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diff --git a/14471-h/14471-h.htm b/14471-h/14471-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..713bd4d --- /dev/null +++ b/14471-h/14471-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12081 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + + <head> + + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Empty House, by Algernon Blackwood. + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + div.centre {text-align: center;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14471 ***</div> + +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE EMPTY HOUSE</h1> + +<h2> +AND OTHER GHOST STORIES +</h2> + + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ALGERNON BLACKWOOD</h2> + +<h3> +AUTHOR OF "JOHN SILENCE" "THE LOST VALLEY" ETC. +</h3> + +<hr /> + +<p style="text-align: center;"> +LONDON<br /> +EVELEIGH NASH COMPANY<br /> +LIMITED<br /> +1916 +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="centre"> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td><i>First Printed</i></td> <td><i>1906</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Uniform Edition</i></td> <td><i>1915</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Reprinted</i></td> <td><i>1916</i></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="contents" id="contents">CONTENTS</a></h2> + +<div class="centre"> +<table cellspacing="5" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter1">THE EMPTY HOUSE</a></td> +<td align="right">1</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter2">A HAUNTED ISLAND</a></td> +<td align="right">32</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter3">A CASE OF EAVESDROPPING</a></td> +<td align="right">63</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter4">KEEPING HIS PROMISE</a></td> +<td align="right">91</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter5">WITH INTENT TO STEAL</a></td> +<td align="right">119</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter6">THE WOOD OF THE DEAD</a></td> +<td align="right">161</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter7">SMITH: AN EPISODE IN A LODGING-HOUSE</a></td> +<td align="right">186</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter8">A SUSPICIOUS GIFT</a></td> +<td align="right">218</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter9">THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PRIVATE SECRETARY IN NEW YORK</a></td> +<td align="right">239</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chapter10">SKELETON LAKE: AN EPISODE IN CAMP</a></td> +<td align="right">301</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> +<a name="page1" id="page1"></a> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter1" id="chapter1">THE EMPTY HOUSE</a></h2> + + +<p> +Certain houses, like certain persons, manage +somehow to proclaim at once their character for +evil. In the case of the latter, no particular +feature need betray them; they may boast an +open countenance and an ingenuous smile; and +yet a little of their company leaves the unalterable +conviction that there is something radically amiss +with their being: that they are evil. Willy nilly, +they seem to communicate an atmosphere of secret +and wicked thoughts which makes those in their +immediate neighbourhood shrink from them as +from a thing diseased. +</p> + +<p> +And, perhaps, with houses the same principle +is operative, and it is the aroma of evil deeds +committed under a particular roof, long after the +actual doers have passed away, that makes the +gooseflesh come and the hair rise. Something of +the original passion of the evil-doer, and of the +horror felt by his victim, enters the heart of +the innocent watcher, and he becomes suddenly +<a name="page2" id="page2"></a> +conscious of tingling nerves, creeping skin, and a +chilling of the blood. He is terror-stricken without +apparent cause. +</p> + +<p> +There was manifestly nothing in the external +appearance of this particular house to bear out +the tales of the horror that was said to reign +within. It was neither lonely nor unkempt. It +stood, crowded into a corner of the square, and +looked exactly like the houses on either side of +it. It had the same number of windows as its +neighbours; the same balcony overlooking the +gardens; the same white steps leading up to the +heavy black front door; and, in the rear, there +was the same narrow strip of green, with neat +box borders, running up to the wall that divided +it from the backs of the adjoining houses. +Apparently, too, the number of chimney pots on +the roof was the same; the breadth and angle of +the eaves; and even the height of the dirty area +railings. +</p> + +<p> +And yet this house in the square, that seemed +precisely similar to its fifty ugly neighbours, was +as a matter of fact entirely different—horribly +different. +</p> + +<p> +Wherein lay this marked, invisible difference +is impossible to say. It cannot be ascribed wholly +<a name="page3" id="page3"></a> +to the imagination, because persons who had spent +some time in the house, knowing nothing of the +facts, had declared positively that certain rooms +were so disagreeable they would rather die than +enter them again, and that the atmosphere of +the whole house produced in them symptoms of +a genuine terror; while the series of innocent +tenants who had tried to live in it and been +forced to decamp at the shortest possible notice, +was indeed little less than a scandal in the +town. +</p> + +<p> +When Shorthouse arrived to pay a "week-end" +visit to his Aunt Julia in her little house on +the sea-front at the other end of the town, he +found her charged to the brim with mystery and +excitement. He had only received her telegram +that morning, and he had come anticipating boredom; +but the moment he touched her hand and +kissed her apple-skin wrinkled cheek, he caught +the first wave of her electrical condition. The +impression deepened when he learned that +there were to be no other visitors, and that he +had been telegraphed for with a very special +object. +</p> + +<p> +Something was in the wind, and the "something" +would doubtless bear fruit; for this elderly spinster +<a name="page4" id="page4"></a> +aunt, with a mania for psychical research, had brains +as well as will power, and by hook or by crook +she usually managed to accomplish her ends. The +revelation was made soon after tea, when she +sidled close up to him as they paced slowly along +the sea-front in the dusk. +</p> + +<p> +"I've got the keys," she announced in a delighted, +yet half awesome voice. "Got them till +Monday!" +</p> + +<p> +"The keys of the bathing-machine, or—?" +he asked innocently, looking from the sea to the +town. Nothing brought her so quickly to the +point as feigning stupidity. +</p> + +<p> +"Neither," she whispered. "I've got the keys +of the haunted house in the square—and I'm +going there to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was conscious of the slightest +possible tremor down his back. He dropped his +teasing tone. Something in her voice and manner +thrilled him. She was in earnest. +</p> + +<p> +"But you can't go alone—" he began. +</p> + +<p> +"That's why I wired for you," she said with +decision. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to look at her. The ugly, lined, +enigmatical face was alive with excitement. There +was the glow of genuine enthusiasm round it +<a name="page5" id="page5"></a> +like a halo. The eyes shone. He caught another +wave of her excitement, and a second tremor, more +marked than the first, accompanied it. +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks, Aunt Julia," he said politely; "thanks +awfully." +</p> + +<p> +"I should not dare to go quite alone," she went +on, raising her voice; "but with you I should enjoy +it immensely. You're afraid of nothing, I know." +</p> + +<p> +"Thanks <i>so</i> much," he said again. "Er—is +anything likely to happen?" +</p> + +<p> +"A great deal <i>has</i> happened," she whispered, +"though it's been most cleverly hushed up. Three +tenants have come and gone in the last few +months, and the house is said to be empty for +good now." +</p> + +<p> +In spite of himself Shorthouse became interested. +His aunt was so very much in earnest. +</p> + +<p> +"The house is very old indeed," she went on, +"and the story—an unpleasant one—dates a long +way back. It has to do with a murder committed +by a jealous stableman who had some affair with +a servant in the house. One night he managed +to secrete himself in the cellar, and when everyone +was asleep, he crept upstairs to the servants' +quarters, chased the girl down to the next landing, +and before anyone could come to the rescue +<a name="page6" id="page6"></a> +threw her bodily over the banisters into the +hall below." +</p> + +<p> +"And the stableman—?" +</p> + +<p> +"Was caught, I believe, and hanged for murder; +but it all happened a century ago, and I've not +been able to get more details of the story." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse now felt his interest thoroughly +aroused; but, though he was not particularly +nervous for himself, he hesitated a little on his +aunt's account. +</p> + +<p> +"On one condition," he said at length. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing will prevent my going," she said +firmly; "but I may as well hear your condition." +</p> + +<p> +"That you guarantee your power of self-control +if anything really horrible happens. I mean—that +you are sure you won't get too frightened." +</p> + +<p> +"Jim," she said scornfully, "I'm not young, I +know, nor are my nerves; but <i>with you</i> I should +be afraid of nothing in the world!" +</p> + +<p> +This, of course, settled it, for Shorthouse had no +pretensions to being other than a very ordinary +young man, and an appeal to his vanity was +irresistible. He agreed to go. +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively, by a sort of sub-conscious preparation, +he kept himself and his forces well in +hand the whole evening, compelling an accumulative +<a name="page7" id="page7"></a> +reserve of control by that nameless inward +process of gradually putting all the emotions away +and turning the key upon them—a process +difficult to describe, but wonderfully effective, as +all men who have lived through severe trials of the +inner man well understand. Later, it stood him +in good stead. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not until half-past ten, when they +stood in the hall, well in the glare of friendly +lamps and still surrounded by comforting human +influences, that he had to make the first call upon +this store of collected strength. For, once the +door was closed, and he saw the deserted silent +street stretching away white in the moonlight +before them, it came to him clearly that the real +test that night would be in dealing with <i>two fears</i> +instead of one. He would have to carry his aunt's +fear as well as his own. And, as he glanced down +at her sphinx-like countenance and realised that it +might assume no pleasant aspect in a rush of real +terror, he felt satisfied with only one thing in the +whole adventure—that he had confidence in his +own will and power to stand against any shock +that might come. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly they walked along the empty streets of +the town; a bright autumn moon silvered the roofs, +<a name="page8" id="page8"></a> +casting deep shadows; there was no breath of +wind; and the trees in the formal gardens by the +sea-front watched them silently as they passed +along. To his aunt's occasional remarks Shorthouse +made no reply, realising that she was simply surrounding +herself with mental buffers—saying +ordinary things to prevent herself thinking of +extra-ordinary things. Few windows showed +lights, and from scarcely a single chimney came +smoke or sparks. Shorthouse had already begun +to notice everything, even the smallest details. +Presently they stopped at the street corner and +looked up at the name on the side of the house +full in the moonlight, and with one accord, but +without remark, turned into the square and crossed +over to the side of it that lay in shadow. +</p> + +<p> +"The number of the house is thirteen," whispered +a voice at his side; and neither of them made the +obvious reference, but passed across the broad sheet +of moonlight and began to march up the pavement +in silence. +</p> + +<p> +It was about half-way up the square that +Shorthouse felt an arm slipped quietly but significantly +into his own, and knew then that their +adventure had begun in earnest, and that his +companion was already yielding imperceptibly +<a name="page9" id="page9"></a> +to the influences against them. She needed +support. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later they stopped before a tall, +narrow house that rose before them into the night, +ugly in shape and painted a dingy white. Shutterless +windows, without blinds, stared down upon +them, shining here and there in the moonlight. +There were weather streaks in the wall and cracks +in the paint, and the balcony bulged out from the +first floor a little unnaturally. But, beyond this +generally forlorn appearance of an unoccupied house, +there was nothing at first sight to single out this +particular mansion for the evil character it had +most certainly acquired. +</p> + +<p> +Taking a look over their shoulders to make sure +they had not been followed, they went boldly up +the steps and stood against the huge black door +that fronted them forbiddingly. But the first +wave of nervousness was now upon them, and +Shorthouse fumbled a long time with the key +before he could fit it into the lock at all. For a +moment, if truth were told, they both hoped it +would not open, for they were a prey to various +unpleasant emotions as they stood there on the +threshold of their ghostly adventure. Shorthouse, +shuffling with the key and hampered by the +<a name="page10" id="page10"></a> +steady weight on his arm, certainly felt the +solemnity of the moment. It was as if the whole +world—for all experience seemed at that instant +concentrated in his own consciousness—were +listening to the grating noise of that key. A stray +puff of wind wandering down the empty street +woke a momentary rustling in the trees behind +them, but otherwise this rattling of the key +was the only sound audible; and at last it +turned in the lock and the heavy door swung +open and revealed a yawning gulf of darkness +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +With a last glance at the moonlit square, they +passed quickly in, and the door slammed behind +them with a roar that echoed prodigiously through +empty halls and passages. But, instantly, with +the echoes, another sound made itself heard, and +Aunt Julia leaned suddenly so heavily upon him +that he had to take a step backwards to save +himself from falling. +</p> + +<p> +A man had coughed close beside them—so close +that it seemed they must have been actually by +his side in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +With the possibility of practical jokes in his +mind, Shorthouse at once swung his heavy stick in +the direction of the sound; but it met nothing +<a name="page11" id="page11"></a> +more solid than air. He heard his aunt give a +little gasp beside him. +</p> + +<p> +"There's someone here," she whispered; "I heard +him." +</p> + +<p> +"Be quiet!" he said sternly. "It was nothing +but the noise of the front door." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! get a light—quick!" she added, as her +nephew, fumbling with a box of matches, opened +it upside down and let them all fall with a rattle +on to the stone floor. +</p> + +<p> +The sound, however, was not repeated; and there +was no evidence of retreating footsteps. In another +minute they had a candle burning, using an empty +end of a cigar case as a holder; and when the first +flare had died down he held the impromptu lamp +aloft and surveyed the scene. And it was dreary +enough in all conscience, for there is nothing more +desolate in all the abodes of men than an unfurnished +house dimly lit, silent, and forsaken, and +yet tenanted by rumour with the memories of evil +and violent histories. +</p> + +<p> +They were standing in a wide hall-way; on their +left was the open door of a spacious dining-room, +and in front the hall ran, ever narrowing, into a +long, dark passage that led apparently to the top of +the kitchen stairs. The broad uncarpeted staircase +<a name="page12" id="page12"></a> +rose in a sweep before them, everywhere draped in +shadows, except for a single spot about half-way up +where the moonlight came in through the window +and fell on a bright patch on the boards. This +shaft of light shed a faint radiance above and below +it, lending to the objects within its reach a misty +outline that was infinitely more suggestive and +ghostly than complete darkness. Filtered moonlight +always seems to paint faces on the surrounding +gloom, and as Shorthouse peered up into the well of +darkness and thought of the countless empty rooms +and passages in the upper part of the old house, he +caught himself longing again for the safety of the +moonlit square, or the cosy, bright drawing-room +they had left an hour before. Then realising that +these thoughts were dangerous, he thrust them +away again and summoned all his energy for +concentration on the present. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Julia," he said aloud, severely, "we must +now go through the house from top to bottom and +make a thorough search." +</p> + +<p> +The echoes of his voice died away slowly all +over the building, and in the intense silence that +followed he turned to look at her. In the candle-light +he saw that her face was already ghastly +pale; but she dropped his arm for a moment and +<a name="page13" id="page13"></a> +said in a whisper, stepping close in front of +him— +</p> + +<p> +"I agree. We must be sure there's no one hiding. +That's the first thing." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke with evident effort, and he looked at +her with admiration. +</p> + +<p> +"You feel quite sure of yourself? It's not too +late—" +</p> + +<p> +"I think so," she whispered, her eyes shifting +nervously toward the shadows behind. "Quite +sure, only one thing—" +</p> + +<p> +"What's that?" +</p> + +<p> +"You must never leave me alone for an instant." +</p> + +<p> +"As long as you understand that any sound or +appearance must be investigated at once, for to +hesitate means to admit fear. That is fatal." +</p> + +<p> +"Agreed," she said, a little shakily, after a +moment's hesitation. "I'll try—" +</p> + +<p> +Arm in arm, Shorthouse holding the dripping +candle and the stick, while his aunt carried the +cloak over her shoulders, figures of utter comedy to +all but themselves, they began a systematic search. +</p> + +<p> +Stealthily, walking on tip-toe and shading the +candle lest it should betray their presence through +the shutterless windows, they went first into the big +dining-room. There was not a stick of furniture to +<a name="page14" id="page14"></a> +be seen. Bare walls, ugly mantel-pieces and empty +grates stared at them. Everything, they felt, +resented their intrusion, watching them, as it were, +with veiled eyes; whispers followed them; shadows +flitted noiselessly to right and left; something +seemed ever at their back, watching, waiting an +opportunity to do them injury. There was the +inevitable sense that operations which went on +when the room was empty had been temporarily +suspended till they were well out of the way again. +The whole dark interior of the old building seemed +to become a malignant Presence that rose up, +warning them to desist and mind their own +business; every moment the strain on the nerves +increased. +</p> + +<p> +Out of the gloomy dining-room they passed +through large folding doors into a sort of library or +smoking-room, wrapt equally in silence, darkness, +and dust; and from this they regained the hall +near the top of the back stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Here a pitch black tunnel opened before them +into the lower regions, and—it must be confessed—they +hesitated. But only for a minute. With the +worst of the night still to come it was essential to +turn from nothing. Aunt Julia stumbled at the +top step of the dark descent, ill lit by the flickering +<a name="page15" id="page15"></a> +candle, and even Shorthouse felt at least half the +decision go out of his legs. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on!" he said peremptorily, and his voice +ran on and lost itself in the dark, empty spaces +below. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm coming," she faltered, catching his arm with +unnecessary violence. +</p> + +<p> +They went a little unsteadily down the stone +steps, a cold, damp air meeting them in the face, +close and mal-odorous. The kitchen, into which +the stairs led along a narrow passage, was large, +with a lofty ceiling. Several doors opened out of +it—some into cupboards with empty jars still standing +on the shelves, and others into horrible little +ghostly back offices, each colder and less inviting +than the last. Black beetles scurried over the floor, +and once, when they knocked against a deal table +standing in a corner, something about the size of a +cat jumped down with a rush and fled, scampering +across the stone floor into the darkness. Everywhere +there was a sense of recent occupation, an +impression of sadness and gloom. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the main kitchen, they next went +towards the scullery. The door was standing ajar, +and as they pushed it open to its full extent Aunt +Julia uttered a piercing scream, which she instantly +<a name="page16" id="page16"></a> +tried to stifle by placing her hand over her mouth. +For a second Shorthouse stood stock-still, catching +his breath. He felt as if his spine had suddenly +become hollow and someone had filled it with +particles of ice. +</p> + +<p> +Facing them, directly in their way between the +doorposts, stood the figure of a woman. She had +dishevelled hair and wildly staring eyes, and her +face was terrified and white as death. +</p> + +<p> +She stood there motionless for the space of a +single second. Then the candle flickered and she +was gone—gone utterly—and the door framed +nothing but empty darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"Only the beastly jumping candle-light," he +said quickly, in a voice that sounded like someone +else's and was only half under control. "Come on, +aunt. There's nothing there." +</p> + +<p> +He dragged her forward. With a clattering of feet +and a great appearance of boldness they went on, but +over his body the skin moved as if crawling ants +covered it, and he knew by the weight on his arm +that he was supplying the force of locomotion for +two. The scullery was cold, bare, and empty; more +like a large prison cell than anything else. They +went round it, tried the door into the yard, and +the windows, but found them all fastened securely. +<a name="page17" id="page17"></a> +His aunt moved beside him like a person in a +dream. Her eyes were tightly shut, and she +seemed merely to follow the pressure of his arm. +Her courage filled him with amazement. At the +same time he noticed that a certain odd change +had come over her face, a change which somehow +evaded his power of analysis. +</p> + +<p> +"There's nothing here, aunty," he repeated +aloud quickly. "Let's go upstairs and see the rest +of the house. Then we'll choose a room to wait +up in." +</p> + +<p> +She followed him obediently, keeping close to his +side, and they locked the kitchen door behind them. +It was a relief to get up again. In the hall there was +more light than before, for the moon had travelled +a little further down the stairs. Cautiously they +began to go up into the dark vault of the upper +house, the boards creaking under their weight. +</p> + +<p> +On the first floor they found the large double +drawing-rooms, a search of which revealed nothing. +Here also was no sign of furniture or recent +occupancy; nothing but dust and neglect and +shadows. They opened the big folding doors +between front and back drawing-rooms and then +came out again to the landing and went on upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +They had not gone up more than a dozen steps +<a name="page18" id="page18"></a> +when they both simultaneously stopped to listen, +looking into each other's eyes with a new apprehension +across the flickering candle flame. From the +room they had left hardly ten seconds before came +the sound of doors quietly closing. It was beyond +all question; they heard the booming noise that +accompanies the shutting of heavy doors, followed +by the sharp catching of the latch. +</p> + +<p> +"We must go back and see," said Shorthouse +briefly, in a low tone, and turning to go downstairs +again. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow she managed to drag after him, her +feet catching in her dress, her face livid. +</p> + +<p> +When they entered the front drawing-room it +was plain that the folding doors had been closed—half +a minute before. Without hesitation Shorthouse +opened them. He almost expected to see +someone facing him in the back room; but only +darkness and cold air met him. They went +through both rooms, finding nothing unusual. +They tried in every way to make the doors close +of themselves, but there was not wind enough even +to set the candle flame flickering. The doors +would not move without strong pressure. All was +silent as the grave. Undeniably the rooms were +utterly empty, and the house utterly still. +<a name="page19" id="page19"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"It's beginning," whispered a voice at his elbow +which he hardly recognised as his aunt's. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded acquiescence, taking out his watch +to note the time. It was fifteen minutes before +midnight; he made the entry of exactly what had +occurred in his notebook, setting the candle in its +case upon the floor in order to do so. It took a +moment or two to balance it safely against the +wall. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Julia always declared that at this moment +she was not actually watching him, but had turned +her head towards the inner room, where she fancied +she heard something moving; but, at any rate, both +positively agreed that there came a sound of +rushing feet, heavy and very swift—and the next +instant the candle was out! +</p> + +<p> +But to Shorthouse himself had come more than +this, and he has always thanked his fortunate stars +that it came to him alone and not to his aunt too. +For, as he rose from the stooping position of balancing +the candle, and before it was actually extinguished, +a face thrust itself forward so close to his +own that he could almost have touched it with his +lips. It was a face working with passion; a man's +face, dark, with thick features, and angry, savage +eyes. It belonged to a common man, and it was evil +<a name="page20" id="page20"></a> +in its ordinary normal expression, no doubt, but as +he saw it, alive with intense, aggressive emotion, +it was a malignant and terrible human countenance. +</p> + +<p> +There was no movement of the air; nothing but +the sound of rushing feet—stockinged or muffled +feet; the apparition of the face; and the almost +simultaneous extinguishing of the candle. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of himself, Shorthouse uttered a little +cry, nearly losing his balance as his aunt clung to +him with her whole weight in one moment of real, +uncontrollable terror. She made no sound, but +simply seized him bodily. Fortunately, however, +she had seen nothing, but had only heard the rushing +feet, for her control returned almost at once, and +he was able to disentangle himself and strike a +match. +</p> + +<p> +The shadows ran away on all sides before the +glare, and his aunt stooped down and groped for +the cigar case with the precious candle. Then +they discovered that the candle had not been +<i>blown</i> out at all; it had been <i>crushed</i> out. The +wick was pressed down into the wax, which +was flattened as if by some smooth, heavy instrument. +</p> + +<p> +How his companion so quickly overcame her +<a name="page21" id="page21"></a> +terror, Shorthouse never properly understood; +but his admiration for her self-control increased +tenfold, and at the same time served to feed his +own dying flame—for which he was undeniably +grateful. Equally inexplicable to him was the +evidence of physical force they had just witnessed. +He at once suppressed the memory of stories he +had heard of "physical mediums" and their dangerous +phenomena; for if these were true, and either +his aunt or himself was unwittingly a physical +medium, it meant that they were simply aiding +to focus the forces of a haunted house already +charged to the brim. It was like walking with unprotected +lamps among uncovered stores of gun-powder. +</p> + +<p> +So, with as little reflection as possible, he simply +relit the candle and went up to the next floor. +The arm in his trembled, it is true, and his own +tread was often uncertain, but they went on with +thoroughness, and after a search revealing nothing +they climbed the last flight of stairs to the top floor +of all. +</p> + +<p> +Here they found a perfect nest of small servants' +rooms, with broken pieces of furniture, dirty cane-bottomed +chairs, chests of drawers, cracked mirrors, +and decrepit bedsteads. The rooms had low sloping +<a name="page22" id="page22"></a> +ceilings already hung here and there with cobwebs, +small windows, and badly plastered walls—a +depressing and dismal region which they were glad +to leave behind. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the stroke of midnight when they +entered a small room on the third floor, close to the +top of the stairs, and arranged to make themselves +comfortable for the remainder of their adventure. +It was absolutely bare, and was said to be the +room—then used as a clothes closet—into which +the infuriated groom had chased his victim and +finally caught her. Outside, across the narrow +landing, began the stairs leading up to the floor +above, and the servants' quarters where they had +just searched. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the chilliness of the night there was +something in the air of this room that cried for an +open window. But there was more than this. +Shorthouse could only describe it by saying that +he felt less master of himself here than in any +other part of the house. There was something +that acted directly on the nerves, tiring the resolution, +enfeebling the will. He was conscious of this +result before he had been in the room five minutes, +and it was in the short time they stayed there that +he suffered the wholesale depletion of his vital +<a name="page23" id="page23"></a> +forces, which was, for himself, the chief horror of +the whole experience. +</p> + +<p> +They put the candle on the floor of the cupboard, +leaving the door a few inches ajar, so that there +was no glare to confuse the eyes, and no shadow +to shift about on walls and ceiling. Then they +spread the cloak on the floor and sat down to wait, +with their backs against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was within two feet of the door on +to the landing; his position commanded a good +view of the main staircase leading down into the +darkness, and also of the beginning of the servants' +stairs going to the floor above; the heavy stick lay +beside him within easy reach. +</p> + +<p> +The moon was now high above the house. +Through the open window they could see the +comforting stars like friendly eyes watching in the +sky. One by one the clocks of the town struck +midnight, and when the sounds died away the deep +silence of a windless night fell again over everything. +Only the boom of the sea, far away and +lugubrious, filled the air with hollow murmurs. +</p> + +<p> +Inside the house the silence became awful; +awful, he thought, because any minute now it +might be broken by sounds portending terror. +The strain of waiting told more and more severely +<a name="page24" id="page24"></a> +on the nerves; they talked in whispers when +they talked at all, for their voices aloud sounded +queer and unnatural. A chilliness, not altogether +due to the night air, invaded the room, and made +them cold. The influences against them, whatever +these might be, were slowly robbing them of self-confidence, +and the power of decisive action; their +forces were on the wane, and the possibility of real +fear took on a new and terrible meaning. He +began to tremble for the elderly woman by his side, +whose pluck could hardly save her beyond a certain +extent. +</p> + +<p> +He heard the blood singing in his veins. It +sometimes seemed so loud that he fancied it prevented +his hearing properly certain other sounds +that were beginning very faintly to make themselves +audible in the depths of the house. Every +time he fastened his attention on these sounds, +they instantly ceased. They certainly came no +nearer. Yet he could not rid himself of the idea +that movement was going on somewhere in the +lower regions of the house. The drawing-room +floor, where the doors had been so strangely closed, +seemed too near; the sounds were further off than +that. He thought of the great kitchen, with the +scurrying black-beetles, and of the dismal little +<a name="page25" id="page25"></a> +scullery; but, somehow or other, they did not seem +to come from there either. Surely they were not +<i>outside</i> the house! +</p> + +<p> +Then, suddenly, the truth flashed into his mind, +and for the space of a minute he felt as if his +blood had stopped flowing and turned to ice. +</p> + +<p> +The sounds were not downstairs at all; they +were <i>upstairs</i>—upstairs, somewhere among those +horrid gloomy little servants' rooms with their bits +of broken furniture, low ceilings, and cramped +windows—upstairs where the victim had first been +disturbed and stalked to her death. +</p> + +<p> +And the moment he discovered where the sounds +were, he began to hear them more clearly. It was +the sound of feet, moving stealthily along the +passage overhead, in and out among the rooms, and +past the furniture. +</p> + +<p> +He turned quickly to steal a glance at the motionless +figure seated beside him, to note whether she +had shared his discovery. The faint candle-light +coming through the crack in the cupboard door, +threw her strongly-marked face into vivid relief +against the white of the wall. But it was something +else that made him catch his breath and +stare again. An extraordinary something had +come into her face and seemed to spread over her +<a name="page26" id="page26"></a> +features like a mask; it smoothed out the deep +lines and drew the skin everywhere a little tighter +so that the wrinkles disappeared; it brought into +the face—with the sole exception of the old eyes—an +appearance of youth and almost of childhood. +</p> + +<p> +He stared in speechless amazement—amazement +that was dangerously near to horror. It was his +aunt's face indeed, but it was her face of forty +years ago, the vacant innocent face of a girl. He +had heard stories of that strange effect of terror +which could wipe a human countenance clean of +other emotions, obliterating all previous expressions; +but he had never realised that it could be +literally true, or could mean anything so simply +horrible as what he now saw. For the dreadful +signature of overmastering fear was written plainly +in that utter vacancy of the girlish face beside +him; and when, feeling his intense gaze, she turned +to look at him, he instinctively closed his eyes +tightly to shut out the sight. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, when he turned a minute later, his feelings +well in hand, he saw to his intense relief another +expression; his aunt was smiling, and though the +face was deathly white, the awful veil had lifted +and the normal look was returning. +</p> + +<p> +"Anything wrong?" was all he could think of +<a name="page27" id="page27"></a> +to say at the moment. And the answer was +eloquent, coming from such a woman. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel cold—and a little frightened," she +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +He offered to close the window, but she seized +hold of him and begged him not to leave her side +even for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"It's upstairs, I know," she whispered, with an +odd half laugh; "but I can't possibly go up." +</p> + +<p> +But Shorthouse thought otherwise, knowing +that in action lay their best hope of self-control. +</p> + +<p> +He took the brandy flask and poured out a glass +of neat spirit, stiff enough to help anybody over +anything. She swallowed it with a little shiver. +His only idea now was to get out of the house +before her collapse became inevitable; but this +could not safely be done by turning tail and +running from the enemy. Inaction was no longer +possible; every minute he was growing less master +of himself, and desperate, aggressive measures were +imperative without further delay. Moreover, the +action must be taken <i>towards</i> the enemy, not away +from it; the climax, if necessary and unavoidable, +would have to be faced boldly. He could do it +now; but in ten minutes he might not have the +force left to act for himself, much less for both! +<a name="page28" id="page28"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Upstairs, the sounds were meanwhile becoming +louder and closer, accompanied by occasional +creaking of the boards. Someone was moving +stealthily about, stumbling now and then +awkwardly against the furniture. +</p> + +<p> +Waiting a few moments to allow the tremendous +dose of spirits to produce its effect, and knowing +this would last but a short time under the circumstances, +Shorthouse then quietly got on his feet, +saying in a determined voice— +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Aunt Julia, we'll go upstairs and find out +what all this noise is about. You must come too. +It's what we agreed." +</p> + +<p> +He picked up his stick and went to the cupboard +for the candle. A limp form rose shakily beside him +breathing hard, and he heard a voice say very +faintly something about being "ready to come." The +woman's courage amazed him; it was so much greater +than his own; and, as they advanced, holding aloft +the dripping candle, some subtle force exhaled from +this trembling, white-faced old woman at his side +that was the true source of his inspiration. It held +something really great that shamed him and gave +him the support without which he would have +proved far less equal to the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +They crossed the dark landing, avoiding with +<a name="page29" id="page29"></a> +their eyes the deep black space over the banisters. +Then they began to mount the narrow staircase to +meet the sounds which, minute by minute, grew +louder and nearer. About half-way up the stairs +Aunt Julia stumbled and Shorthouse turned to +catch her by the arm, and just at that moment +there came a terrific crash in the servants' corridor +overhead. It was instantly followed by a shrill, +agonised scream that was a cry of terror and a cry +for help melted into one. +</p> + +<p> +Before they could move aside, or go down a single +step, someone came rushing along the passage +overhead, blundering horribly, racing madly, at full +speed, three steps at a time, down the very staircase +where they stood. The steps were light and +uncertain; but close behind them sounded the +heavier tread of another person, and the staircase +seemed to shake. