Under the Andes

Rex Stout

Description

In the tradition of Jules Verne's classic A Journey to the Center of the Earth comes Rex Stout's Under the Andes, an early science fiction novel that recounts the exploits of a pair of dashing brothers who stumble across a portal that leads them to a lost Incan civilization.

Sujets

• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 décembre 2009
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775416722
• Langue: English

Extrait

UNDER THE ANDES
* * *
REX STOUT
 
*

Under the Andes First published in 1914.
ISBN 978-1-775416-72-2
© 2009 THE FLOATING PRESS.
While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.
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Contents
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Chapter I - The Sweetheart of a King Chapter II - Beginning the Dance Chapter III - A Modern Marana Chapter IV - Allons! Chapter V - The Cave of the Devil Chapter VI - Captured Chapter VII - The Fight in the Dark Chapter VIII - The Dance of the Sun Chapter IX - Before the Court Chapter X - The Verdict Chapter XI - A Royal Visitor Chapter XII - At the Door Chapter XIII - Into the Whirlpool Chapter XIV - A Fishing Party Chapter XV - The Rescue Chapter XVI - The Escape Chapter XVII - The Eyes in the Dark Chapter XVIII - A Victory and a Conversation Chapter XIX - Afloat Chapter XX - An Inca Spear Chapter XXI - The Midst of the Enemy Chapter XXII - The Beginning of the End Chapter XXIII - We Are Two Chapter XXIV - Conclusion
Chapter I - The Sweetheart of a King
*
The scene was not exactly new to me. Moved by the spirit of adventure,or by an access of ennui which overtakes me at times, I had severaltimes visited the gaudy establishment of Mercer, on the fashionableside of Fifth Avenue in the Fifties. In either case I had founddisappointment; where the stake is a matter of indifference there canbe no excitement; and besides, I had been always in luck.
But on this occasion I had a real purpose before me, though not animportant one, and I surrendered my hat and coat to the servant at thedoor with a feeling of satisfaction.
At the entrance to the main room I met Bob Garforth, leaving. Therewas a scowl on his face and his hand trembled as he held it forth totake mine.
"Harry is inside. What a rotten hole," said he, and passed on. Ismiled at his remark—it was being whispered about that Garforth hadlost a quarter of a million at Mercer's within the month—and passedinside.
Gaudy, I have said it was, and it needs no other word. Not in itselements, but in their arrangement.
The rugs and pictures and hangings testified to the taste of the manwho had selected them; but they were abominably disposed, and therewere too many of them.
The room, which was unusually large, held two or three leather divans,an English buffet, and many easy chairs. A smoking-table, covered,stood in one corner.
Groups of men were gathered about each of the three roulette wheelsranged along the farther side. Through a door to the left could beseen the poker tables, surrounded by grave or jocular faces. Above thelow buzz of conversation there sounded the continual droning voices ofthe croupiers as they called the winning numbers, and an occasionalexclamation from a "customer."
I made my way to the center wheel and stood at the rear of the crowdsurrounding it.
The ball rolled; there was a straining of necks amid an intensesilence; then, as the little pellet wavered and finally came to a restin the hole number twenty-four a fervent oath of disappointment camefrom some one in front of me.
The next moment, rising on tiptoe to look over the interveningshoulders, I found myself looking into the white face of my youngerbrother Harry.
"Paul!" he exclaimed, turning quickly away.
I pushed my way through and stood at his side. There was no sound fromthe group of onlookers; it is not to be wondered at if they hesitatedto offend Paul Lamar.
"My dear boy," said I, "I missed you at dinner. And though this mayoccupy your mind, it can scarcely fill your stomach. Haven't you hadenough?"
Harry looked at me. His face was horribly pale and his eyes bloodshot;they could not meet mine.
"For Heaven's sake, Paul, let me alone," he said, hardly above awhisper. "I have lost ninety thousand."
In spite of myself I started. No wonder he was pale! And yet—
"That's nothing," I whispered back. "But you are making a show ofyourself. Just now you were swearing like a sailor. See how your handtrembles! You were not made for this, Harry; it makes you forget thatyou're a gentleman. They are laughing at you. Come."
"But I say I have lost ninety thousand dollars," said the boy, andthere was wildness in his eye. "Let me alone, Paul."
"I will repay you."
"No. Let me alone!"
"Harry!"
"I say no!"
His mouth was drawn tight and his eyes glared sullenly as those of astubborn child. Clearly it was impossible to get him away withoutmaking a scene, which was unthinkable. For a moment I was at acomplete loss; then the croupier's voice sounded suddenly in my ear:
