The Master Key - Lyman Frank Baum (the best motivational books .txt) 📗

would never do to drop into the crowded streets, unless he wanted to become an object of public curiosity; so he looked around for a suitable place to alight.

Near by was a monstrous church that sent a sharp steeple far into the air. Rob examined this spire and saw a narrow opening in the masonry that led to a small room where a chime of bells hung. He crept through the opening and, finding a ladder that connected the belfry with a platform below, began to descend.

There were three ladders, and then a winding flight of narrow, rickety stairs to be passed before Rob finally reached a small room in the body of the church. This room proved to have two doors, one connecting with the auditorium and the other letting into a side street. Both were locked, but Rob pointed the electric tube at the outside door and broke the lock in an instant. Then he walked into the street as composedly as if he had lived all his life in London.

There were plenty of sights to see, you may be sure, and Rob walked around until he was so tired that he was glad to rest upon one of the benches in a beautiful park. Here, half hidden by the trees, he amused himself by looking at the Record of Events.

“London’s a great town, and no mistake,” he said to himself; “but let’s see what the British are doing in South Africa to-day.”

He turned the cylinder to “South Africa,” and, opening the lid, at once became interested. An English column, commanded by a brave but stubborn officer, was surrounded by the Boer forces and fighting desperately to avoid capture or annihilation.

“This would be interesting to King Edward,” thought the boy. “Guess I’ll hunt him up and tell him about it.”

A few steps away stood a policeman. Rob approached him and asked:

“Where’s the king to-day?”

The officer looked at him with mingled surprise and suspicion.

“‘Is Majesty is sojournin’ at Marlb’ro ‘Ouse, just now,” was the reply. “Per’aps you wants to make ‘im a wissit,” he continued, with lofty sarcasm.

“That’s it, exactly,” said Rob. “I’m an American, and thought while I was in London I’d drop in on His Royal Highness and say ‘hello’ to him.”

The officer chuckled, as if much amused.

“Hamericans is bloomin’ green,” he remarked, “so youse can stand for Hamerican, right enough. No other wissitors is such blarsted fools. But yon’s the palace, an’ I s’pose ‘is Majesty’ll give ye a ‘ot reception.”

“Thanks; I’ll look him up,” said the boy, and left the officer convulsed with laughter.

He soon knew why. The palace was surrounded by a cordon of the king’s own life guards, who admitted no one save those who presented proper credentials.

“There’s only one thing to do;” thought Rob, “and that’s to walk straight in, as I haven’t any friends to give me a regular introduction.”

So he boldly advanced to the gate, where he found himself stopped by crossed carbines and a cry of “Halt!”

“Excuse me,” said Rob; “I’m in a hurry.”

He pushed the carbines aside and marched on. The soldiers made thrusts at him with their weapons, and an officer jabbed at his breast with a glittering sword, but the Garment of Repulsion protected him from these dangers as well as from a hail of bullets that followed his advancing figure.

He reached the entrance of the palace only to face another group of guardsmen and a second order to halt, and as these soldiers were over six feet tall and stood shoulder to shoulder Rob saw that he could not hope to pass them without using his electric tube.

“Stand aside, you fellows!” he ordered.

There was no response. He extended the tube and, as he pressed the button, described a semi-circle with the instrument. Immediately the tall guardsmen toppled over like so many tenpins, and Rob stepped across their bodies and penetrated to the reception room, where a brilliant assemblage awaited, in hushed and anxious groups, for opportunity to obtain audience with the king.

“I hope his Majesty isn’t busy,” said Rob to a solemn-visaged official who confronted him. “I want to have a little talk with him.”

“I—I—ah—beg pardon!” exclaimed the astounded master of ceremonies. “What name, please?”

“Oh, never mind my name,” replied Rob, and pushing the gentleman aside he entered the audience chamber of the great king.

King Edward was engaged in earnest consultation with one of his ministers, and after a look of surprise in Rob’s direction and a grave bow he bestowed no further attention upon the intruder.

But Rob was not to be baffled now.

“Your Majesty,” he interrupted, “I’ve important news for you. A big fight is taking place in South Africa and your soldiers will probably be cut into mince meat.”

The minister strode towards the boy angrily.

“Explain this intrusion!” he cried.

“I have explained. The Boers are having a regular killing-bee. Here! take a look at it yourselves.”

He drew the Record from his pocket, and at the movement the minister shrank back as if he suspected it was an infernal machine and might blow his head off; but the king stepped quietly to the boy’s side and looked into the box when Rob threw open the lid.

As he comprehended the full wonder of the phenomenon he was observing Edward uttered a low cry of amazement, but thereafter he silently gazed upon the fierce battle that still raged far away upon the African VELD. Before long his keen eye recognized the troops engaged and realized their imminent danger.

“They’ll be utterly annihilated!” he gasped. “What shall we do?”

“Oh, we can’t do anything just now,” answered Rob. “But it’s curious to watch how bravely the poor fellows fight for their lives.”

