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Title of Story
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An Awkward Dilemma (Mendax)
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Story Summary
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While no specific science was described Mendax had attempted to clone himself with multiple jars of progressing cell cultures and the housekeeper unknown to him just before he arrived at the laboratory had put her granddaughters baby in the final jar to his immense shock.
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Attributed Author
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Cox, Erle
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Nationality
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Australian
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Year For Sorting
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1937
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Date Range
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1937-08-07-1937-08-07
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Links in To Be Continued
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NA
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Newspaper Name Location Years
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The Australasian (Melb, Vic)
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OCR from TBC and Trove
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An Awkward DilemmaBy Erle CoxIT had been more thanthree months since I had come into contact with Mendax. For reasons which would be obvious to anyoneacquainted with that causticgenius, the loss of his society caused little or no regret. On the last occasion on which I had called at his house to deliver a message for a mutual friend who feared that he would feel im-pelled to assault Mendax if he delivered it in person, he hadrefused to see me.His housekeeper, Mrs. Verjuice, had delivered his reply to my request for an audience verbatim. It was to the effect that he was busy, and it specified most explicitly to where he wished I should go, how, as well as the length of my sojourn in that place. A few days later I met him in the street. He had either forgotten or he pretended to for-get the offensiveness of his message. Indeed, I think he would have been sur-prised that I either remembered it orresented it.I remember that in the course of our 10 minutes' talk he referred to some cabled message that Sir Oliver Lodge had foretold the possibility of chemically vitalising artificial protoplasm, and to the condemnation of such experiments by leading churchmen. He went off into a blistering indictment of Sir Oliver Lodge's methods and of clerical inter-ference with science, from which I gathered that he was deep in similar experiments himself, but on a muchmore elaborate scale.At the moment I took little notice of his ravings, but later I had reason to remember them. That was the last I had seen or heard of him until I re-ceived a telephone summons through Mrs. Verjuice to call on him. She had said that "the boss wants to see you at once." In reply to my desire for fur-ther enlightenment, she said that it was none o' her business, and I'd be sorry for it if I didn't come. As she slammed up her receiver I caught a remark that sounded like "Nice goin's on, I don't think."Now Mendax was, socially, an un-speakable brute. His manners were ap-palling, and his language was worse, but he had one inestimable virtue. He was never dull. At the time I received his peremptory message I was feeling very dull indeed. The thought that his so-ciety would be an improvement on my own at the moment urged me to pocket my pride and ascertain the meaning ofthe summons.The great garden which surrounded his house seemed to be more neglected and overgrown than ever. Except for a track, the drive was obliterated by weeds. Remembering long waits on the worn mat, I hammered loudly on the paint-blistered double doors. It was Mrs. Verjuice who flung them open, rather to my surprise, before the echoes of fhy attack had died away.She demanded fiercely to know whether I thought she was deaf. In exaggerated endearments I had found the only sure means of checking her venomous tongue. I bowed ceremoniously, and assured her it was only a turbulent and uncontrollable desire to gaze upon her countenance that had inspired my anxiety for admittance. "What youTl get one of these days is a clout over the head," she snorted.I was about to tell her that even violence could not quench my devotion when a sound cut the words short on my lips. Prom the far end of the wide passage where Mendax's laboratory was situated' came the muffled but unmistakable cry of an infant. Of all the wonders I had come across in that strange house the very last I should have expected was an infant. Whatever other inclination Mendax had he had none for domesticity.1 stared at Mrs. Verjuice, a figure of wide-eyed, open-mouthed interrogation. In her hard grey eyes there was a light of malicious amusement." 