A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, October 1950 — page 100: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

98 A. MERRITT’S FANTASY meet two of the most entertaining men in the world. Monsieur Journeaux has been—why, but where is Monsieur Jorneaux, Dr. Arnold? He was with you only a moment ago.” I was wondering myself, but I answered, “Dipping a finger in the social poi pot, perhaps, or renewing his acquaintance with deposed royalty. You know Jorneaux is the little brother of all the world.” “Isn’t he?’ she laughed. “Indeed, Roger, you must meet him, too. He is a most informing person. He’s been everywhere, even to those out-of-the-way corners of the earth where you used to lose youself for months at a time.” Salisbury’s acknowledgment of the introduction struck me as distinctly curt. Almost immediately he turned away with a tightening of the fine muscles of his handsome, slightly arrogant face, and a weary, almost nervous gesture across his brow. Feeling myself distinctly unwelcome, I was about to withdraw, with a murmured banality, when Miss Talbert’s attention was distracted by a spectacle which, descending from the distant cliffs, ap- proached along the edge of the breakers. A score of rude torches, flaming redly, revealed glimpses of long gleaming spears, their tips catching and reflecting the ruddy glare. As the procession neared we distin- guished a line of lithe brown bodies, ap- parently naked in the moonlight, which strode toward the white line of the surf. Of the barbaric primitiveness of the spectacle, naked savages, threatening spears, flaming torches, words can give little suggestion. The girl gazed, delighted. But my at- tention was almost immediately diverted from her by the extraordinary effect of the scene upon the man at her side. He stood for an instant as if unbelieving ; then closing his eyes, he again passed his hand across his brow, slowly almost violently, as if he would forcibly erase from his mental vision the thing he had seen. Almost immediately he turned to us, laughing a little uncertainly. “Fishing with spears,” he said in an- swer to the girl’s eager questions; “the pfinitive native way. Never happened to see it done here before.’”’ Then as the eagerly absorbed girl did not reply, he turned casually to me. “Your friend’s name is—”’ he hesitated. “Jorneaux,” I replied, adding, “hardly a friend; a ship acquaintance, but a most interesting chap.” “So I gather. A short of scholar ad- venturer, you say?” ‘“‘A sort of itinerant interrogation point; although I do not remember having said so before.” “I say,” abruptly he turned to the girl, “are you still keen about this?’ He waved a disparaging hand. “There’s dancing at the hotel, you know. Mrs. Sartin will be waiting for you there; and you'll like that, too, you know.” “Better than this? Have all the head- liners appeared yet” she persisted. “There’s still to be a hula, carefully expurgated of all that makes it a hula, I believe, but—” “Oh, well, I suppose we've seen the best,” she turned a little lingeringly, I thought. “Let’s go, then, before some- thing imperfect spoils it all.” With unconcealed relief he took her arm and guided her deftly through the crowd. Wie AT last I found Jorneaux, laughing and talking with a group of wreath-crowned Hawaiians, he did not, at first refer by way of apology or explan- ation to his abrupt desertion of me on the beach. “You missed meeting the bridegroom,” I told him boastfully. Then as he did not answer, I impulsively added something unjustified by our brief acquaintance, “I believe you’re deliberately avoiding Miss Talbert ; and you seemed rather attracted on the China.” “I was,” admitted Jorneaux placidly, “and I am. But not for the reason you imagine. Arnold,” hc went on, and his expressive voice was poignant with re- gret, “I’m placed in the peculiar position of being about to have satisfied that most inordinate of my appetites— my curiosity —and not liking it.” We were strolling aimlessly, as we walked, along the warm sand toward the hotel, at our left the wraithlike sigh and flutter of the light surf, at our right the wavering line of little lights. (C(O) nN) (C 6)(0)©) (C(O)