The minister, who by this time was also peering into the box, groaned aloud, and then all three forgot their surroundings in the tragedy they were beholding.

Hemmed in by vastly superior numbers, the English were calmly and stubbornly resisting every inch of advance and selling their lives as dearly as possible. Their leader fell pierced by a hundred bullets, and the king, who had known him from boyhood, passed his hand across his eyes as if to shut out the awful sight. But the fascination of the battle forced him to look again, and the next moment he cried aloud:

“Look there! Look there!”

Over the edge of a line of hills appeared the helmets of a file of English soldiers. They reached the summit, followed by rank after rank, until the hillside was alive with them. And then, with a ringing cheer that came like a faint echo to the ears of the three watchers, they broke into a run and dashed forward to the rescue of their brave comrades. The Boers faltered, gave back, and the next moment fled precipitately, while the exhausted survivors of the courageous band fell sobbing into the arms of their rescuers.

Rob closed the lid of the Record with a sudden snap that betrayed his deep feeling, and the king pretended to cough behind his handkerchief and stealthily wiped his eyes.

“‘Twasn’t so bad, after all,” remarked the boy, with assumed cheerfulness; “but it looked mighty ticklish for your men at one time.”

King Edward regarded the boy curiously, remembering his abrupt entrance and the marvelous device he had exhibited.

“What do you call that?” he asked, pointing at the Record with a finger that trembled slightly from excitement.

“It is a new electrical invention,” replied Rob, replacing it in his pocket, “and so constructed that events are reproduced at the exact moment they occur.”

“Where can I purchase one?” demanded the king, eagerly.

“They’re not for sale,” said Rob. “This one of mine is the first that ever happened.”

“Oh!”

“I really think,” continued the boy, nodding sagely, “that it wouldn’t be well to have these Records scattered around. Their use would give some folks unfair advantage over others, you know.”

“Certainly.”

“I only showed you this battle because I happened to be in London at the time and thought you’d be interested.”

“It was very kind of you,” said Edward; “but how did you gain admittance?”

“Well, to tell the truth, I was obliged to knock over a few of your tall life-guards. They seem to think you’re a good thing and need looking after, like jam in a cupboard.”

The king smiled.

“I hope you haven’t killed my guards,” said he.

“Oh, no; they’ll come around all right.”

“It is necessary,” continued Edward, “that public men be protected from intrusion, no matter how democratic they may be personally. You would probably find it as difficult to approach the President of the United States as the King of England.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” said Rob. “It wasn’t much trouble to break through.”

“You seem quite young to have mastered such wonderful secrets of Nature,” continued the king.

“So I am,” replied Rob, modestly; “but these natural forces have really existed since the beginning of the world, and some one was sure to discover them in time.” He was quoting the Demon, although unconsciously.

“You are an American, I suppose,” said the minister, coming close to Rob and staring him in the face.

“Guessed right the first time,” answered the boy, and drawing his Character Marking spectacles from his pocket, he put them on and stared at the minister in turn.

Upon the man’s forehead appeared the letter “E.”

“Your Majesty,” said Rob, “I have here another queer invention. Will you please wear these spectacles for a few moments?”

The king at once put them on.

“They are called Character Markers,” continued the boy, “because the lenses catch and concentrate the character vibrations radiating from every human individual and reflect the true character of the person upon his forehead. If a letter ‘G’ appears, you may be sure his disposition is good; if his forehead is marked with an ‘E’ his character is evil, and you must beware of treachery.”

The king saw the “E” plainly marked upon his minister’s forehead, but he said nothing except “Thank you,” and returned the spectacles to Rob.

But the minister, who from the first had been ill at ease, now became positively angry.

“Do not believe him, your Majesty!” he cried. “It is a trick, and meant to deceive you.”

“I did not accuse you,” answered the king, sternly. Then he added: “I wish to be alone with this young gentleman.”

The minister left the room with an anxious face and hanging head.

“Now,” said Rob, “let’s look over the record of the past day and see if that fellow has been up to any mischief.”

He turned the cylinder of the Record to “England,” and slowly the events of the last twenty-four hours were reproduced, one after the other, upon the polished plate.

Before long the king uttered an exclamation. The Record pictured a small room in which were seated three gentlemen engaged in earnest conversation. One of them was the accused minister.

“Those men,” said the king in a low voice, while he pointed out the other two, “are my avowed enemies. This is proof that your wonderful spectacles indicated my minister’s character with perfect truth. I am grateful to you for thus putting me upon my guard, for I have trusted the man fully.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” replied the boy, lightly; “I’m glad to have been of service to you. But it’s time for me to go.”

“I hope you will favor me with another interview,” said the king, “for I am much interested in your electrical inventions. I will instruct my guards to admit you at any time, so you will not be obliged to fight your way in.”

“All right. But it really doesn’t matter,” answered Rob. “It’s no trouble at all to knock ‘em over.”

Then he remembered his manners