Shadow 043 - The Crime Clinic 12-01-33, The by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street and Smith
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SARBORN approached the bird. He reached up and scratched the macaw’s head. The big bird began to ruffle its throat feathers and open its bill, but no sound came. Sarborn continued the treatment. He nodded to Melken, and motioned him toward the door.

“Bustle up toward the bird,” he ordered. “Make out that you are threatening it. Stop short, though, before you arrive too close.”

The macaw was watching Melken as it moved its bill. The young man followed Sarborn’s instructions. As he made a fierce advance, a shrill warning came from the scarlet macaw.

“Keep away! Keep away!”

Melken stopped suddenly as he heard the high falsetto cry. Sarborn, still scratching the macaw’s head, laughed at his friend’s surprise. He gave another order.

“Be more affable,” he said. “Then stroll away and pretend that you are going out the door.”

Melken followed instructions. As he hesitated at the door, another call came from the macaw’s trembling beak.

“Come back!” shrilled the bird. “Come back!”

“Remarkable!” exclaimed Melken, as the cry died. “The bird seems to have almost human intelligence.”

“It is observant,” admitted Sarborn. “More than that, it has an aptitude for remembering things that it hears. It only chooses words that appeal to it, however. Try some.”

“New York,” suggested Melken.

“Repeat it,” ordered Sarborn. “Emphasize the name.”

“New York - New York -“

“New York!” screamed the macaw. “New York!”

Melken laughed. Sarborn ceased stroking the bird’s head. The macaw kept ruffling its throat, but gave no further cry. Melken approached, scratched the bird’s head; there was no response.

“It will only take its cues from me,” explained Sarborn. “Speaking of birds - here are some interesting eggs. I brought a small collection with me from South America.”

Sarborn pointed to a glass case in the corner. There, Melken saw a variety of eggs of different sizes. He remarked upon a large, blotched egg that was about three inches in length.

“What species of egg is that?” he questioned.

“A condor’s egg,” replied Sarborn. “The condor is one of the largest of all birds. They can fly to greater altitudes than the eagle.”

“It must be difficult obtain their eggs.”

“No. They have no marked nesting habits. The eggs are found upon rocks, in the mountains. Such eggs are not particularly rare.”

A slight sound came from a covered box in the corner. Melken looked in that direction. Sarborn reached over and raised the lid of the box. A small monkey poked its head into view.

“Are you raising monkeys, too?” laughed Melken, as he saw the little creature scramble up to Sarborn’s arms.

“No,” replied Sarborn. “I started to, but gave it up. I’m going to get rid of this little beast later on. Affectionate, but a nuisance. Just a common species. South American monkey. Called a sapajou.”

The monkey had seized Sarborn’s necktie. It was starting to climb up it, hand over hand. Sarborn wrested the sapajou free, and dropped it back into the box. He closed the lid and strolled back to the living room.

“Well,” he remarked, “you’ve seen the menagerie. Wouldn’t do at the Ritz. Better here. Guess I’ll get rid of the whole shebang.

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