Bones," he said approvingly. "In what branch of science are you dabbling?"

"Tropical diseases, sir," said Bones promptly, and lifted the shade.

"I'm hopin' you'll allow me to have a look at your blood after tea."

"Thank you," said Sanders. "You had better practise on Hamilton."

"Don't come near me!" threatened Hamilton.

It was Patricia who, when the tea-things had been removed, played the heroine.

"Take mine," she said, and extended her hand.

Bones found a needle, and sterilized it in the flame of a spirit lamp.

"This won't hurt you," he quavered, and brought the point near the white, firm flesh. Then he drew it back again.

"This won't hurt you, dear old miss," he croaked, and repeated the performance.

He stood up and wiped his streaming brow.

"I haven't the heart to do it," he said dismally.

"A pretty fine doctor you are, Bones!" she scoffed, and took the needle from his hand. "There!"