Administration was expecting Mr. Franklin, and had made all the necessary arrangements for him. He had been placed in a kind of privileged limbo, one stage below the permanent staff like Burley, but several stages above the ordinary trainees under instruction. Surprisingly, he had a room of his own — something that even senior members of the bureau could not always expect when they visited the island. This was a great relief to Don, who had been afraid he might have to share quarters with his mysterious charge. Quite apart from any other factors, that would have interfered badly with certain romantic plans of his own.
He saw Franklin to his small but attractive room on the second floor of the training wing, looking out across the miles of coral which stretched eastward all the way to the horizon. In the courtyard below, a group of trainees, relaxing between classes, was chatting with a second warden instructor whom Don recognized from earlier visits but could not name. It was a pleasant feeling, he mused, going back to school when you already knew all the answers.
“You should be comfortable here,” he said to Franklin, who was busy unpacking his baggage. “Quite a view, isn’t it?”
Such poetic ecstasies were normally foreign to Don’s nature, but he could not resist the temptation of seeing how Franklin would react to the leagues of coral-dappled ocean that lay before him. Rather to his disappointment, the reaction was quite conventional; presumably Franklin was not worried by a mere thirty feet of height. He looked out of the window, taking his time and obviously admiring the vista of blues and greens which led the eye out into the endless waters of the Pacific.
Serve you right, Don told himself — it’s not fair to tease the poor devil. Whatever he’s got, it can’t be fun to live with.
“I’ll leave you to get settled in,” said Don, backing out through the door. “Lunch will be coming up in half an hour over at the mess — that building we passed on the way in. See you there.”
Franklin nodded absently as he sorted through his belongings and piled shirts and underclothes on the bed. He wanted to be left alone while he adjusted himself to the new life which, with no particular enthusiasm, he had now accepted as his own.
Burley had been gone for less than ten minutes when there was a knock on the door and a quiet voice said, “Can I come in?”
“Who’s there?” asked Franklin, as he tidied up the debris and made his room look presentable.
“Dr. Myers.”
The name meant nothing to Franklin, but his face twisted into a wry smile as he thought how appropriate it was that his very first visitor should be a doctor. What kind of a doctor, he thought he could guess.
Myers was a stocky, pleasantly ugly man in his early forties, with a disconcertingly direct gaze which seemed somewhat at variance with his friendly, affable manner.
“Sorry to butt in on you when you’ve only just arrived,” he said apologetically. “I had to do it now because I’m flying out to New Caledonia this afternoon and won’t be back for a week. Professor Stevens asked me to look you up and give you his best wishes. If there’s anything you want, just ring my office and we’ll try to fix it for you.”
Franklin admired the skillful way in which Myers had avoided all the obvious dangers. He did not say — true though it undoubtedly was — ‘I’ve discussed your case with Professor Stevens.” Nor did he offer direct help; he managed to convey the assumption that Franklin wouldn’t need it and was now quite capable of looking after himself.
“I appreciate that,” said Franklin sincerely. He felt he was going to like Dr. Myers, and made up his mind not to resent the surveillance he would undoubtedly be getting. “Tell me,” he added, “just what do the people here know about me?”
“Nothing at all, except that you are to be helped to qualify as a warden as quickly as possible. This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened, you know — there have been high-pressure conversion courses before. Still, it’s inevitable that there will be a good deal of curiosity about you; that may be your biggest problem.”
“Burley is dying of curiosity already.”
“Mind if I give you some advice?”
“Of course not — go ahead.”
“You’ll be working with Don continually. It’s only fair to him, as well as to yourself, to confide in him when you feel you can do so. I’m sure you’ll find him quite understanding. Or if you prefer, I’ll do the explaining.”
Franklin shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. It was not a matter of logic, for he knew that Myers was talking sense. Sooner or later it would all have to come out, and he might be making matters worse by postponing the inevitable. Yet his hold upon sanity and self-respect was still so precarious that he could not face the prospect of working with men who knew his secret, however sympathetic they might be.
“Very well. The choice is yours and we’ll respect it. Good luck — and let’s hope all our contacts will be purely social.”
Long after Myers had gone, Franklin sat on the edge of the bed, staring out across the sea which would be his new domain. He would need the luck that the other had wished him, yet he was beginning to feel a renewed interest in life. It was not merely that people were anxious to help him; he had received more than enough help in the last few months. At last he was beginning to see how he could help himself, and so discover a purpose for his existence.
Presently he jolted himself out of his daydream and looked at his watch. He was already ten minutes late for lunch, and that was a bad start for his new life. He thought of Don Burley waiting impatiently in the mess and wondering what had happened to him.
“Coming, teacher,” he said, as he put on his jacket and started out of the room. It was the first time he had made a joke with himself for longer than he could remember.
CHAPTER III
When Franklin first saw Indra Langenburg she was covered with blood up to her elbows and was busily hacking away at the entrails of a ten-foot tiger shark she had just disemboweled. The huge beast was lying, its pale belly upturned to the Sun, on the sandy beach where Franklin took his morning promenade. A thick chain still led to the hook in its mouth; it had obviously been caught during the night and then left behind by the falling tide.
Franklin stood for a moment looking at the unusual combination of attractive girl and dead monster, then said thoughtfully: “You know, this is not the sort of thing I like to see before breakfast. Exactly what are you doing?”
A brown, oval face with very serious eyes looked up at him. The foot-long, razor-sharp knife that was creating such havoc continued to slice expertly through gristle and guts.
“I’m writing a thesis,” said a voice as serious as the eyes, “on the vitamin content of shark liver. It means catching a lot of sharks; this is my third this week. Would you like some teeth? I’ve got plenty, and they make nice souvenirs.”
She walked to the head of the beast and inserted her knife in its gaping jaws, which had been propped apart by a block of wood. A quick jerk of her wrist, and an endless necklace of deadly ivory triangles, like a band saw made of bone, started to emerge from the shark’s mouth.
“No thanks,” said Franklin hastily, hoping she would not be offended. “Please don’t let me interrupt your work.”
He guessed that she was barely twenty, and was not surprised at meeting an unfamiliar girl on the little island, because the scientists at the Research Station did not have much contact with the administrative and training staff.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” said the bloodstained biologist, sloshing a huge lump of liver into a bucket with every sign of satisfaction. “I didn’t see you at the last HQ dance.”
Franklin felt quite cheered by the inquiry. It was so pleasant to meet someone who knew nothing about him, and had not been speculating about his presence here. He felt he could talk freely and without restraint for the first time since landing on Heron Island.