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drunkenness, although he was perfectly sober. "What's all this? Revolvers? We are all friends. Norton had a drop too much—old man baboon dropped in and joined the party—I was going to get him to do some tricks. . . ."
"That's quite enough," said Meldrum sharply. "You are no more drunk than I am. Open that window and let Norton have some air. Loosen his collar—"
A sudden chattering caused him to pause and drew his attention for a moment to the mantel over the fireplace, on to which the little monkey had suddenly jumped from some nearby corner.
"Ha, Fifi!" said Needham quickly. "Lights!" The switch was within easy reach of the creature's hand, and in an instant the room was plunged in darkness.
The hallway being also without illumination, the blackness was profound. Utterly unable to tell what might happen, and fearing the baboon to be the principal danger point, Meldrum came to a swift decision and fired in the direction of the creature's chair. A frightful scream broke the silence followed by a wild gibbering, punctuated at times by what appeared to be Needham's voice shouting commands.
Then there came a loud crash of glass, as the table was overturned, followed by snarling, cursing and pandemonium. Stumbling blindly in the darkness, Meldrum endeavored, without success to locate the switch in the hallway, but finally a faint glimmer showed him the outline of the front door, and he dashed forth into the street.
Several people had collected on hearing the shot, and aid was quickly forthcoming. Together with several neighbors and others, Meldrum again entered the house, and the light in the hall was turned on. The door of the occupied room had been swung shut and the dreadful snarling din still continued.
"The baboon must have broken in an attack my friends," was Meldrum's hurried explanation, as they forced open the room door and finally got the lights turned on.
A hideous litter of broken furniture, pieces of glass, liquor, and bloodstains were everywhere revealed. Needham and the baboon, locked in a death grapple, were rolling among the ruins. By a curious chance, Norton's chair had been left standing, and he still sat there limp and motionless, unaffected by all the noise.
With difficulty, the baboon was overpowered and secured. It was still bleeding copiously from the bullet wound in its shoulder, but it gnashed and tore at its captors with undiminished fury. Needham was bleeding from many wounds and presented a dreadful spectacle, much of his clothing being torn to shreds. In addition to receiving many cuts, he had been badly mauled by the infuriated animal, whose wrath, by some strange combination of circumstances, had been turned against himself. He sat breathing heavily, too exhausted to talk to those around him.
The removal of the animal drew off most of the curious and some sort of order was restored. Realizing that Norton had apparent been drugged, but not wishing just then to say anything of what he had seen, Meldrum made the plea that his friend had evidently been overcome as a result of the terrible scene he had just witnessed, and, procuring a cab, took him first to his own chambers and then to his home, where he was prostrated for some weeks as the result of the shock.
Needham disappeared almost immediately, and Norton's relatives did not deem it expedient to search for him. He was never heard of again in that city, and later it transpired that he had returned to Africa.
The baboon lived for some years after its strange adventure, but on dying it made no confession. And such mysteries as to how long it had been the guest of the South African, whether or not it was the same creature that he had once betrayed into captivity, to what extent the two understood one another, and whether or not it was incited to murder on that dreadful evening, were never solved.
And, indeed, nobody had any great desire that they should be.