'Ark at 'im-at 'is age-me bein' always respectable, too." Then as an afterthought, "Oh, ye, 'e's clever, but 'e ain't clever enough to stop that kid howlin'-nice goln's cm," she sniffed."But whose child is it?" I demanded.- 'E sez"-she stopped abruptly.MENDAX was in his shirtsleeves. He had flung off his collar. His untovely mat of straw-coloured hair was on end. His face bore a look of furious exasperation, combined with hopeless anguish.As I entered he scarcely looked up. His mind seemed to be concentrated on a bundle in a blanket which he held in his arms, and from which came vociferous evidences of infantile woe. Speech left me, but I was still able to laugh,and I did.I even heard a dry cackle from behind me. The sound of my laughter seemed to be the spark that detonated Mendax, He reared his gaunt figure and poured over us a flood of vitriolic abuse, remarkable even for him. When at lengthhe paused for breath, Mrs. Verjuice croaked:-"Oh, you wicked old devil,, talkln' like that in front of yer Innocent kid.""Take the wretched thing," he shouted, holding the bundle out to her. "I cant stop it,""Not me," she snapped, her hands on her wide hips. 'Tin a respectable woman, I am. I cooks for yer and I washes for yer, but I nurses none of than for yer.""But didn't I ten you "She cut Ww *>hort. "Think I'm a fool to believe that yarn? It's the very himage of yer. Take a squint at it," she appealed to me. "It's'the dead spitof *im."Goaded into self defence, his nerve broken, Mendaac threw back the blanket from the squalling bundle. "Did you call that uim me?" he demanded furiously. As a bachelor X am no authority on babies, but never did I imagine such a totally unprepossessing specimen.Its red, crinkled face seemed to be one vast mouth, from which came a volume of , sound out of all proportion to the size of the puny body. I did not think it possible to libel Mendax's face, but Mrs. Verjuice had achieved that apparently hopeless slander.Still, I owed him something, and after a close scrutiny I observed that its eyes and forehead were very like that of Mendax. He looked as if his last support had failed him.Then he turned to Mrs. Verjuice. 'Til give you a quid, if you'll take it and quieten it," he begged. She took the bundle from his arms and Mfnrtax placed a note from a roll which he drew from his pocket into the greedy, outstretched hand. A'light dawned on me. "How much is that costing you a day?" I asked as the closed door shut off the volume of sound. He came to hlmBelf and sighed. "A five yesterday, and that's the fourth to-day-but its worth it." For the first time In our long acquaintance, I sa^r Mendax broken andcowed.He dropped himself wearily into a chair and nodded me to another.. He was so hopelessly depressed that I could not find heart to protest as be commenced to fill his pipe with his awful black tobacco. "Tell me the worst, Mendax," I asked, "that is if it's fit for the ears of innocence." Had he been normal that prod would have begun something. Instead he blinked at me reflectively and polluted the room with a cloud of smoke before he spoke."You remember the last time I saw you," he began, "we were talking of Sir Oliver Lodge's prophecies about synthetic life?""You were," I corrected.He disregarded my interruption. "Well, 'Tve been working on those lines for years. Tve forgotten more than he is ever likely to know about it.""Well?" I asked.He stared at me with the offensive compassion that one would bestow on a congenital idiot. "Well," be mimicked me, "Isn't that sufficient?""I'm thick-headed, I suppose," Z replied irritably, "but what's that got to do with that last thing in infants?""That, my poor fool," he answered, nodding his head in the direction of the faint wail that still reached us, "is the result of my experiments."He rose and walked across the room where rows of great glass jars lined the shelves. Beginning at <me end, he worked along, talking. "Here," he said, pointing to the first jar, "was where I began. Now note the progressive improvement." The first Jar showed a faint slimy sediment, which Increased in other jars until a sprawling, unsightly organism covered the bottom of the last."Those things alive?" I demanded, nodding towards the jars."Not only alive," he answered, with a ring of pride, "but endowed with life by me." »."Can't say I think much of them," was my candid comment. "It's a longvay from that unpleasant creation of yours to tibat other.""Ip it?" he sneered. "It's only one step, my friend. I got the clue from that last jar.""A pretty long step," I said, looking up from the unpleasantness he mentioned."See that jar on the bench?" He pointed with his pipe stem to the great wide-mouthed amphora. "I set that jar four months ago. Up till last week it