"You are interrupting us, sir."
I silenced him with a glance and turned to my brother, having decidedin an instant on the only possible course.
"Here, let me have your chair. I will get it back for you. Come!"
He looked at me for a moment in hesitation, then rose without a wordand I took his place.
The thing was tiresome enough, but how could I have avoided it? Theblood that rushes to the head of the gambler is certainly not food forthe intellect; and, besides, I was forced by circumstances into anheroic attitude—and nothing is more distasteful to a man of sense.But I had a task before me; if a man lays bricks he should lay themwell; and I do not deny that there was a stirring of my pulse as I satdown.
Is it possible for a mind to directly influence the movements of alittle ivory ball? I do not say yes, but will you say no? I watchedthe ball with the eye of an eagle, but without straining; I played withthe precision of a man with an unerring system, though my selectionswere really made quite at random; and I handled my bets with thesureness and swift dexterity with which a chess-master places his pawnor piece in position to demoralize his opponent.
This told on the nerves of the croupier. Twice I corrected amiscalculation of his, and before I had played an hour his hand wastrembling with agitation.
And I won.
The details would be tiresome, but I won; and when, after six hours ofplay without an instant's rest, I rose exhausted from my chair andhanded my brother the amount he had lost—I pocketed a few thousandsfor myself in addition. There were some who tried to detain me withcongratulations and expressions of admiration, but I shook them off andled Harry outside to my car.
The chauffeur, poor devil, was completely stiff from the long wait, andI ordered him into the tonneau and took the wheel myself.
Partly was this due to pity for the driver, partly to a desire to leaveHarry to his own thoughts, which I knew must be somewhat turbulent. Hewas silent during the drive, which was not long, and I smiled to myselfin the darkness of the early morning as I heard, now and then, anuncontrollable sigh break through his dry lips. Of thankfulness,perhaps.
I preceded him up the stoop and into the hall of the old house on lowerFifth Avenue, near Tenth Street, that had been the home of ourgrandfather and our father before us. There, in the dim light, Ihalted and turned, while Evans approached from the inner rooms, rubbingeyes heavy with sleep.
Good old Evans! Yet the faithfulness of such a servant has itsdisadvantages.
"Well?" said Harry in a thin, high voice.
The boy's nerves were stretched tightly; two words from me would haveproduced an explosion. So I clapped him on the shoulder and sent himoff to bed. He went sulkily, without looking round, and his shouldersdrooped like those of an old man; but I reflected that that would allbe changed after a few hours of sleep.
"After all, he is a Lamar," I said to myself as I ordered Evans tobring wine and sandwiches to the library.
It was the middle of the following afternoon before Harry appeareddown-stairs. He had slept eleven hours. I was seated in the librarywhen I heard his voice in the hall:
"Breakfast! Breakfast for five at once!"
I smiled. That was Harry's style of wit.
After he had eaten his "breakfast for five" he came in to see me withthe air of a man who was determined to have it out.
I myself was in no mood for talk; indeed, I scarcely ever am in such amood, unless it be with a pretty woman or a great sinner. You mayregard that sentence as tautological if you like; I sha'n't quarrelabout it.
What I mean to say is that it was with a real effort I set myself tothe distasteful task before me, rendered necessary by theresponsibility of my position as elder brother and head of the family.
Harry began by observing with assumed indifference: "Well, and nowthere's the deuce to pay, I suppose."
"As his representative I am not a hard creditor," I smiled.
"I know, I know—" he began impetuously and stopped.
I continued:
"My boy, there is always the deuce to pay. If not for one thing, thenfor another. So your observation would serve for any other time aswell as now. The point is this: you are ten years younger than I, andyou are under my care; and much as I dislike to talk, we must reach anunderstanding."
"Well?" said Harry, lighting a cigarette and seating himself on the armof a chair.
"You have often thought," I continued, "that I have been trying tointerfere with your freedom. But you are mistaken; I have merely beentrying to preserve it—and I have succeeded."
"When our father and mother died you were fifteen years of age. Youare now twenty-two; and I take some credit for the fact that thoseseven years have left no stain, however slight, on the name of Lamar."
"Do I deserve that?" cried Harry. "What have I done?"
"Nothing irremediable, but you must admit that now and then I have beenat no small pains to—er—assist you. But there, I don't intend tospeak of the past; and to tell the truth, I su