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse and his companion just had time to +flatten themselves against the wall when the +jumble of flying steps was upon them, and two +persons, with the slightest possible interval between +them, dashed past at full speed. It was a perfect +whirlwind of sound breaking in upon the midnight +silence of the empty building. +</p> + +<p> +The two runners, pursuer and pursued, had +<a name="page30" id="page30"></a> +passed clean through them where they stood, and +already with a thud the boards below had received +first one, then the other. Yet they had seen +absolutely nothing—not a hand, or arm, or face, or +even a shred of flying clothing. +</p> + +<p> +There came a second's pause. Then the first +one, the lighter of the two, obviously the pursued +one, ran with uncertain footsteps into the little +room which Shorthouse and his aunt had just +left. The heavier one followed. There was a +sound of scuffling, gasping, and smothered +screaming; and then out on to the landing came +the step—of a single person <i>treading weightily</i>. +</p> + +<p> +A dead silence followed for the space of half a +minute, and then was heard a rushing sound +through the air. It was followed by a dull, crashing +thud in the depths of the house below—on the +stone floor of the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Utter silence reigned after. Nothing moved. +The flame of the candle was steady. It had been +steady the whole time, and the air had been +undisturbed by any movement whatsoever. Palsied +with terror, Aunt Julia, without waiting for her +companion, began fumbling her way downstairs; +she was crying gently to herself, and when Shorthouse +put his arm round her and half carried her +<a name="page31" id="page31"></a> +he felt that she was trembling like a leaf. He +went into the little room and picked up the cloak +from the floor, and, arm in arm, walking very +slowly, without speaking a word or looking once +behind them, they marched down the three flights +into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +In the hall they saw nothing, but the whole way +down the stairs they were conscious that someone +followed them; step by step; when they went +faster IT was left behind, and when they went +more slowly IT caught them up. But never once +did they look behind to see; and at each turning +of the staircase they lowered their eyes for fear of +the following horror they might see upon the +stairs above. +</p> + +<p> +With trembling hands Shorthouse opened the +front door, and they walked out into the moonlight +and drew a deep breath of the cool night air blowing +in from the sea. +<a name="page32" id="page32"></a> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter2" id="chapter2">A HAUNTED ISLAND</a></h2> + + +<p> +The following events occurred on a small island +of isolated position in a large Canadian lake, to +whose cool waters the inhabitants of Montreal +and Toronto flee for rest and recreation in the +hot months. It is only to be regretted that +events of such peculiar interest to the genuine +student of the psychical should be entirely uncorroborated. +Such unfortunately, however, is the +case. +</p> + +<p> +Our own party of nearly twenty had returned +to Montreal that very day, and I was left in +solitary possession for a week or two longer, in +order to accomplish some important "reading" +for the law which I had foolishly neglected during +the summer. +</p> + +<p> +It was late in September, and the big trout and +maskinonge were stirring themselves in the depths +of the lake, and beginning slowly to move up to +the surface waters as the north winds and early +frosts lowered their temperature. Already the +<a name="page33" id="page33"></a> +maples were crimson and gold, and the wild +laughter of the loons echoed in sheltered bays that +never knew their strange cry in the summer. +</p> + +<p> +With a whole island to oneself, a two-storey +cottage, a canoe, and only the chipmunks, and the +farmer's weekly visit with eggs and bread, to +disturb one, the opportunities for hard reading +might be very great. It all depends! +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the party had gone off with many +warnings to beware of Indians, and not to stay +late enough to be the victim of a frost that thinks +nothing of forty below zero. After they had gone, +the loneliness of the situation made itself unpleasantly +felt. There were no other islands within +six or seven miles, and though the mainland forests +lay a couple of miles behind me, they stretched +for a very great distance unbroken by any signs +of human habitation. But, though the island was +completely deserted and silent, the rocks and trees +that had echoed human laughter and voices almost +every hour of the day for two months could not +fail to retain some memories of it all; and I was +not surprised to fancy I heard a shout or a cry as +I passed from rock to rock, and more than once to +imagine that I heard my own name called aloud. +</p> + +<p> +In the cottage there were six tiny little bedrooms +<a name="page34" id="page34"></a> +divided from one another by plain unvarnished +partitions of pine. A wooden bedstead, +a mattress, and a chair, stood in each room, but I +only found two mirrors, and one of these was +broken. +</p> + +<p> +The boards creaked a good deal as I moved +about, and the signs of occupation were so recent +that I could hardly believe I was alone. I half +expected to find someone left behind, still trying +to crowd into a box more than it would hold. +The door of one room was stiff, and refused for +a moment to open, and it required very little +persuasion to imagine someone was holding the +handle on the inside, and that when it opened I +should meet a pair of human eyes. +</p> + +<p> +A thorough search of the floor led me to select +as my own sleeping quarters a little room with a +diminutive balcony over the verandah roof. The +room was very small, but the bed was large, and +had the best mattress of them all. It was situated +directly over the sitting-room where I should live +and do my "reading," and the miniature window +looked out to the rising sun. With the exception +of a narrow path which led from the front door +and verandah through the trees to the boat-landing, +the island was densely covered with +<a name="page35" id="page35"></a> +maples, hemlocks, and cedars. The trees gathered +in round the cottage so closely that the slightest +wind made the branches scrape the roof and tap +the wooden walls. A few moments after sunset +the darkness became impenetrable, and ten yards +beyond the glare of the lamps that shone through +the sitting-room windows—of which there were +four—you could not see an inch before your nose, +nor move a step without running up against a +tree. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of that day I spent moving my belongings +from my tent to the sitting-room, taking +stock of the contents of the larder, and chopping +enough wood for the stove to last me for a week. +After that, just before sunset, I went round the +island a couple of times in my canoe for precaution's +sake. I had never dreamed of doing this +before, but when a man is alone he does things that +never occur to him when he is one of a large +party. +</p> + +<p> +How lonely the island seemed when I landed +again! The sun was down, and twilight is unknown +in these northern regions. The darkness comes up +at once. The canoe safely pulled up and turned +over on her face, I groped my way up the little +narrow pathway to the verandah. The six lamps +<a name="page36" id="page36"></a> +were soon burning merrily in the front room; but +in the kitchen, where I "dined," the shadows were +so gloomy, and the lamplight was so inadequate, +that the stars could be seen peeping through the +cracks between the rafters. +</p> + +<p> +I turned in early that night. Though it was +calm and there was no wind, the creaking of my +bedstead and the musical gurgle of the water over +the rocks below were not the only sounds that +reached my ears. As I lay awake, the appalling +emptiness of the house grew upon me. The +corridors and vacant rooms seemed to echo +innumerable footsteps, shufflings, the rustle of +skirts, and a constant undertone of whispering. +When sleep at length overtook me, the breathings +and noises, however, passed gently to mingle with +the voices of my dreams. +</p> + +<p> +A week passed by, and the "reading" progressed +favourably. On the tenth day of my solitude, a +strange thing happened. I awoke after a good +night's sleep to find myself possessed with a +marked repugnance for my room. The air seemed +to stifle me. The more I tried to define the cause +of this dislike, the more unreasonable it appeared. +There was something about the room that made me +afraid. Absurd as it seems, this feeling clung to +<a name="page37" id="page37"></a> +me obstinately while dressing, and more than once +I caught myself shivering, and conscious of an +inclination to get out of the room as quickly as +possible. The more I tried to laugh it away, the +more real it became; and when at last I was +dressed, and went out into the passage, and downstairs +into the kitchen, it was with feelings of +relief, such as I might imagine would accompany +one's escape from the presence of a dangerous +contagious disease. +</p> + +<p> +While cooking my breakfast, I carefully recalled +every night spent in the room, in the hope that I +might in some way connect the dislike I now felt +with some disagreeable incident that had occurred +in it. But the only thing I could recall was one +stormy night when I suddenly awoke and heard +the boards creaking so loudly in the corridor that +I was convinced there were people in the house. +So certain was I of this, that I had descended the +stairs, gun in hand, only to find the doors and +windows securely fastened, and the mice and black-beetles +in sole possession of the floor. This was +certainly not sufficient to account for the strength +of my feelings. +</p> + +<p> +The morning hours I spent in steady reading; +and when I broke off in the middle of the day for +<a name="page38" id="page38"></a> +a swim and luncheon, I was very much surprised, +if not a little alarmed, to find that my dislike for +the room had, if anything, grown stronger. Going +upstairs to get a book, I experienced the most +marked aversion to entering the room, and while +within I was conscious all the time of an uncomfortable +feeling that was half uneasiness and +half apprehension. The result of it was that, +instead of reading, I spent the afternoon on the +water paddling and fishing, and when I got home +about sundown, brought with me half a dozen +delicious black bass for the supper-table and the +larder. +</p> + +<p> +As sleep was an important matter to me at this +time, I had decided that if my aversion to the room +was so strongly marked on my return as it had +been before, I would move my bed down into the +sitting-room, and sleep there. This was, I argued, in +no sense a concession to an absurd and fanciful fear, +but simply a precaution to ensure a good night's +sleep. A bad night involved the loss of the next +day's reading,—a loss I was not prepared to +incur. +</p> + +<p> +I accordingly moved my bed downstairs into a +corner of the sitting-room facing the door, and was +moreover uncommonly glad when the operation +<a name="page39" id="page39"></a> +was completed, and the door of the bedroom closed +finally upon the shadows, the silence, and the +strange <i>fear</i> that shared the room with them. +</p> + +<p> +The croaking stroke of the kitchen clock sounded +the hour of eight as I finished washing up my +few dishes, and closing the kitchen door behind +me, passed into the front room. All the lamps +were lit, and their reflectors, which I had polished +up during the day, threw a blaze of light into the +room. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the night was still and warm. Not a +breath of air was stirring; the waves were silent, +the trees motionless, and heavy clouds hung like +an oppressive curtain over the heavens. The +darkness seemed to have rolled up with unusual +swiftness, and not the faintest glow of colour +remained to show where the sun had set. There +was present in the atmosphere that ominous and +overwhelming silence which so often precedes the +most violent storms. +</p> + +<p> +I sat down to my books with my brain unusually +clear, and in my heart the pleasant satisfaction of +knowing that five black bass were lying in the +ice-house, and that to-morrow morning the old +farmer would arrive with fresh bread and eggs. I +was soon absorbed in my books. +<a name="page40" id="page40"></a> +</p> + +<p> +As the night wore on the silence deepened. +Even the chipmunks were still; and the boards of +the floors and walls ceased creaking. I read on +steadily till, from the gloomy shadows of the +kitchen, came the hoarse sound of the clock striking +nine. How loud the strokes sounded! They were +like blows of a big hammer. I closed one book +and opened another, feeling that I was just +warming up to my work. +</p> + +<p> +This, however, did not last long. I presently +found that I was reading the same paragraphs over +twice, simple paragraphs that did not require such +effort. Then I noticed that my mind began to +wander to other things, and the effort to recall my +thoughts became harder with each digression. +Concentration was growing momentarily more +difficult. Presently I discovered that I had turned +over two pages instead of one, and had not noticed +my mistake until I was well down the page. This +was becoming serious. What was the disturbing +influence? It could not be physical fatigue. On +the contrary, my mind was unusually alert, and +in a more receptive condition than usual. I made +a new and determined effort to read, and for a +short time succeeded in giving my whole attention +to my subject. But in a very few moments again +<a name="page41" id="page41"></a> +I found myself leaning back in my chair, staring +vacantly into space. +</p> + +<p> +Something was evidently at work in my sub-consciousness. +There was something I had +neglected to do. Perhaps the kitchen door and +windows were not fastened. I accordingly went +to see, and found that they were! The fire perhaps +needed attention. I went in to see, and found that +it was all right! I looked at the lamps, went +upstairs into every bedroom in turn, and then went +round the house, and even into the ice-house. +Nothing was wrong; everything was in its place. +Yet something <i>was</i> wrong! The conviction grew +stronger and stronger within me. +</p> + +<p> +When I at length settled down to my books +again and tried to read, I became aware, for the +first time, that the room seemed growing cold. +Yet the day had been oppressively warm, and +evening had brought no relief. The six big lamps, +moreover, gave out heat enough to warm the room +pleasantly. But a chilliness, that perhaps crept +up from the lake, made itself felt in the room, and +caused me to get up to close the glass door opening +on to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +For a brief moment I stood looking out at the +shaft of light that fell from the windows and shone +<a name="page42" id="page42"></a> +some little distance down the pathway, and out for +a few feet into the lake. +</p> + +<p> +As I looked, I saw a canoe glide into the pathway +of light, and immediately crossing it, pass out of +sight again into the darkness. It was perhaps +a hundred feet from the shore, and it moved +swiftly. +</p> + +<p> +I was surprised that a canoe should pass the +island at that time of night, for all the summer +visitors from the other side of the lake had gone +home weeks before, and the island was a long way +out of any line of water traffic. +</p> + +<p> +My reading from this moment did not make +very good progress, for somehow the picture of +that canoe, gliding so dimly and swiftly across the +narrow track of light on the black waters, +silhouetted itself against the background of my +mind with singular vividness. It kept coming +between my eyes and the printed page. The more +I thought about it the more surprised I became. +It was of larger build than any I had seen during +the past summer months, and was more like the +old Indian war canoes with the high curving bows +and stern and wide beam. The more I tried to +read, the less success attended my efforts; and +finally I closed my books and went out on the +<a name="page43" id="page43"></a> +verandah to walk up and down a bit, and shake +the chilliness out of my bones. +</p> + +<p> +The night was perfectly still, and as dark as +imaginable. I stumbled down the path to the little +landing wharf, where the water made the very +faintest of gurgling under the timbers. The sound +of a big tree falling in the mainland forest, far +across the lake, stirred echoes in the heavy air, like +the first guns of a distant night attack. No other +sound disturbed the stillness that reigned supreme. +</p> + +<p> +As I stood upon the wharf in the broad splash +of light that followed me from the sitting-room +windows, I saw another canoe cross the pathway +of uncertain light upon the water, and disappear +at once into the impenetrable gloom that lay +beyond. This time I saw more distinctly than +before. It was like the former canoe, a big birch-bark, +with high-crested bows and stern and broad +beam. It was paddled by two Indians, of whom +the one in the stern—the steerer—appeared to be +a very large man. I could see this very plainly; +and though the second canoe was much nearer the +island than the first, I judged that they were both +on their way home to the Government Reservation, +which was situated some fifteen miles away upon +the mainland. +<a name="page44" id="page44"></a> +</p> + +<p> +I was wondering in my mind what could possibly +bring any Indians down to this part of the lake at +such an hour of the night, when a third canoe, of +precisely similar build, and also occupied by two +Indians, passed silently round the end of the wharf. +This time the canoe was very much nearer shore, +and it suddenly flashed into my mind that the +three canoes were in reality one and the same, and +that only one canoe was circling the island! +</p> + +<p> +This was by no means a pleasant reflection, +because, if it were the correct solution of the +unusual appearance of the three canoes in this +lonely part of the lake at so late an hour, the +purpose of the two men could only reasonably be +considered to be in some way connected with +myself. I had never known of the Indians +attempting any violence upon the settlers who +shared the wild, inhospitable country with them; +at the same time, it was not beyond the region of +possibility to suppose. . . . But then I did not care +even to think of such hideous possibilities, and my +imagination immediately sought relief in all manner +of other solutions to the problem, which indeed +came readily enough to my mind, but did not +succeed in recommending themselves to my +reason. +<a name="page45" id="page45"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, by a sort of instinct, I stepped +back out of the bright light in which I had +hitherto been standing, and waited in the deep +shadow of a rock to see if the canoe would +again make its appearance. Here I could see, +without being seen, and the precaution seemed a +wise one. +</p> + +<p> +After less than five minutes the canoe, as I had +anticipated, made its fourth appearance. This time +it was not twenty yards from the wharf, and I saw +that the Indians meant to land. I recognised the +two men as those who had passed before, and the +steerer was certainly an immense fellow. It was +unquestionably the same canoe. There could be no +longer any doubt that for some purpose of their +own the men had been going round and round the +island for some time, waiting for an opportunity to +land. I strained my eyes to follow them in the +darkness, but the night had completely swallowed +them up, and not even the faintest swish of the +paddles reached my ears as the Indians plied their +long and powerful strokes. The canoe would be +round again in a few moments, and this time it +was possible that the men might land. It was +well to be prepared. I knew nothing of their +intentions, and two to one (when the two are big +<a name="page46" id="page46"></a> +Indians!) late at night on a lonely island was not +exactly my idea of pleasant intercourse. +</p> + +<p> +In a corner of the sitting-room, leaning up +against the back wall, stood my Marlin rifle, with +ten cartridges in the magazine and one lying +snugly in the greased breech. There was just +time to get up to the house and take up a position +of defence in that corner. Without an instant's +hesitation I ran up to the verandah, carefully +picking my way among the trees, so as to avoid +being seen in the light. Entering the room, I shut +the door leading to the verandah, and as quickly +as possible turned out every one of the six lamps. +To be in a room so brilliantly lighted, where my +every movement could be observed from outside, +while I could see nothing but impenetrable darkness +at every window, was by all laws of warfare +an unnecessary concession to the enemy. And this +enemy, if enemy it was to be, was far too wily and +dangerous to be granted any such advantages. +</p> + +<p> +I stood in the corner of the room with my back +against the wall, and my hand on the cold rifle-barrel. +The table, covered with my books, lay +between me and the door, but for the first few +minutes after the lights were out the darkness +was so intense that nothing could be discerned +<a name="page47" id="page47"></a> +at all. Then, very gradually, the outline of the +room became visible, and the framework of the +windows began to shape itself dimly before my +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +After a few minutes the door (its upper half +of glass), and the two windows that looked +out upon the front verandah, became specially +distinct; and I was glad that this was so, because +if the Indians came up to the house I should be +able to see their approach, and gather something +of their plans. Nor was I mistaken, for there +presently came to my ears the peculiar hollow +sound of a canoe landing and being carefully +dragged up over the rocks. The paddles I distinctly +heard being placed underneath, and the +silence that ensued thereupon I rightly interpreted +to mean that the Indians were stealthily approaching +the house. . . . +</p> + +<p> +While it would be absurd to claim that I was +not alarmed—even frightened—at the gravity of +the situation and its possible outcome, I speak the +whole truth when I say that I was not overwhelmingly +afraid for myself. I was conscious that even +at this stage of the night I was passing into a +psychical condition in which my sensations seemed +no longer normal. Physical fear at no time entered +<a name="page48" id="page48"></a> +into the nature of my feelings; and though I +kept my hand upon my rifle the greater part of +the night, I was all the time conscious that its +assistance could be of little avail against the terrors +that I had to face. More than once I seemed to +feel most curiously that I was in no real sense a +part of the proceedings, nor actually involved in +them, but that I was playing the part of a spectator—a +spectator, moreover, on a psychic rather +than on a material plane. Many of my sensations +that night were too vague for definite description +and analysis, but the main feeling that will stay +with me to the end of my days is the awful horror +of it all, and the miserable sensation that if the +strain had lasted a little longer than was actually +the case my mind must inevitably have given way. