The Metal Monster

  Produced by Judy Boss

  THE METAL MONSTER

  By A. Merritt

  PROLOGUE

  Before the narrative which follows was placed in my hands, I had neverseen Dr. Walter T. Goodwin, its author.

  When the manuscript revealing his adventures among the pre-historicruins of the Nan-Matal in the Carolines (The Moon Pool) had been givenme by the International Association of Science for editing and revisionto meet the requirements of a popular presentation, Dr. Goodwin had leftAmerica. He had explained that he was still too shaken, too depressed,to be able to recall experiences that must inevitably carry with themfreshened memories of those whom he loved so well and from whom, hefelt, he was separated in all probability forever.

  I had understood that he had gone to some remote part of Asia to pursuecertain botanical studies, and it was therefore with the liveliestsurprise and interest that I received a summons from the President ofthe Association to meet Dr. Goodwin at a designated place and hour.

  Through my close study of the Moon Pool papers I had formed a mentalimage of their writer. I had read, too, those volumes of botanicalresearch which have set him high above all other American scientists inthis field, gleaning from their curious mingling of extremelytechnical observations and minutely accurate but extraordinarily poeticdescriptions, hints to amplify my picture of him. It gratified me tofind I had drawn a pretty good one.

  The man to whom the President of the Association introduced me wassturdy, well-knit, a little under average height. He had a broad butrather low forehead that reminded me somewhat of the late electricalwizard Steinmetz. Under level black brows shone eyes of clear hazel,kindly, shrewd, a little wistful, lightly humorous; the eyes both of adoer and a dreamer.

  Not more than forty I judged him to be. A close-trimmed, pointed bearddid not hide the firm chin and the clean-cut mouth. His hair was thickand black and oddly sprinkled with white; small streaks and dots ofgleaming silver that shone with a curiously metallic luster.

  His right arm was closely bound to his breast. His manner as he greetedme was tinged with shyness. He extended his left hand in greeting, andas I clasped the fingers I was struck by their peculiar, pronounced, yetpleasant warmth; a sensation, indeed, curiously electric.

  The Association's President forced him gently back into his chair.

  "Dr. Goodwin," he said, turning to me, "is not entirely recovered asyet from certain consequences of his adventures. He will explain to youlater what these are. In the meantime, Mr. Merritt, will you read this?"

  I took the sheets he handed me, and as I read them felt the gaze of Dr.Goodwin full upon me, searching, weighing, estimating. When I raised myeyes from the letter I found in his a new expression. The shyness wasgone; they were filled with complete friendliness. Evidently I hadpassed muster.

  "You will accept, sir?" It was the president's gravely courteous tone.

  "Accept!" I exclaimed. "Why, of course, I accept. It is not only one ofthe greatest honors, but to me one of the greatest delights to act as acollaborator with Dr. Goodwin."

  The president smiled.

  "In that case, sir, there is no need for me to remain longer," he said."Dr. Goodwin has with him his manuscript as far as he has progressedwith it. I will leave you two alone for your discussion."

  He bowed to us and, picking up his old-fashioned bell-crowned silk hatand his quaint, heavy cane of ebony, withdrew. Dr. Goodwin turned to me.

  "I will start," he said, after a little pause, "from when I met RichardDrake on the field of blue poppies that are like a great prayer-rug atthe gray feet of the nameless mountain."

  The sun sank, the shadows fell, the lights of the city sparkled out, forhours New York roared about me unheeded while I listened to the taleof that utterly weird, stupendous drama of an unknown life, of unknowncreatures, unknown forces, and of unconquerable human heroism playedamong the hidden gorges of unknown Asia.

  It was dawn when I left him for my own home. Nor was it for manyhours after that I laid his then incomplete manuscript down and soughtsleep--and found a troubled sleep.

  A. MERRITT