was going along as I expected. Then I had to go to Sydney for the bacteriological conference. Got back the night before last. Found Mrs. V. had left to attend some fool relative who was sick. Two or three times in the night I heard a noise and thought It was a cat howling. Came down in the morning, walked in here, and that infant was howling in the jar/'"Take the wretched thing," he shouted, ? holding the bundle out to her."I cant stop it."fr^HERE could be no doubt ofI his seriousness. Whatever -1- the facts were, Mendax believed what he told me. "Mendax," I said, "someone must have put it there."For a wonder he did not storm at me. "How?" he demanded. "The only living soul who knew what I was working on was Von Herfcomer, of Bonn, and he Is half-way back to Germany. That poisonous old she cat was not in the house. She dldnt get back until after lunch. I had to look after the youngster myself till she came."* I let it go at that for the moment. "Anyhow, Mendax, where do I come in?""I can't keep it," he almost whined. "I must get rid of it somehow."(Continued on Page 12.)An Awkward Dilemma(Continued from Page 6.) There was a long and painful silence. Then he spoke: "Look here, you get your living by writing lies, don't you?""Trying to conciliate me?" I askedshortly."Well, don't you?" he Insisted. "Thai s vour profession, inventing lies and all that!" He waved his hands largely."As a definition of fiction it is not very adequate; but I'll admit it."He sat up and bent forward impres-sively. "Well, I'll give you the biggest fee you ever got if you'll invent a story to get me out of this."I suppressed my mirth with difficulty. "Nothing doing," I said, firmly. "Tell-ing lies tor a living is one thing, but swearing to them te another. Much as I love you, Mendax, I do draw theline."He stood up and paced the room like a restless animal. I walked over to the bench on which the jar stood, and looked into the tangled garden. Sud-denly my eye fell on a small, freshly torn splinter on the window-frame, and enlightenment came to me."Mendax," I said. "You are convinced that that squalling horror is syn-thetic?" "Nothing ran alter my conviction,"he said."What will you pay to get it off yourhands?"There was a dawn of hope in his eyes. "You think you can manage it?" he shouted, almost.I nodded. "Then," he broke out, "any thing— £5,000, or go to £10,000 if youlike.""I think I can fix it for less. Will you leave it absolutely to me?"He nodded his acquiescence, and I turned and left the room.THE clatter of crockery guidedme to Mrs. Verjuice in her gloomy kitchen. She met my entrance with a swift glance ofsuspicion. In a basket beneath the window the synthetic infant lay asleep.I looked at it long and carefully. Slumber added little to its beauty. I looked from Mrs. Verjuice to the basket and back again, and I was prepared to swear that there was Verjuice blood and not chemicals in its veins. The look of suspicion flashed back to her face again. '"Ere!" she said, sourly, "you get outter my kitchen."For answer I sat on the table and smiled at her ingratiatingly. "Sup-pose," I said, looking carefully at my finger-nails, "someone was given, say, £500 and 10/ a week until it is 21 years old, and then, say, another £500. Do you know of anyone who would adopt that child and register it as her own?"I heard her give a short gasp."Someone forced the laboratory win-dow recently," I added casually.There was another gasp."No questions asked on either side," I went on, and besides, he deserves it:"" 'E do that," she chuckled. Then, after a pause, "Wot about £1,000 down and a quid a week?" she ventured.I would not haggle. Mendax could af-ford it, and I did not love him over much. "Will you get it away to-night?"She nodded."Very good," I said, "you'll trust me to fix up about the money?""You, but not 'im," she replied em-phatically. Our eyes met, and we both laughed. "Tell me," I asked. "Between ourselves. How did you know what he was at?"She looked round and lowered hervoice."I 'eard 'im talkin' to that German bloke one day. The winder was open.""Whose?" I glanced down at thebasket."Me granddaughter's," she grinned. "Most providential it were, too. I knew he was comin' back that night, so I slipped over an' got through the win-dow. I emptied a lot o* muck out of the jar and stood by to shove the kid in when I 'eard 'im comin.' Got dashed near froze, too."A few minutes later I was telling Mendax that Mrs. Verjuice had agreed to get a friend to adopt it. "I want two cheques for £ 1,000 each, one open. There'll be a few pounds for legal ex-penses, too," I added."Best money I ever spent," he said as he passed me two cheques before Ileft."I don't think I'd go on with those experiments if I were you, Mendax," I said as we strolled down the drive."Do you take me for a blithered fool?" he asked with a return to his own self."Perhaps, and perhaps not," was my cryptic reply as I left him.