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile I stood still in my corner, and waited +patiently for what was to come. The house was +as still as the grave, but the inarticulate voices of +the night sang in my ears, and I seemed to hear +the blood running in my veins and dancing in my +pulses. +</p> + +<p> +If the Indians came to the back of the house, +they would find the kitchen door and window +securely fastened. They could not get in there +without making considerable noise, which I was +<a name="page49" id="page49"></a> +bound to hear. The only mode of getting in was +by means of the door that faced me, and I kept my +eyes glued on that door without taking them off +for the smallest fraction of a second. +</p> + +<p> +My sight adapted itself every minute better to +the darkness. I saw the table that nearly filled +the room, and left only a narrow passage on each +side. I could also make out the straight backs of +the wooden chairs pressed up against it, and could +even distinguish my papers and inkstand lying on +the white oilcloth covering. I thought of the gay +faces that had gathered round that table during +the summer, and I longed for the sunlight as I had +never longed for it before. +</p> + +<p> +Less than three feet to my left the passage-way +led to the kitchen, and the stairs leading to the +bedrooms above commenced in this passage-way, +but almost in the sitting-room itself. Through +the windows I could see the dim motionless +outlines of the trees: not a leaf stirred, not a +branch moved. +</p> + +<p> +A few moments of this awful silence, and then +I was aware of a soft tread on the boards of +the verandah, so stealthy that it seemed an impression +directly on my brain rather than upon +the nerves of hearing. Immediately afterwards a +<a name="page50" id="page50"></a> +black figure darkened the glass door, and I perceived +that a face was pressed against the upper +panes. A shiver ran down my back, and my hair +was conscious of a tendency to rise and stand at +right angles to my head. +</p> + +<p> +It was the figure of an Indian, broad-shouldered +and immense; indeed, the largest figure of a man +I have ever seen outside of a circus hall. By some +power of light that seemed to generate itself in the +brain, I saw the strong dark face with the aquiline +nose and high cheek-bones flattened against the +glass. The direction of the gaze I could not determine; +but faint gleams of light as the big eyes +rolled round and showed their whites, told me +plainly that no corner of the room escaped their +searching. +</p> + +<p> +For what seemed fully five minutes the dark +figure stood there, with the huge shoulders bent +forward so as to bring the head down to the level +of the glass; while behind him, though not nearly +so large, the shadowy form of the other Indian +swayed to and fro like a bent tree. While I waited +in an agony of suspense and agitation for their +next movement little currents of icy sensation ran +up and down my spine and my heart seemed alternately +to stop beating and then start off again +<a name="page51" id="page51"></a> +with terrifying rapidity. They must have heard +its thumping and the singing of the blood in my +head! Moreover, I was conscious, as I felt a cold +stream of perspiration trickle down my face, of a +desire to scream, to shout, to bang the walls like a +child, to make a noise, or do anything that would +relieve the suspense and bring things to a speedy +climax. +</p> + +<p> +It was probably this inclination that led me to +another discovery, for when I tried to bring my +rifle from behind my back to raise it and have it +pointed at the door ready to fire, I found that +I was powerless to move. The muscles, paralysed +by this strange fear, refused to obey the will. +Here indeed was a terrifying complication! +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +There was a faint sound of rattling at the brass +knob, and the door was pushed open a couple of +inches. A pause of a few seconds, and it was +pushed open still further. Without a sound of +footsteps that was appreciable to my ears, the two +figures glided into the room, and the man behind +gently closed the door after him. +</p> + +<p> +They were alone with me between the four +walls. Could they see me standing there, so still +and straight in my corner? Had they, perhaps, +<a name="page52" id="page52"></a> +already seen me? My blood surged and sang like +the roll of drums in an orchestra; and though I +did my best to suppress my breathing, it sounded +like the rushing of wind through a pneumatic +tube. +</p> + +<p> +My suspense as to the next move was soon at an +end—only, however, to give place to a new and +keener alarm. The men had hitherto exchanged +no words and no signs, but there were general +indications of a movement across the room, and +whichever way they went they would have to pass +round the table. If they came my way they +would have to pass within six inches of my person. +While I was considering this very disagreeable +possibility, I perceived that the smaller Indian +(smaller by comparison) suddenly raised his arm +and pointed to the ceiling. The other fellow raised +his head and followed the direction of his companion's +arm. I began to understand at last. +They were going upstairs, and the room directly +overhead to which they pointed had been until +this night my bedroom. It was the room in which +I had experienced that very morning so strange a +sensation of fear, and but for which I should then +have been lying asleep in the narrow bed against +the window. +<a name="page53" id="page53"></a> +</p> + +<p> +The Indians then began to move silently around +the room; they were going upstairs, and they were +coming round my side of the table. So stealthy +were their movements that, but for the abnormally +sensitive state of the nerves, I should never have +heard them. As it was, their cat-like tread was +distinctly audible. Like two monstrous black cats +they came round the table toward me, and for the +first time I perceived that the smaller of the two +dragged something along the floor behind him. +As it trailed along over the floor with a soft, +sweeping sound, I somehow got the impression +that it was a large dead thing with outstretched +wings, or a large, spreading cedar branch. Whatever +it was, I was unable to see it even in outline, +and I was too terrified, even had I possessed the +power over my muscles, to move my neck forward +in the effort to determine its nature. +</p> + +<p> +Nearer and nearer they came. The leader +rested a giant hand upon the table as he moved. +My lips were glued together, and the air seemed +to burn in my nostrils. I tried to close my eyes, +so that I might not see as they passed me; but +my eyelids had stiffened, and refused to obey. +Would they never get by me? Sensation seemed +also to have left my legs, and it was as if I were +<a name="page54" id="page54"></a> +standing on mere supports of wood or stone. +Worse still, I was conscious that I was losing the +power of balance, the power to stand upright, or +even to lean backwards against the wall. Some +force was drawing me forward, and a dizzy terror +seized me that I should lose my balance, and topple +forward against the Indians just as they were in +the act of passing me. +</p> + +<p> +Even moments drawn out into hours must come +to an end some time, and almost before I knew it +the figures had passed me and had their feet upon +the lower step of the stairs leading to the upper +bedrooms. There could not have been six inches +between us, and yet I was conscious only of a +current of cold air that followed them. They had +not touched me, and I was convinced that they +had not seen me. Even the trailing thing on the +floor behind them had not touched my feet, as I +had dreaded it would, and on such an occasion as +this I was grateful even for the smallest mercies. +</p> + +<p> +The absence of the Indians from my immediate +neighbourhood brought little sense of relief. I +stood shivering and shuddering in my corner, and, +beyond being able to breathe more freely, I felt no +whit less uncomfortable. Also, I was aware that +a certain light, which, without apparent source or +<a name="page55" id="page55"></a> +rays, had enabled me to follow their every gesture +and movement, had gone out of the room with +their departure. An unnatural darkness now filled +the room, and pervaded its every corner so that I +could barely make out the positions of the windows +and the glass doors. +</p> + +<p> +As I said before, my condition was evidently an +abnormal one. The capacity for feeling surprise +seemed, as in dreams, to be wholly absent. My +senses recorded with unusual accuracy every +smallest occurrence, but I was able to draw only +the simplest deductions. +</p> + +<p> +The Indians soon reached the top of the stairs, +and there they halted for a moment. I had not +the faintest clue as to their next movement. They +appeared to hesitate. They were listening attentively. +Then I heard one of them, who by the +weight of his soft tread must have been the +giant, cross the narrow corridor and enter the +room directly overhead—my own little bedroom. +But for the insistence of that unaccountable dread +I had experienced there in the morning, I should +at that very moment have been lying in the bed +with the big Indian in the room standing beside +me. +</p> + +<p> +For the space of a hundred seconds there was +<a name="page56" id="page56"></a> +silence, such as might have existed before the +birth of sound. It was followed by a long quivering +shriek of terror, which rang out into the night, +and ended in a short gulp before it had run its +full course. At the same moment the other Indian +left his place at the head of the stairs, and joined +his companion in the bedroom. I heard the +"thing" trailing behind him along the floor. A +thud followed, as of something heavy falling, and +then all became as still and silent as before. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this point that the atmosphere, surcharged +all day with the electricity of a fierce +storm, found relief in a dancing flash of brilliant +lightning simultaneously with a crash of loudest +thunder. For five seconds every article in the +room was visible to me with amazing distinctness, +and through the windows I saw the tree trunks +standing in solemn rows. The thunder pealed and +echoed across the lake and among the distant +islands, and the flood-gates of heaven then opened +and let out their rain in streaming torrents. +</p> + +<p> +The drops fell with a swift rushing sound upon +the still waters of the lake, which leaped up to +meet them, and pattered with the rattle of shot +on the leaves of the maples and the roof of the +cottage. A moment later, and another flash, even +<a name="page57" id="page57"></a> +more brilliant and of longer duration than the first, +lit up the sky from zenith to horizon, and bathed +the room momentarily in dazzling whiteness. I +could see the rain glistening on the leaves and +branches outside. The wind rose suddenly, +and in less than a minute the storm that had +been gathering all day burst forth in its full +fury. +</p> + +<p> +Above all the noisy voices of the elements, the +slightest sounds in the room overhead made themselves +heard, and in the few seconds of deep silence +that followed the shriek of terror and pain I was +aware that the movements had commenced again. +The men were leaving the room and approaching +the top of the stairs. A short pause, and they +began to descend. Behind them, tumbling from +step to step, I could hear that trailing "thing" +being dragged along. It had become ponderous! +</p> + +<p> +I awaited their approach with a degree of calmness, +almost of apathy, which was only explicable +on the ground that after a certain point Nature +applies her own anæsthetic, and a merciful condition +of numbness supervenes. On they came, step +by step, nearer and nearer, with the shuffling sound +of the burden behind growing louder as they +approached. +<a name="page58" id="page58"></a> +</p> + +<p> +They were already half-way down the stairs +when I was galvanised afresh into a condition of +terror by the consideration of a new and horrible +possibility. It was the reflection that if another +vivid flash of lightning were to come when the +shadowy procession was in the room, perhaps when +it was actually passing in front of me, I should see +everything in detail, and worse, be seen myself! +I could only hold my breath and wait—wait while +the minutes lengthened into hours, and the +procession made its slow progress round the +room. +</p> + +<p> +The Indians had reached the foot of the staircase. +The form of the huge leader loomed in the doorway +of the passage, and the burden with an ominous +thud had dropped from the last step to the floor. +There was a moment's pause while I saw the +Indian turn and stoop to assist his companion. +Then the procession moved forward again, entered +the room close on my left, and began to move slowly +round my side of the table. The leader was already +beyond me, and his companion, dragging on the +floor behind him the burden, whose confused outline +I could dimly make out, was exactly in front +of me, when the cavalcade came to a dead halt. +At the same moment, with the strange suddenness +<a name="page59" id="page59"></a> +of thunderstorms, the splash of the rain ceased +altogether, and the wind died away into utter +silence. +</p> + +<p> +For the space of five seconds my heart seemed +to stop beating, and then the worst came. A +double flash of lightning lit up the room and its +contents with merciless vividness. +</p> + +<p> +The huge Indian leader stood a few feet past +me on my right. One leg was stretched forward +in the act of taking a step. His immense shoulders +were turned toward his companion, and in all their +magnificent fierceness I saw the outline of his +features. His gaze was directed upon the burden +his companion was dragging along the floor; but +his profile, with the big aquiline nose, high cheek-bone, +straight black hair and bold chin, burnt +itself in that brief instant into my brain, never +again to fade. +</p> + +<p> +Dwarfish, compared with this gigantic figure, +appeared the proportions of the other Indian, +who, within twelve inches of my face, was stooping +over the thing he was dragging in a position that +lent to his person the additional horror of deformity. +And the burden, lying upon a sweeping cedar +branch which he held and dragged by a long stem, +was the body of a white man. The scalp had been +<a name="page60" id="page60"></a> +neatly lifted, and blood lay in a broad smear upon +the cheeks and forehead. +</p> + +<p> +Then, for the first time that night, the terror that +had paralysed my muscles and my will lifted its +unholy spell from my soul. With a loud cry I +stretched out my arms to seize the big Indian by +the throat, and, grasping only air, tumbled forward +unconscious upon the ground. +</p> + +<p> +I had recognised the body, and <i>the face was my +own!</i>. . . . +</p> + +<p> +It was bright daylight when a man's voice +recalled me to consciousness. I was lying where +I had fallen, and the farmer was standing in the +room with the loaves of bread in his hands. The +horror of the night was still in my heart, and as +the bluff settler helped me to my feet and picked +up the rifle which had fallen with me, with many +questions and expressions of condolence, I imagine +my brief replies were neither self-explanatory nor +even intelligible. +</p> + +<p> +That day, after a thorough and fruitless search +of the house, I left the island, and went over to +spend my last ten days with the farmer; and when +the time came for me to leave, the necessary reading +had been accomplished, and my nerves had +completely recovered their balance. +<a name="page61" id="page61"></a> +</p> + +<p> +On the day of my departure the farmer started +early in his big boat with my belongings to row +to the point, twelve miles distant, where a little +steamer ran twice a week for the accommodation +of hunters. Late in the afternoon I went off in +another direction in my canoe, wishing to see the +island once again, where I had been the victim of +so strange an experience. +</p> + +<p> +In due course I arrived there, and made a +tour of the island. I also made a search of +the little house, and it was not without a curious +sensation in my heart that I entered the little +upstairs bedroom. There seemed nothing unusual. +</p> + +<p> +Just after I re-embarked, I saw a canoe gliding +ahead of me around the curve of the island. A +canoe was an unusual sight at this time of the +year, and this one seemed to have sprung from +nowhere. Altering my course a little, I watched +it disappear around the next projecting point of +rock. It had high curving bows, and there were +two Indians in it. I lingered with some excitement, +to see if it would appear again round the +other side of the island; and in less than five +minutes it came into view. There were less than +two hundred yards between us, and the Indians, +<a name="page62" id="page62"></a> +sitting on their haunches, were paddling swiftly +in my direction. +</p> + +<p> +I never paddled faster in my life than I did in +those next few minutes. When I turned to look +again, the Indians had altered their course, and +were again circling the island. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was sinking behind the forests on the +mainland, and the crimson-coloured clouds of sunset +were reflected in the waters of the lake, when +I looked round for the last time, and saw the big +bark canoe and its two dusky occupants still going +round the island. Then the shadows deepened +rapidly; the lake grew black, and the night wind +blew its first breath in my face as I turned a corner, +and a projecting bluff of rock hid from my view +both island and canoe. +<a name="page63" id="page63"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter3" id="chapter3">A CASE OF EAVESDROPPING</a></h2> + + +<p> +Jim Shorthouse was the sort of fellow who +always made a mess of things. Everything with +which his hands or mind came into contact issued +from such contact in an unqualified and irremediable +state of mess. His college days were a mess: he +was twice rusticated. His schooldays were a mess: +he went to half a dozen, each passing him on to +the next with a worse character and in a more +developed state of mess. His early boyhood was +the sort of mess that copy-books and dictionaries +spell with a big "M," and his babyhood—ugh! was +the embodiment of howling, yowling, screaming +mess. +</p> + +<p> +At the age of forty, however, there came a +change in his troubled life, when he met a girl +with half a million in her own right, who consented +to marry him, and who very soon succeeded in +reducing his most messy existence into a state of +comparative order and system. +</p> + +<p> +Certain incidents, important and otherwise, of +<a name="page64" id="page64"></a> +Jim's life would never have come to be told here +but for the fact that in getting into his "messes" +and out of them again he succeeded in drawing +himself into the atmosphere of peculiar circumstances +and strange happenings. He attracted to +his path the curious adventures of life as unfailingly +as meat attracts flies, and jam wasps. It is to the +meat and jam of his life, so to speak, that he owes +his experiences; his after-life was all pudding, +which attracts nothing but greedy children. With +marriage the interest of his life ceased for all but +one person, and his path became regular as the +sun's instead of erratic as a comet's. +</p> + +<p> +The first experience in order of time that he +related to me shows that somewhere latent behind +his disarranged nervous system there lay psychic +perceptions of an uncommon order. About the +age of twenty-two—I think after his second +rustication—his father's purse and patience had +equally given out, and Jim found himself stranded +high and dry in a large American city. High and +dry! And the only clothes that had no holes in +them safely in the keeping of his uncle's wardrobe. +</p> + +<p> +Careful reflection on a bench in one of the city +parks led him to the conclusion that the only +<a name="page65" id="page65"></a> +thing to do was to persuade the city editor of one +of the daily journals that he possessed an observant +mind and a ready pen, and that he could "do good +work for your paper, sir, as a reporter." This, +then, he did, standing at a most unnatural angle +between the editor and the window to conceal the +whereabouts of the holes. +</p> + +<p> +"Guess we'll have to give you a week's trial," +said the editor, who, ever on the lookout for good +chance material, took on shoals of men in that way +and retained on the average one man per shoal. +Anyhow it gave Jim Shorthouse the wherewithal +to sew up the holes and relieve his uncle's wardrobe +of its burden. +</p> + +<p> +Then he went to find living quarters; and in +this proceeding his unique characteristics already +referred to—what theosophists would call his +Karma—began unmistakably to assert themselves, +for it was in the house he eventually selected that +this sad tale took place. +</p> + +<p> +There are no "diggings" in American cities. +The alternatives for small incomes are grim enough—rooms +in a boarding-house where meals are +served, or in a room-house where no meals are +served—not even breakfast. Rich people live in +palaces, of course, but Jim had nothing to do +<a name="page66" id="page66"></a> +with "sich-like." His horizon was bounded by +boarding-houses and room-houses; and, owing to +the necessary irregularity of his meals and hours, +he took the latter. +</p> + +<p> +It was a large, gaunt-looking place in a side street, +with dirty windows and a creaking iron gate, but +the rooms were large, and the one he selected and +paid for in advance was on the top floor. The landlady +looked gaunt and dusty as the house, and quite +as old. Her eyes were green and faded, and her +features large. +</p> + +<p> +"Waal," she twanged, with her electrifying +Western drawl, "that's the room, if you like it, and +that's the price I said. Now, if you want it, why, +just say so; and if you don't, why, it don't hurt +me any." +</p> + +<p> +Jim wanted to shake her, but he feared the +clouds of long-accumulated dust in her clothes, and +as the price and size of the room suited him, he +decided to take it. +</p> + +<p> +"Anyone else on this floor?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him queerly out of her faded eyes +before she answered. +</p> + +<p> +"None of my guests ever put such questions to +me before," she said; "but I guess you're different. +Why, there's no one at all but an old gent that's +<a name="page67" id="page67"></a> +stayed here every bit of five years. He's over +thar," pointing to the end of the passage. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! I see," said Shorthouse feebly. "So I'm +alone up here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Reckon you are, pretty near," she twanged out, +ending the conversation abruptly by turning her +back on her new "guest," and going slowly and +deliberately downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +The newspaper work kept Shorthouse out most +of the night. Three times a week he got home at +1 a.m., and three times at 3 a.m. The room proved +comfortable enough, and he paid for a second week. +His unusual hours had so far prevented his meeting +any inmates of the house, and not a sound had +been heard from the "old gent" who shared the +floor with him. It seemed a very quiet house. +</p> + +<p> +One night, about the middle of the second week, +he came home tired after a long day's work. The +lamp that usually stood all night in the hall had +burned itself out, and he had to stumble upstairs +in the dark. He made considerable noise in doing +so, but nobody seemed to be disturbed. The whole +house was utterly quiet, and probably everybody +was asleep. There were no lights under any of the +doors. All was in darkness. It was after two +o'clock. +<a name="page68" id="page68"></a> +</p> + +<p> +After reading some English letters that had +come during the day, and dipping for a few +minutes into a book, he became drowsy and got +ready for bed. Just as he was about to get in +between the sheets, he stopped for a moment and +listened. There rose in the night, as he did so, the +sound of steps somewhere in the house below. +Listening attentively, he heard that it was somebody +coming upstairs—a heavy tread, and the +owner taking no pains to step quietly. On it came +up the stairs, tramp, tramp, tramp—evidently the +tread of a big man, and one in something of a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +At once thoughts connected somehow with fire +and police flashed through Jim's brain, but there +were no sounds of voices with the steps, and he +reflected in the same moment that it could only be +the old gentleman keeping late hours and tumbling +upstairs in the darkness. He was in the act of +turning out the gas and stepping into bed, when +the house resumed its former stillness by the footsteps +suddenly coming to a dead stop immediately +outside his own room. +</p> + +<p> +With his hand on the gas, Shorthouse paused a +moment before turning it out to see if the steps +would go on again, when he was startled by a loud +knocking on his door. Instantly, in obedience to a +<a name="page69" id="page69"></a> +curious and unexplained instinct, he turned out the +light, leaving himself and the room in total +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely taken a step across the room to +open the door, when a voice from the other side of +the wall, so close it almost sounded in his ear, +exclaimed in German, "Is that you, father? Come +in." +</p> + +<p> +The speaker was a man in the next room, and +the knocking, after all, had not been on his own +door, but on that of the adjoining chamber, which +he had supposed to be vacant. +</p> + +<p> +Almost before the man in the passage had +time to answer in German, "Let me in at once," +Jim heard someone cross the floor and unlock +the door. Then it was slammed to with a bang, +and there was audible the sound of footsteps about +the room, and of chairs being drawn up to a table +and knocking against furniture on the way. The +men seemed wholly regardless of their neighbour's +comfort, for they made noise enough to waken the +dead. +</p> + +<p> +"Serves me right for taking a room in such a +cheap hole," reflected Jim in the darkness. "I +wonder whom she's let the room to!" +</p> + +<p> +The two rooms, the landlady had told him, were +<a name="page70" id="page70"></a> +originally one. She had put up a thin partition—just +a row of boards—to increase her income. The +doors were adjacent, and only separated by the +massive upright beam between them. When one +was opened or shut the other rattled. +</p> + +<p> +With utter indifference to the comfort of the +other sleepers in the house, the two Germans had +meanwhile commenced to talk both at once and at +the top of their voices. They talked emphatically, +even angrily. The words "Father" and "Otto" +were freely used. Shorthouse understood German, +but as he stood listening for the first minute or +two, an eavesdropper in spite of himself, it was +difficult to make head or tail of the talk, for neither +would give way to the other, and the jumble of +guttural sounds and unfinished sentences was +wholly unintelligible. Then, very suddenly, both +voices dropped together; and, after a moment's +pause, the deep tones of one of them, who seemed +to be the "father," said, with the utmost +distinctness— +</p> + +<p> +"You mean, Otto, that you refuse to get it?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a sound of someone shuffling in the +chair before the answer came. "I mean that I don't +know how to get it. It is so much, father. It is +<i>too</i> much. A part of it—" +<a name="page71" id="page71"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"A part of it!" cried the other, with an angry +oath, "a part of it, when ruin and disgrace are +already in the house, is worse than useless. If you +can get half you can get all, you wretched fool. +Half-measures only damn all concerned." +</p> + +<p> +"You told me last time—" began the other +firmly, but was not allowed to finish. A succession +of horrible oaths drowned his sentence, and the +father went on, in a voice vibrating with anger— +</p> + +<p> +"You know she will give you anything. You +have only been married a few months. If you ask +and give a plausible reason you can get all we want +and more. You can ask it temporarily. All will +be paid back. It will re-establish the firm, and she +will never know what was done with it. With that +amount, Otto, you know I can recoup all these +terrible losses, and in less than a year all will be +repaid. But without it. . . . You must get it, Otto. +Hear me, you must. Am I to be arrested for the +misuse of trust moneys? Is our honoured name to +be cursed and spat on?" The old man choked and +stammered in his anger and desperation. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse stood shivering in the darkness and +listening in spite of himself. The conversation had +carried him along with it, and he had been for some +reason afraid to let his neighbourhood be known. +<a name="page72" id="page72"></a> +But at this point he realised that he had listened +too long and that he must inform the two men that +they could be overheard to every single syllable. So +he coughed loudly, and at the same time rattled +the handle of his door. It seemed to have no effect, +for the voices continued just as loudly as before, +the son protesting and the father growing more and +more angry. He coughed again persistently, and +also contrived purposely in the darkness to tumble +against the partition, feeling the thin boards yield +easily under his weight, and making a considerable +noise in so doing. But the voices went on unconcernedly, +and louder than ever. Could it be +possible they had not heard? +</p> + +<p> +By this time Jim was more concerned about his +own sleep than the morality of overhearing the +private scandals of his neighbours, and he went +out into the passage and knocked smartly at their +door. Instantly, as if by magic, the sounds ceased. +Everything dropped into utter silence. There was +no light under the door and not a whisper could +be heard within. He knocked again, but received +no answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Gentlemen," he began at length, with his lips +close to the keyhole and in German, "please do not +talk so loud. I can overhear all you say in the +<a name="page73" id="page73"></a> +next room. Besides, it is very late, and I wish to +sleep." +</p> + +<p> +He paused and listened, but no answer was +forthcoming. He turned the handle and found +the door was locked. Not a sound broke the +stillness of the night except the faint swish of the +wind over the skylight and the creaking of a +board here and there in the house below. The cold +air of a very early morning crept down the passage, +and made him shiver. The silence of the house +began to impress him disagreeably. He looked +behind him and about him, hoping, and yet fearing, +that something would break the stillness. The +voices still seemed to ring on in his ears; but that +sudden silence, when he knocked at the door, +affected him far more unpleasantly than the voices, +and put strange thoughts in his brain—thoughts +he did not like or approve. +</p> + +<p> +Moving stealthily from the door, he peered over +the banisters into the space below. It was like a +deep vault that might conceal in its shadows +anything that was not good. It was not difficult +to fancy he saw an indistinct moving to-and-fro +below him. Was that a figure sitting on the stairs +peering up obliquely at him out of hideous eyes? +Was that a sound of whispering and shuffling +<a name="page74" id="page74"></a> +down there in the dark halls and forsaken +landings? Was it something more than the +inarticulate murmur of the night? +</p> + +<p> +The wind made an effort overhead, singing +over the skylight, and the door behind him rattled +and made him start. He turned to go back to his +room, and the draught closed the door slowly in +his face as if there were someone pressing against +it from the other side. When he pushed it open +and went in, a hundred shadowy forms seemed to +dart swiftly and silently back to their corners and +hiding-places. But in the adjoining room the +sounds had entirely ceased, and Shorthouse soon +crept into bed, and left the house with its inmates, +waking or sleeping, to take care of themselves, +while he entered the region of dreams and silence. +</p> + +<p> +Next day, strong in the common sense that the +sunlight brings, he determined to lodge a complaint +against the noisy occupants of the next room and +make the landlady request them to modify their +voices at such late hours of the night and morning. +But it so happened that she was not to be seen that +day, and when he returned from the office at midnight +it was, of course, too late. +</p> + +<p> +Looking under the door as he came up to bed he +noticed that there was no light, and concluded that +<a name="page75" id="page75"></a> +the Germans were not in. So much the better. +He went to sleep about one o'clock, fully decided +that if they came up later and woke him with +their horrible noises he would not rest till he had +roused the landlady and made her reprove them +with that authoritative twang, in which every +word was like the lash of a metallic whip. +</p> + +<p> +However, there proved to be no need for such +drastic measures, for Shorthouse slumbered peacefully +all night, and his dreams—chiefly of the +fields of grain and flocks of sheep on the far-away +farms of his father's estate—were permitted to run +their fanciful course unbroken. +</p> + +<p> +Two nights later, however, when he came home +tired out, after a difficult day, and wet and blown +about by one of the wickedest storms he had ever +seen, his dreams—always of the fields and sheep—were +not destined to be so undisturbed. +</p> + +<p> +He had already dozed off in that delicious glow +that follows the removal of wet clothes and the +immediate snuggling under warm blankets, when +his consciousness, hovering on the borderland +between sleep and waking, was vaguely troubled +by a sound that rose indistinctly from the depths +of the house, and, between the gusts of wind and +rain, reached his ears with an accompanying sense +<a name="page76" id="page76"></a> +of uneasiness and discomfort. It rose on the +night air with some pretence of regularity, dying +away again in the roar of the wind to reassert +itself distantly in the deep, brief hushes of the +storm. +</p> + +<p> +For a few minutes Jim's dreams were coloured +only—tinged, as it were, by this impression of fear +approaching from somewhere insensibly upon him. +His consciousness, at first, refused to be drawn +back from that enchanted region where it had +wandered, and he did not immediately awaken. +But the nature of his dreams changed unpleasantly. +He saw the sheep suddenly run huddled together, +as though frightened by the neighbourhood of an +enemy, while the fields of waving corn became +agitated as though some monster were moving uncouthly +among the crowded stalks. The sky grew +dark, and in his dream an awful sound came somewhere +from the clouds. It was in reality the sound +downstairs growing more distinct. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse shifted uneasily across the bed with +something like a groan of distress. The next +minute he awoke, and found himself sitting straight +up in bed—listening. Was it a nightmare? Had +he been dreaming evil dreams, that his flesh +crawled and the hair stirred on his head? +<a name="page77" id="page77"></a> +</p> + +<p> +The room was dark and silent, but outside the +wind howled dismally and drove the rain with +repeated assaults against the rattling windows. +How nice it would be—the thought flashed +through his mind—if all winds, like the west +wind, went down with the sun! They made such +fiendish noises at night, like the crying of angry +voices. In the daytime they had such a different +sound. If only—— +</p> + +<p> +Hark! It was no dream after all, for the sound +was momentarily growing louder, and its <i>cause</i> +was coming up the stairs. He found himself +speculating feebly what this cause might be, but +the sound was still too indistinct to enable him to +arrive at any definite conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +The voice of a church clock striking two made +itself heard above the wind. It was just about the +hour when the Germans had commenced their +performance three nights before. Shorthouse made +up his mind that if they began it again he would +not put up with it for very long. Yet he was +already horribly conscious of the difficulty he +would have of getting out of bed. The clothes +were so warm and comforting against his back. +The sound, still steadily coming nearer, had by this +time become differentiated from the confused +<a name="page78" id="page78"></a> +clamour of the elements, and had resolved itself +into the footsteps of one or more persons. +</p> + +<p> +"The Germans, hang 'em!" thought Jim. "But +what on earth is the matter with me? I never felt +so queer in all my life." +</p> + +<p> +He was trembling all over, and felt as cold as +though he were in a freezing atmosphere. His +nerves were steady enough, and he felt no diminution +of physical courage, but he was conscious of a +curious sense of malaise and trepidation, such as +even the most vigorous men have been known to +experience when in the first grip of some horrible +and deadly disease. As the footsteps approached +this feeling of weakness increased. He felt a +strange lassitude creeping over him, a sort of +exhaustion, accompanied by a growing numbness +in the extremities, and a sensation of dreaminess in +the head, as if perhaps the consciousness were +leaving its accustomed seat in the brain and +preparing to act on another plane. Yet, strange +to say, as the vitality was slowly withdrawn from +his body, his senses seemed to grow more acute. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the steps were already on the landing +at the top of the stairs, and Shorthouse, still +sitting upright in bed, heard a heavy body brush +past his door and along the wall outside, almost +<a name="page79" id="page79"></a> +immediately afterwards the loud knocking of +someone's knuckles on the door of the adjoining +room. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly, though so far not a sound had proceeded +from within, he heard, through the thin +partition, a chair pushed back and a man quickly +cross the floor and open the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! it's you," he heard in the son's voice. +Had the fellow, then, been sitting silently in there +all this time, waiting for his father's arrival? To +Shorthouse it came not as a pleasant reflection by +any means. +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer to this dubious greeting, +but the door was closed quickly, and then there +was a sound as if a bag or parcel had been thrown +on a wooden table and had slid some distance +across it before stopping. +</p> + +<p> +"What's that?" asked the son, with anxiety in +his tone. +</p> + +<p> +"You may know before I go," returned the other +gruffly. Indeed his voice was more than gruff: it +betrayed ill-suppressed passion. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was conscious of a strong desire to +stop the conversation before it proceeded any +further, but somehow or other his will was not +equal to the task, and he could not get out of +<a name="page80" id="page80"></a> +bed. The conversation went on, every tone and +inflexion distinctly audible above the noise of the +storm. +</p> + +<p> +In a low voice the father continued. Jim +missed some of the words at the beginning of the +sentence. It ended with: " . . . but now they've +all left, and I've managed to get up to you. You +know what I've come for." There was distinct +menace in his tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," returned the other; "I have been +waiting." +</p> + +<p> +"And the money?" asked the father impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +"You've had three days to get it in, and I've +contrived to stave off the worst so far—but +to-morrow is the end." +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Speak, Otto! What have you got for me? +Speak, my son; for God's sake, tell me." +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's silence, during which +the old man's vibrating accents seemed to echo +through the rooms. Then came in a low voice the +answer— +</p> + +<p> +"I have nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"Otto!" cried the other with passion, "nothing!" +</p> + +<p> +"I can get nothing," came almost in a whisper. +<a name="page81" id="page81"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"You lie!" cried the other, in a half-stifled +voice. "I swear you lie. Give me the money." +</p> + +<p> +A chair was heard scraping along the floor. +Evidently the men had been sitting over the table, +and one of them had risen. Shorthouse heard the +bag or parcel drawn across the table, and then +a step as if one of the men was crossing to the +door. +</p> + +<p> +"Father, what's in that? I must know," said +Otto, with the first signs of determination in his +voice. There must have been an effort on the son's +part to gain possession of the parcel in question, +and on the father's to retain it, for between them +it fell to the ground. A curious rattle followed +its contact with the floor. Instantly there were +sounds of a scuffle. The men were struggling for +the possession of the box. The elder man with +oaths, and blasphemous imprecations, the other +with short gasps that betokened the strength of +his efforts. It was of short duration, and the +younger man had evidently won, for a minute +later was heard his angry exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew it. Her jewels! You scoundrel, you +shall never have them. It is a crime." +</p> + +<p> +The elder man uttered a short, guttural laugh, +which froze Jim's blood and made his skin creep. +<a name="page82" id="page82"></a> +No word was spoken, and for the space of ten +seconds there was a living silence. Then the air +trembled with the sound of a thud, followed +immediately by a groan and the crash of a heavy +body falling over on to the table. A second later +there was a lurching from the table on to the +floor and against the partition that separated the +rooms. The bed quivered an instant at the shock, +but the unholy spell was lifted from his soul and +Jim Shorthouse sprang out of bed and across the +floor in a single bound. He knew that ghastly +murder had been done—the murder by a father +of his son. +</p> + +<p> +With shaking fingers but a determined heart he +lit the gas, and the first thing in which his eyes +corroborated the evidence of his ears was the +horrifying detail that the lower portion of the +partition bulged unnaturally into his own room. +The glaring paper with which it was covered had +cracked under the tension and the boards beneath +it bent inwards towards him. What hideous load +was behind them, he shuddered to think. +</p> + +<p> +All this he saw in less than a second. Since the +final lurch against the wall not a sound had proceeded +from the room, not even a groan or a foot-step. +All was still but the howl of the wind, +<a name="page83" id="page83"></a> +which to his ears had in it a note of triumphant +horror. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was in the act of leaving the room +to rouse the house and send for the police—in fact +his hand was already on the door-knob—when +something in the room arrested his attention. Out +of the corner of his eyes he thought he caught +sight of something moving. He was sure of it, +and turning his eyes in the direction, he found +he was not mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +Something was creeping slowly towards him +along the floor. It was something dark and +serpentine in shape, and it came from the place +where the partition bulged. He stooped down to +examine it with feelings of intense horror and +repugnance, and he discovered that it was moving +toward him from the <i>other side</i> of the wall. His +eyes were fascinated, and for the moment he was +unable to move. Silently, slowly, from side to side +like a thick worm, it crawled forward into the +room beneath his frightened eyes, until at length +he could stand it no longer and stretched out his +arm to touch it. But at the instant of contact he +withdrew his hand with a suppressed scream. It +was sluggish—and it was warm! and he saw that +his fingers were stained with living crimson. +<a name="page84" id="page84"></a> +</p> + +<p> +A second more, and Shorthouse was out in the +passage with his hand on the door of the next room. +It was locked. He plunged forward with all his +weight against it, and, the lock giving way, he fell +headlong into a room that was pitch dark and very +cold. In a moment he was on his feet again and +trying to penetrate the blackness. Not a sound, +not a movement. Not even the sense of a presence. +It was empty, miserably empty! +</p> + +<p> +Across the room he could trace the outline of a +window with rain streaming down the outside, and +the blurred lights of the city beyond. But the +room was empty, appallingly empty; and so still. +He stood there, cold as ice, staring, shivering +listening. Suddenly there was a step behind him +and a light flashed into the room, and when he +turned quickly with his arm up as if to ward off a +terrific blow he found himself face to face with the +landlady. Instantly the reaction began to set in. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly three o'clock in the morning, and +he was standing there with bare feet and striped +pyjamas in a small room, which in the merciful +light he perceived to be absolutely empty, carpetless, +and without a stick of furniture, or even a +window-blind. There he stood staring at the disagreeable +landlady. And there she stood too, +<a name="page85" id="page85"></a> +staring and silent, in a black wrapper, her head +almost bald, her face white as chalk, shading a +sputtering candle with one bony hand and peering +over it at him with her blinking green eyes. She +looked positively hideous. +</p> + +<p> +"Waal?" she drawled at length, "I heard yer +right enough. Guess you couldn't sleep! Or just +prowlin' round a bit—is that it?" +</p> + +<p> +The empty room, the absence of all traces of +the recent tragedy, the silence, the hour, his +striped pyjamas and bare feet—everything together +combined to deprive him momentarily of +speech. He stared at her blankly without a word. +</p> + +<p> +"Waal?" clanked the awful voice. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear woman," he burst out finally, "there's +been something awful—" So far his desperation +took him, but no farther. He positively stuck at +the substantive. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! there hasn't been nothin'," she said slowly +still peering at him. "I reckon you've only seen +and heard what the others did. I never can keep +folks on this floor long. Most of 'em catch on +sooner or later—that is, the ones that's kind of +quick and sensitive. Only you being an Englishman +I thought you wouldn't mind. Nothin' really +happens; it's only thinkin' like." +<a name="page86" id="page86"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was beside himself. He felt ready +to pick her up and drop her over the banisters, +candle and all. +</p> + +<p> +"Look there," he said, pointing at her within an +inch of her blinking eyes with the fingers that +had touched the oozing blood; "look there, my +good woman. Is that only thinking?" +</p> + +<p> +She stared a minute, as if not knowing what +he meant. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess so," she said at length. +</p> + +<p> +He followed her eyes, and to his amazement saw +that his fingers were as white as usual, and quite +free from the awful stain that had been there ten +minutes before. There was no sign of blood. No +amount of staring could bring it back. Had he +gone out of his mind? Had his eyes and ears +played such tricks with him? Had his senses +become false and perverted? He dashed past the +landlady, out into the passage, and gained his own +room in a couple of strides. Whew! . . . the +partition no longer bulged. The paper was not +torn. There was no creeping, crawling thing on +the faded old carpet. +</p> + +<p> +"It's all over now," drawled the metallic voice +behind him. "I'm going to bed again." +</p> + +<p> +He turned and saw the landlady slowly going +<a name="page87" id="page87"></a> +downstairs again, still shading the candle with +her hand and peering up at him from time to time +as she moved. A black, ugly, unwholesome object, +he thought, as she disappeared into the darkness +below, and the last flicker of her candle threw a +queer-shaped shadow along the wall and over the +ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +Without hesitating a moment, Shorthouse threw +himself into his clothes and went out of the house. +He preferred the storm to the horrors of that top +floor, and he walked the streets till daylight. In +the evening he told the landlady he would leave +next day, in spite of her assurances that nothing +more would happen. +</p> + +<p> +"It never comes back," she said—"that is, not +after he's killed." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse gasped. +</p> + +<p> +"You gave me a lot for my money," he growled. +</p> + +<p> +"Waal, it aren't my show," she drawled. "I'm +no spirit medium. You take chances. Some'll +sleep right along and never hear nothin'. Others, +like yourself, are different and get the whole +thing." +</p> + +<p> +"Who's the old gentleman?—does he hear it?" +asked Jim. +</p> + +<p> +"There's no old gentleman at all," she answered +<a name="page88" id="page88"></a> +coolly. "I just told you that to make you feel +easy like in case you did hear anythin'. You +were all alone on the floor." +</p> + +<p> +"Say now," she went on, after a pause in which +Shorthouse could think of nothing to say but unpublishable +things, "say now, do tell, did you +feel sort of cold when the show was on, sort of +tired and weak, I mean, as if you might be going +to die?" +</p> + +<p> +"How can I say?" he answered savagely; +"what I felt God only knows." +</p> + +<p> +"Waal, but He won't tell," she drawled out. +"Only I was wonderin' how you really did feel, +because the man who had that room last was +found one morning in bed—" +</p> + +<p> +"In bed?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was dead. He was the one before you. +Oh! You don't need to get rattled so. You're +all right. And it all really happened, they do +say. This house used to be a private residence +some twenty-five years ago, and a German family +of the name of Steinhardt lived here. They had +a big business in Wall Street, and stood 'way up +in things." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" said her listener. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh yes, they did, right at the top, till one fine +<a name="page89" id="page89"></a> +day it all bust and the old man skipped with the +boodle—" +</p> + +<p> +"Skipped with the boodle?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's so," she said; "got clear away with all +the money, and the son was found dead in his +house, committed soocide it was thought. Though +there was some as said he couldn't have stabbed +himself and fallen in that position. They said he +was murdered. The father died in prison. They +tried to fasten the murder on him, but there was +no motive, or no evidence, or no somethin'. I +forget now." +</p> + +<p> +"Very pretty," said Shorthouse. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll show you somethin' mighty queer any-ways," +she drawled, "if you'll come upstairs a +minute. I've heard the steps and voices lots of +times; they don't pheaze me any. I'd just as lief +hear so many dogs barkin'. You'll find the whole +story in the newspapers if you look it up—not +what goes on here, but the story of the Germans. +My house would be ruined if they told all, and +I'd sue for damages." +</p> + +<p> +They reached the bedroom, and the woman +went in and pulled up the edge of the carpet +where Shorthouse had seen the blood soaking in +the previous night. +<a name="page90" id="page90"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Look thar, if you feel like it," said the old +hag. Stooping down, he saw a dark, dull stain in +the boards that corresponded exactly to the shape +and position of the blood as he had seen it. +</p> + +<p> +That night he slept in a hotel, and the following +day sought new quarters. In the newspapers on +file in his office after a long search he found +twenty years back the detailed story, substantially +as the woman had said, of Steinhardt & Co.'s +failure, the absconding and subsequent arrest of +the senior partner, and the suicide, or murder, of +his son Otto. The landlady's room-house had +formerly been their private residence. +<a name="page91" id="page91"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter4" id="chapter4">KEEPING HIS PROMISE</a></h2> + + +<p> +It was eleven o'clock at night, and young Marriott +was locked into his room, cramming as hard as he +could cram. He was a "Fourth Year Man" at +Edinburgh University and he had been ploughed +for this particular examination so often that his +parents had positively declared they could no +longer supply the funds to keep him there. +</p> + +<p> +His rooms were cheap and dingy, but it was the +lecture fees that took the money. So Marriott +pulled himself together at last and definitely made +up his mind that he would pass or die in the +attempt, and for some weeks now he had been +reading as hard as mortal man can read. He was +trying to make up for lost time and money in a +way that showed conclusively he did not understand +the value of either. For no ordinary man—and +Marriott was in every sense an ordinary man—can +afford to drive the mind as he had lately been +driving his, without sooner or later paying the +cost. +<a name="page92" id="page92"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Among the students he had few friends or +acquaintances, and these few had promised not to +disturb him at night, knowing he was at last +reading in earnest. It was, therefore, with feelings +a good deal stronger than mere surprise that he +heard his door-bell ring on this particular night +and realised that he was to have a visitor. Some +men would simply have muffled the bell and gone +on quietly with their work. But Marriott was not +this sort. He was nervous. It would have +bothered and pecked at his mind all night long +not to know who the visitor was and what he +wanted. The only thing to do, therefore, was to +let him in—and out again—as quickly as possible. +</p> + +<p> +The landlady went to bed at ten o'clock punctually, +after which hour nothing would induce her +to pretend she heard the bell, so Marriott jumped +up from his books with an exclamation that +augured ill for the reception of his caller, and +prepared to let him in with his own hand. +</p> + +<p> +The streets of Edinburgh town were very still at +this late hour—it was late for Edinburgh—and in +the quiet neighbourhood of F—— Street, where +Marriott lived on the third floor, scarcely a sound +broke the silence. As he crossed the floor, the +bell rang a second time, with unnecessary clamour, +<a name="page93" id="page93"></a> +and he unlocked the door and passed into the little +hallway with considerable wrath and annoyance +in his heart at the insolence of the double +interruption. +</p> + +<p> +"The fellows all know I'm reading for this +exam. Why in the world do they come to bother +me at such an unearthly hour?" +</p> + +<p> +The inhabitants of the building, with himself, +were medical students, general students, poor +Writers to the Signet, and some others whose +vocations were perhaps not so obvious. The stone +staircase, dimly lighted at each floor by a gas-jet +that would not turn above a certain height, wound +down to the level of the street with no pretence at +carpet or railing. At some levels it was cleaner +than at others. It depended on the landlady of the +particular level. +</p> + +<p> +The acoustic properties of a spiral staircase seem +to be peculiar. Marriott, standing by the open +door, book in hand, thought every moment the +owner of the footsteps would come into view. +The sound of the boots was so close and so loud +that they seemed to travel disproportionately in +advance of their cause. Wondering who it could +be, he stood ready with all manner of sharp +greetings for the man who dared thus to disturb +<a name="page94" id="page94"></a> +his work. But the man did not appear. The steps +sounded almost under his nose, yet no one was +visible. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden queer sensation of fear passed over +him—a faintness and a shiver down the back. It +went, however, almost as soon as it came, and he +was just debating whether he would call aloud to +his invisible visitor, or slam the door and return +to his books, when the cause of the disturbance +turned the corner very slowly and came into +view. +</p> + +<p> +It was a stranger. He saw a youngish man +short of figure and very broad. His face was the +colour of a piece of chalk and the eyes, which were +very bright, had heavy lines underneath them. +Though the cheeks and chin were unshaven and +the general appearance unkempt, the man was +evidently a gentleman, for he was well dressed +and bore himself with a certain air. But, strangest +of all, he wore no hat, and carried none in his +hand; and although rain had been falling steadily +all the evening, he appeared to have neither +overcoat nor umbrella. +</p> + +<p> +A hundred questions sprang up in Marriott's +mind and rushed to his lips, chief among which +was something like "Who in the world are you?" +<a name="page95" id="page95"></a> +and "What in the name of heaven do you come +to me for?" But none of these questions found +time to express themselves in words, for almost at +once the caller turned his head a little so that the +gas light in the hall fell upon his features from a +new angle. Then in a flash Marriott recognised +him. +</p> + +<p> +"Field! Man alive! Is it you?" he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +The Fourth Year Man was not lacking in +intuition, and he perceived at once that here was a +case for delicate treatment. He divined, without +any actual process of thought, that the catastrophe +often predicted had come at last, and that this +man's father had turned him out of the house. +They had been at a private school together years +before, and though they had hardly met once since, +the news had not failed to reach him from time to +time with considerable detail, for the family lived +near his own and between certain of the sisters +there was great intimacy. Young Field had gone +wild later, he remembered hearing about it all—drink, +a woman, opium, or something of the sort—he +could not exactly call to mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Come in," he said at once, his anger vanishing. +"There's been something wrong, I can see. +Come in, and tell me all about it and perhaps I can +<a name="page96" id="page96"></a> +help—" He hardly knew what to say, and +stammered a lot more besides. The dark side of +life, and the horror of it, belonged to a world that +lay remote from his own select little atmosphere +of books and dreamings. But he had a man's +heart for all that. +</p> + +<p> +He led the way across the hall, shutting the +front door carefully behind him, and noticed as +he did so that the other, though certainly sober, +was unsteady on his legs, and evidently much +exhausted. Marriott might not be able to pass his +examinations, but he at least knew the symptoms +of starvation—acute starvation, unless he was +much mistaken—when they stared him in the +face. +</p> + +<p> +"Come along," he said cheerfully, and with +genuine sympathy in his voice. "I'm glad to see +you. I was going to have a bite of something to +eat, and you're just in time to join me." +</p> + +<p> +The other made no audible reply, and shuffled so +feebly with his feet that Marriott took his arm by +way of support. He noticed for the first time that +the clothes hung on him with pitiful looseness. +The broad frame was literally hardly more than a +frame. He was as thin as a skeleton. But, as he +touched him, the sensation of faintness and dread +<a name="page97" id="page97"></a> +returned. It only lasted a moment, and then +passed off, and he ascribed it not unnaturally to +the distress and shock of seeing a former friend +in such a pitiful plight. +</p> + +<p> +"Better let me guide you. It's shamefully dark—this +hall. I'm always complaining," he said +lightly, recognising by the weight upon his arm +that the guidance was sorely needed, "but the old +cat never does anything except promise." He led +him to the sofa, wondering all the time where he +had come from and how he had found out the +address. It must be at least seven years since +those days at the private school when they used to +be such close friends. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, if you'll forgive me for a minute," he +said, "I'll get supper ready—such as it is. And +don't bother to talk. Just take it easy on the +sofa. I see you're dead tired. You can tell me +about it afterwards, and we'll make plans." +</p> + +<p> +The other sat down on the edge of the sofa and +stared in silence, while Marriott got out the brown +loaf, scones, and huge pot of marmalade that +Edinburgh students always keep in their cupboards. +His eyes shone with a brightness that suggested +drugs, Marriott thought, stealing a glance at him +from behind the cupboard door. He did not like +<a name="page98" id="page98"></a> +yet to take a full square look. The fellow was in +a bad way, and it would have been so like an +examination to stare and wait for explanations. +Besides, he was evidently almost too exhausted to +speak. So, for reasons of delicacy—and for another +reason as well which he could not exactly formulate +to himself—he let his visitor rest apparently unnoticed, +while he busied himself with the supper. +He lit the spirit lamp to make cocoa, and when +the water was boiling he drew up the table +with the good things to the sofa, so that Field +need not have even the trouble of moving to a +chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, let's tuck in," he said, "and afterwards +we'll have a pipe and a chat. I'm reading for an +exam, you know, and I always have something +about this time. It's jolly to have a companion." +</p> + +<p> +He looked up and caught his guest's eyes directed +straight upon his own. An involuntary shudder +ran through him from head to foot. The face +opposite him was deadly white and wore a dreadful +expression of pain and mental suffering. +</p> + +<p> +"By Gad!" he said, jumping up, "I quite forgot. +I've got some whisky somewhere. What an ass I +am. I never touch it myself when I'm working +like this." +<a name="page99" id="page99"></a> +</p> + +<p> +He went to the cupboard and poured out a stiff +glass which the other swallowed at a single gulp +and without any water. Marriott watched him +while he drank it, and at the same time noticed +something else as well—Field's coat was all over +dust, and on one shoulder was a bit of cobweb. +It was perfectly dry; Field arrived on a soaking +wet night without hat, umbrella, or overcoat, and +yet perfectly dry, even dusty. Therefore he had +been under cover. What did it all mean? Had +he been hiding in the building? . . . +</p> + +<p> +It was very strange. Yet he volunteered +nothing; and Marriott had pretty well made up +his mind by this time that he would not ask any +questions until he had eaten and slept. Food and +sleep were obviously what the poor devil needed +most and first—he was pleased with his powers of +ready diagnosis—and it would not be fair to press +him till he had recovered a bit. +</p> + +<p> +They ate their supper together while the host +carried on a running one-sided conversation, +chiefly about himself and his exams and his "old +cat" of a landlady, so that the guest need not +utter a single word unless he really wished to—which +he evidently did not! But, while he toyed +with his food, feeling no desire to eat, the other ate +<a name="page100" id="page100"></a> +voraciously. To see a hungry man devour cold +scones, stale oatcake, and brown bread laden with +marmalade was a revelation to this inexperienced +student who had never known what it was to be +without at least three meals a day. He watched +in spite of himself, wondering why the fellow did +not choke in the process. +</p> + +<p> +But Field seemed to be as sleepy as he was +hungry. More than once his head dropped and he +ceased to masticate the food in his mouth. Marriott +had positively to shake him before he would go on +with his meal. A stronger emotion will overcome +a weaker, but this struggle between the sting of +real hunger and the magical opiate of overpowering +sleep was a curious sight to the student, who +watched it with mingled astonishment and alarm. +He had heard of the pleasure it was to feed hungry +men, and watch them eat, but he had never actually +witnessed it, and he had no idea it was like +this. Field ate like an animal—gobbled, stuffed, +gorged. Marriott forgot his reading, and began +to feel something very much like a lump in his +throat. +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid there's been awfully little to offer you, +old man," he managed to blurt out when at length +the last scone had disappeared, and the rapid, +<a name="page101" id="page101"></a> +one-sided meal was at an end. Field still made no +reply, for he was almost asleep in his seat. He +merely looked up wearily and gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +"Now you must have some sleep, you know," he +continued, "or you'll go to pieces. I shall be up +all night reading for this blessed exam. You're +more than welcome to my bed. To-morrow we'll +have a late breakfast and—and see what can be +done—and make plans—I'm awfully good at +making plans, you know," he added with an +attempt at lightness. +</p> + +<p> +Field maintained his "dead sleepy" silence, +but appeared to acquiesce, and the other led the +way into the bedroom, apologising as he did so to +this half-starved son of a baronet—whose own +home was almost a palace—for the size of the +room. The weary guest, however, made no +pretence of thanks or politeness. He merely +steadied himself on his friend's arm as he staggered +across the room, and then, with all his clothes on, +dropped his exhausted body on the bed. In less +than a minute he was to all appearances sound +asleep. +</p> + +<p> +For several minutes Marriott stood in the open +door and watched him; praying devoutly that he +might never find himself in a like predicament, and +<a name="page102" id="page102"></a> +then fell to wondering what he would do with his +unbidden guest on the morrow. But he did not +stop long to think, for the call of his books was +imperative, and happen what might, he must see +to it that he passed that examination. +</p> + +<p> +Having again locked the door into the hall, he +sat down to his books and resumed his notes on +<i>materia medica</i> where he had left off when the +bell rang. But it was difficult for some time to concentrate +his mind on the subject. His thoughts +kept wandering to the picture of that white-faced, +strange-eyed fellow, starved and dirty, lying in his +clothes and boots on the bed. He recalled their +schooldays together before they had drifted apart, +and how they had vowed eternal friendship—and +all the rest of it. And now! What horrible +straits to be in. How could any man let the love +of dissipation take such hold upon him? +</p> + +<p> +But one of their vows together Marriott, it +seemed, had completely forgotten. Just now, at +any rate, it lay too far in the background of his +memory to be recalled. +</p> + +<p> +Through the half-open door—the bedroom led +out of the sitting-room and had no other door—came +the sound of deep, long-drawn breathing, the +regular, steady breathing of a tired man, so tired +<a name="page103" id="page103"></a> +that, even to listen to it made Marriott almost +want to go to sleep himself. +</p> + +<p> +"He needed it," reflected the student, "and +perhaps it came only just in time!" +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps so; for outside the bitter wind from +across the Forth howled cruelly and drove the rain +in cold streams against the window-panes, and +down the deserted streets. Long before Marriott +settled down again properly to his reading, he +heard distantly, as it were, through the sentences +of the book, the heavy, deep breathing of the +sleeper in the next room. +</p> + +<p> +A couple of hours later, when he yawned and +changed his books, he still heard the breathing, and +went cautiously up to the door to look round. +</p> + +<p> +At first the darkness of the room must have +deceived him, or else his eyes were confused and +dazzled by the recent glare of the reading lamp. +For a minute or two he could make out nothing +at all but dark lumps of furniture, the mass of +the chest of drawers by the wall, and the white +patch where his bath stood in the centre of the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +Then the bed came slowly into view. And on +it he saw the outline of the sleeping body gradually +take shape before his eyes, growing up strangely +<a name="page104" id="page104"></a> +into the darkness, till it stood out in marked +relief—the long black form against the white +counterpane. +</p> + +<p> +He could hardly help smiling. Field had not +moved an inch. He watched him a moment or +two and then returned to his books. The night +was full of the singing voices of the wind and rain. +There was no sound of traffic; no hansoms clattered +over the cobbles, and it was still too early for +the milk carts. He worked on steadily and +conscientiously, only stopping now and again to +change a book, or to sip some of the poisonous +stuff that kept him awake and made his +brain so active, and on these occasions Field's +breathing was always distinctly audible in the +room. Outside, the storm continued to howl, but +inside the house all was stillness. The shade of +the reading lamp threw all the light upon the +littered table, leaving the other end of the room +in comparative darkness. The bedroom door was +exactly opposite him where he sat. There was +nothing to disturb the worker, nothing but an +occasional rush of wind against the windows, and +a slight pain in his arm. +</p> + +<p> +This pain, however, which he was unable to +account for, grew once or twice very acute. It +<a name="page105" id="page105"></a> +bothered him; and he tried to remember how, and +when, he could have bruised himself so severely, +but without success. +</p> + +<p> +At length the page before him turned from +yellow to grey, and there were sounds of wheels +in the street below. It was four o'clock. Marriott +leaned back and yawned prodigiously. Then he +drew back the curtains. The storm had subsided +and the Castle Rock was shrouded in mist. With +another yawn he turned away from the dreary +outlook and prepared to sleep the remaining four +hours till breakfast on the sofa. Field was still +breathing heavily in the next room, and he first +tip-toed across the floor to take another look +at him. +</p> + +<p> +Peering cautiously round the half-opened door +his first glance fell upon the bed now plainly +discernible in the grey light of morning. He +stared hard. Then he rubbed his eyes. Then he +rubbed his eyes again and thrust his head farther +round the edge of the door. With fixed eyes he +stared harder still, and harder. +</p> + +<p> +But it made no difference at all. He was staring +into an empty room. +</p> + +<p> +The sensation of fear he had felt when Field +first appeared upon the scene returned suddenly, +<a name="page106" id="page106"></a> +but with much greater force. He became conscious, +too, that his left arm was throbbing violently and +causing him great pain. He stood wondering, and +staring, and trying to collect his thoughts. He +was trembling from head to foot. +</p> + +<p> +By a great effort of the will he left the support +of the door and walked forward boldly into the +room. +</p> + +<p> +There, upon the bed, was the impress of a body, +where Field had lain and slept. There was the +mark of the head on the pillow, and the slight +indentation at the foot of the bed where the boots +had rested on the counterpane. And there, plainer +than ever—for he was closer to it—was <i>the +breathing</i>! +</p> + +<p> +Marriott tried to pull himself together. With +a great effort he found his voice and called his +friend aloud by name! +</p> + +<p> +"Field! Is that you? Where are you?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply; but the breathing continued +without interruption, coming directly from the +bed. His voice had such an unfamiliar sound that +Marriott did not care to repeat his questions, but +he went down on his knees and examined the bed +above and below, pulling the mattress off finally, +and taking the coverings away separately one +<a name="page107" id="page107"></a> +by one. But though the sounds continued there +was no visible sign of Field, nor was there any +space in which a human being, however small, +could have concealed itself. He pulled the bed +out from the wall, but the sound <i>stayed where it +was</i>. It did not move with the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Marriott, finding self-control a little difficult in +his weary condition, at once set about a thorough +search of the room. He went through the cupboard, +the chest of drawers, the little alcove where +the clothes hung—everything. But there was no +sign of anyone. The small window near the +ceiling was closed; and, anyhow, was not large +enough to let a cat pass. The sitting-room door +was locked on the inside; he could not have got +out that way. Curious thoughts began to trouble +Marriott's mind, bringing in their train unwelcome +sensations. He grew more and more excited; he +searched the bed again till it resembled the scene +of a pillow fight; he searched both rooms, knowing +all the time it was useless,—and then he searched +again. A cold perspiration broke out all over his +body; and the sound of heavy breathing, all this +time, never ceased to come from the corner where +Field had lain down to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Then he tried something else. He pushed the +<a name="page108" id="page108"></a> +bed back exactly into its original position—and +himself lay down upon it just where his guest had +lain. But the same instant he sprang up again +in a single bound. The breathing was close beside +him, almost on his cheek, and between him and +the wall! Not even a child could have squeezed +into the space. +</p> + +<p> +He went back into his sitting-room, opened the +windows, welcoming all the light and air possible, +and tried to think the whole matter over quietly +and clearly. Men who read too hard, and slept +too little, he knew were sometimes troubled with +very vivid hallucinations. Again he calmly reviewed +every incident of the night; his accurate +sensations; the vivid details; the emotions stirred +in him; the dreadful feast—no single hallucination +could ever combine all these and cover so long a +period of time. But with less satisfaction he +thought of the recurring faintness, and curious +sense of horror that had once or twice come over +him, and then of the violent pains in his arm. +These were quite unaccountable. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, now that he began to analyse and +examine, there was one other thing that fell upon +him like a sudden revelation: <i>During the whole +time Field had not actually uttered a single +<a name="page109" id="page109"></a> +word!</i> Yet, as though in mockery upon his +reflections, there came ever from that inner room +the sound of the breathing, long-drawn, deep, and +regular. The thing was incredible. It was absurd. +</p> + +<p> +Haunted by visions of brain fever and insanity, +Marriott put on his cap and macintosh and left +the house. The morning air on Arthur's Seat +would blow the cobwebs from his brain; the scent +of the heather, and above all, the sight of the sea. +He roamed over the wet slopes above Holyrood for a +couple of hours, and did not return until the exercise +had shaken some of the horror out of his bones, and +given him a ravening appetite into the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +As he entered he saw that there was another +man in the room, standing against the window +with his back to the light. He recognised his +fellow-student Greene, who was reading for the +same examination. +</p> + +<p> +"Read hard all night, Marriott," he said, "and +thought I'd drop in here to compare notes and +have some breakfast. You're out early?" he added, +by way of a question. Marriott said he had a +headache and a walk had helped it, and Greene +nodded and said "Ah!" But when the girl had +set the steaming porridge on the table and gone +out again, he went on with rather a forced tone, +<a name="page110" id="page110"></a> +"Didn't know you had any friends who drank, +Marriott?" +</p> + +<p> +This was obviously tentative, and Marriott +replied drily that he did not know it either. +</p> + +<p> +"Sounds just as if some chap were 'sleeping it +off' in there, doesn't it, though?" persisted the +other, with a nod in the direction of the bedroom, +and looking curiously at his friend. The two +men stared steadily at each other for several +seconds, and then Marriott said earnestly— +</p> + +<p> +"Then you hear it too, thank God!" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I hear it. The door's open. Sorry +if I wasn't meant to." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I don't mean that," said Marriott, lowering +his voice. "But I'm awfully relieved. Let me +explain. Of course, if you hear it too, then it's +all right; but really it frightened me more than +I can tell you. I thought I was going to have +brain fever, or something, and you know what a +lot depends on this exam. It always begins +with sounds, or visions, or some sort of beastly +hallucination, and I—" +</p> + +<p> +"Rot!" ejaculated the other impatiently. "What +<i>are</i> you talking about?" +</p> + +<p> +"Now, listen to me, Greene," said Marriott, as +calmly as he could, for the breathing was still +<a name="page111" id="page111"></a> +plainly audible, "and I'll tell you what I mean, +only don't interrupt." And thereupon he related +exactly what had happened during the night, +telling everything, even down to the pain in his +arm. When it was over he got up from the table +and crossed the room. +</p> + +<p> +"You hear the breathing now plainly, don't +you?" he said. Greene said he did. "Well, come +with me, and we'll search the room together." +The other, however, did not move from his +chair. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been in already," he said sheepishly; "I +heard the sounds and thought it was you. The +door was ajar—so I went in." +</p> + +<p> +Marriott made no comment, but pushed the +door open as wide as it would go. As it opened, +the sound of breathing grew more and more +distinct. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Someone</i> must be in there," said Greene under +his breath. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Someone</i> is in there, but <i>where</i>?" said +Marriott. Again he urged his friend to go in +with him. But Greene refused point-blank; +said he had been in once and had searched the +room and there was nothing there. He would +not go in again for a good deal. +<a name="page112" id="page112"></a> +</p> + +<p> +They shut the door and retired into the other +room to talk it all over with many pipes. Greene +questioned his friend very closely, but without +illuminating result, since questions cannot alter +facts. +</p> + +<p> +"The only thing that ought to have a proper, +a logical, explanation is the pain in my arm," said +Marriott, rubbing that member with an attempt +at a smile. "It hurts so infernally and aches all +the way up. I can't remember bruising it, though." +</p> + +<p> +"Let me examine it for you," said Greene. "I'm +awfully good at bones in spite of the examiners' +opinion to the contrary." It was a relief to play +the fool a bit, and Marriott took his coat off and +rolled up his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +"By George, though, I'm bleeding!" he exclaimed. +"Look here! What on earth's this?" +</p> + +<p> +On the forearm, quite close to the wrist, was a +thin red line. There was a tiny drop of apparently +fresh blood on it. Greene came over and looked +closely at it for some minutes. Then he sat back +in his chair, looking curiously at his friend's face. +</p> + +<p> +"You've scratched yourself without knowing +it," he said presently. +</p> + +<p> +"There's no sign of a bruise. It must be something +else that made the arm ache." +<a name="page113" id="page113"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Marriott sat very still, staring silently at his +arm as though the solution of the whole mystery +lay there actually written upon the skin. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter? I see nothing very +strange about a scratch," said Greene, in an unconvincing +sort of voice. "It was your cuff links +probably. Last night in your excitement—" +</p> + +<p> +But Marriott, white to the very lips, was trying +to speak. The sweat stood in great beads on his +forehead. At last he leaned forward close to his +friend's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Look," he said, in a low voice that shook a +little. "Do you see that red mark? I mean +<i>underneath</i> what you call the scratch?" +</p> + +<p> +Greene admitted he saw something or other, +and Marriott wiped the place clean with his +handkerchief and told him to look again more +closely. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I see," returned the other, lifting his head +after a moment's careful inspection. "It looks +like an old scar." +</p> + +<p> +"It <i>is</i> an old scar," whispered Marriott, his lips +trembling. "<i>Now</i> it all comes back to me." +</p> + +<p> +"All what?" Greene fidgeted on his chair. He +tried to laugh, but without success. His friend +seemed bordering on collapse. +<a name="page114" id="page114"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Hush! Be quiet, and—I'll tell you," he +said. "<i>Field made that scar.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +For a whole minute the two men looked each +other full in the face without speaking. +</p> + +<p> +"Field made that scar!" repeated Marriott at +length in a louder voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Field! You mean—last night?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not last night. Years ago—at school, +with his knife. And I made a scar in his +arm with mine." Marriott was talking rapidly +now. +</p> + +<p> +"We exchanged drops of blood in each other's +cuts. He put a drop into my arm and I put +one into his—" +</p> + +<p> +"In the name of heaven, what for?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was a boys' compact. We made a sacred +pledge, a bargain. I remember it all perfectly +now. We had been reading some dreadful book +and we swore to appear to one another—I +mean, whoever died first swore to show himself to +the other. And we sealed the compact with each +other's blood. I remember it all so well—the +hot summer afternoon in the playground, seven +years ago—and one of the masters caught us and +confiscated the knives—and I have never thought +of it again to this day—" +<a name="page115" id="page115"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"And you mean—" stammered Greene. +</p> + +<p> +But Marriott made no answer. He got up and +crossed the room and lay down wearily upon the +sofa, hiding his face in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Greene himself was a bit non-plussed. He left +his friend alone for a little while, thinking it all +over again. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike +him. He went over to where Marriott still lay +motionless on the sofa and roused him. In any +case it was better to face the matter, whether there +was an explanation or not. Giving in was always +the silly exit. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Marriott," he began, as the other turned +his white face up to him. "There's no good being +so upset about it. I mean—if it's all an hallucination +we know what to do. And if it isn't—well, +we know what to think, don't we?" +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose so. But it frightens me horribly +for some reason," returned his friend in a hushed +voice. "And that poor devil—" +</p> + +<p> +"But, after all, if the worst is true and—and +that chap <i>has</i> kept his promise—well, he has, that's +all, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +Marriott nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"There's only one thing that occurs to me," +Greene went on, "and that is, are you quite sure +<a name="page116" id="page116"></a> +that—that he really ate like that—I mean that he +actually <i>ate anything at all</i>?" he finished, blurting +out all his thought. +</p> + +<p> +Marriott stared at him for a moment and then +said he could easily make certain. He spoke +quietly. After the main shock no lesser surprise +could affect him. +</p> + +<p> +"I put the things away myself," he said, "after +we had finished. They are on the third shelf in +that cupboard. No one's touched 'em since." +</p> + +<p> +He pointed without getting up, and Greene took +the hint and went over to look. +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly," he said, after a brief examination; +"just as I thought. It was partly hallucination, +at any rate. The things haven't been touched. +Come and see for yourself." +</p> + +<p> +Together they examined the shelf. There was +the brown loaf, the plate of stale scones, the oatcake, +all untouched. Even the glass of whisky +Marriott had poured out stood there with the +whisky still in it. +</p> + +<p> +"You were feeding—no one," said Greene +"Field ate and drank nothing. He was not there +at all!" +</p> + +<p> +"But the breathing?" urged the other in a low +voice, staring with a dazed expression on his face. +<a name="page117" id="page117"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Greene did not answer. He walked over to the +bedroom, while Marriott followed him with his +eyes. He opened the door, and listened. There +was no need for words. The sound of deep, +regular breathing came floating through the air. +There was no hallucination about that, at any +rate. Marriott could hear it where he stood on +the other side of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Greene closed the door and came back. "There's +only one thing to do," he declared with decision. +"Write home and find out about him, and meanwhile +come and finish your reading in my rooms. +I've got an extra bed." +</p> + +<p> +"Agreed," returned the Fourth Year Man; "there's +no hallucination about that exam; I must pass that +whatever happens." +</p> + +<p> +And this was what they did. +</p> + +<p> +It was about a week later when Marriott got the +answer from his sister. Part of it he read out to +Greene— +</p> + +<p> +"It is curious," she wrote, "that in your letter +you should have enquired after Field. It seems +a terrible thing, but you know only a short while +ago Sir John's patience became exhausted, and he +turned him out of the house, they say without a +penny. Well, what do you think? He has killed +<a name="page118" id="page118"></a> +himself. At least, it looks like suicide. Instead +of leaving the house, he went down into the cellar +and simply starved himself to death. . . . They're +trying to suppress it, of course, but I heard it all +from my maid, who got it from their footman. . . . +They found the body on the 14th and the doctor +said he had died about twelve hours before. . . . +He was dreadfully thin. . . ." +</p> + +<p> +"Then he died on the 13th," said Greene. +</p> + +<p> +Marriott nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"That's the very night he came to see you." +</p> + +<p> +Marriott nodded again. +<a name="page119" id="page119"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter5" id="chapter5">WITH INTENT TO STEAL</a></h2> + + +<p> +To sleep in a lonely barn when the best bedrooms +in the house were at our disposal, seemed, to say +the least, unnecessary, and I felt that some explanation +was due to our host. +</p> + +<p> +But Shorthouse, I soon discovered, had seen to +all that; our enterprise would be tolerated, not +welcomed, for the master kept this sort of thing +down with a firm hand. And then, how little I +could get this man, Shorthouse, to tell me. There +was much I wanted to ask and hear, but he surrounded +himself with impossible barriers. It was +ludicrous; he was surely asking a good deal of me, +and yet he would give so little in return, and his +reason—that it was for my good—may have been +perfectly true, but did not bring me any comfort in +its train. He gave me sops now and then, however, +to keep up my curiosity, till I soon was +aware that there were growing up side by side +within me a genuine interest and an equally +<a name="page120" id="page120"></a> +genuine fear; and something of both these is +probably necessary to all real excitement. +</p> + +<p> +The barn in question was some distance from +the house, on the side of the stables, and I had +passed it on several of my journeyings to and fro +wondering at its forlorn and untarred appearance +under a régime where everything was so spick and +span; but it had never once occurred to me as +possible that I should come to spend a night +under its roof with a comparative stranger, and +undergo there an experience belonging to an order +of things I had always rather ridiculed and +despised. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment I can only partially recall the +process by which Shorthouse persuaded me to lend +him my company. Like myself, he was a guest in +this autumn house-party, and where there were so +many to chatter and to chaff, I think his taciturnity +of manner had appealed to me by contrast, and +that I wished to repay something of what I owed. +There was, no doubt, flattery in it as well, for he +was more than twice my age, a man of amazingly +wide experience, an explorer of all the world's +corners where danger lurked, and—most subtle +flattery of all—by far the best shot in the whole +party, our host included. +<a name="page121" id="page121"></a> +</p> + +<p> +At first, however, I held out a bit. +</p> + +<p> +"But surely this story you tell," I said, "has +the parentage common to all such tales—a superstitious +heart and an imaginative brain—and has +grown now by frequent repetition into an authentic +ghost story? Besides, this head gardener of half +a century ago," I added, seeing that he still went +on cleaning his gun in silence, "who was he, and +what positive information have you about him +beyond the fact that he was found hanging from +the rafters, dead?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was no mere head gardener, this man who +passed as such," he replied without looking up, +"but a fellow of splendid education who used this +curious disguise for his own purposes. Part of +this very barn, of which he always kept the key, +was found to have been fitted up as a complete +laboratory, with athanor, alembic, cucurbite, and +other appliances, some of which the master destroyed +at once—perhaps for the best—and which +I have only been able to guess at—" +</p> + +<p> +"Black Arts," I laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Who knows?" he rejoined quietly. "The man +undoubtedly possessed knowledge—dark knowledge—that +was most unusual and dangerous, and +I can discover no means by which he came to +<a name="page122" id="page122"></a> +it—no ordinary means, that is. But I <i>have</i> found +many facts in the case which point to the +exercise of a most desperate and unscrupulous +will; and the strange disappearances in the neighbourhood, +as well as the bones found buried in the +kitchen garden, though never actually traced to +him, seem to me full of dreadful suggestion." +</p> + +<p> +I laughed again, a little uncomfortably perhaps, +and said it reminded one of the story of Giles de +Rays, maréchal of France, who was said to have +killed and tortured to death in a few years no less +than one hundred and sixty women and children +for the purposes of necromancy, and who was +executed for his crimes at Nantes. But Shorthouse +would not "rise," and only returned to his subject. +</p> + +<p> +"His suicide seems to have been only just in +time to escape arrest," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"A magician of no high order then," I observed +sceptically, "if suicide was his only way of evading +the country police." +</p> + +<p> +"The police of London and St. Petersburg +rather," returned Shorthouse; "for the headquarters +of this pretty company was somewhere in Russia, +and his apparatus all bore the marks of the most +skilful foreign make. A Russian woman then +employed in the household—governess, or something—vanished, +<a name="page123" id="page123"></a> +too, about the same time and was +never caught. She was no doubt the cleverest of +the lot. And, remember, the object of this appalling +group was not mere vulgar gain, but a kind of +knowledge that called for the highest qualities of +courage and intellect in the seekers." +</p> + +<p> +I admit I was impressed by the man's conviction +of voice and manner, for there is something very +compelling in the force of an earnest man's belief, +though I still affected to sneer politely. +</p> + +<p> +"But, like most Black Magicians, the fellow only +succeeded in compassing his own destruction—that +of his tools, rather, and of escaping himself." +</p> + +<p> +"So that he might better accomplish his objects +<i>elsewhere and otherwise</i>," said Shorthouse, giving, +as he spoke, the most minute attention to the +cleaning of the lock. +</p> + +<p> +"Elsewhere and otherwise," I gasped. +</p> + +<p> +"As if the shell he left hanging from the rafter +in the barn in no way impeded the man's spirit +from continuing his dreadful work under new +conditions," he added quietly, without noticing my +interruption. "The idea being that he sometimes +revisits the garden and the barn, chiefly the +barn—" +</p> + +<p> +"The barn!" I exclaimed; "for what purpose?" +<a name="page124" id="page124"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Chiefly the barn," he finished, as if he had +not heard me, "that is, when there is anybody +in it." +</p> + +<p> +I stared at him without speaking, for there was +a wonder in me how he would add to this. +</p> + +<p> +"When he wants fresh material, that is—he +comes to steal from the living." +</p> + +<p> +"Fresh material!" I repeated aghast. "To steal +from the living!" Even then, in broad daylight, +I was foolishly conscious of a creeping sensation +at the roots of my hair, as if a cold breeze were +passing over my skull. +</p> + +<p> +"The strong vitality of the living is what this +sort of creature is supposed to need most," he went +on imperturbably, "and where he has worked and +thought and struggled before is the easiest place +for him to get it in. The former conditions are +in some way more easily reconstructed—" He +stopped suddenly, and devoted all his attention +to the gun. "It's difficult to explain, you know, +rather," he added presently, "and, besides, it's much +better that you should not know till afterwards." +</p> + +<p> +I made a noise that was the beginning of a score +of questions and of as many sentences, but it got +no further than a mere noise, and Shorthouse, of +course, stepped in again. +<a name="page125" id="page125"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Your scepticism," he added, "is one of the +qualities that induce me to ask you to spend the +night there with me." +</p> + +<p> +"In those days," he went on, in response to my +urging for more information, "the family were +much abroad, and often travelled for years at a +time. This man was invaluable in their absence. +His wonderful knowledge of horticulture kept +the gardens—French, Italian, English—in perfect +order. He had carte blanche in the matter of +expense, and of course selected all his own underlings. +It was the sudden, unexpected return of +the master that surprised the amazing stories of +the countryside before the fellow, with all his +cleverness, had time to prepare or conceal." +</p> + +<p> +"But is there no evidence, no more recent +evidence, to show that something is likely to +happen if we sit up there?" I asked, pressing +him yet further, and I think to his liking, for it +showed at least that I was interested. "Has anything +happened there lately, for instance?" +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse glanced up from the gun he was +cleaning so assiduously, and the smoke from his +pipe curled up into an odd twist between me and +the black beard and oriental, sun-tanned face. The +magnetism of his look and expression brought +<a name="page126" id="page126"></a> +more sense of conviction to me than I had felt +hitherto, and I realised that there had been a +sudden little change in my attitude and that I +was now much more inclined to go in for the +adventure with him. At least, I thought, with +such a man, one would be safe in any emergency; +for he is determined, resourceful, and to be depended +upon. +</p> + +<p> +"There's the point," he answered slowly; "for +there has apparently been a fresh outburst—an +attack almost, it seems,—quite recently. There is +evidence, of course, plenty of it, or I should not +feel the interest I do feel, but—" he hesitated a +moment, as though considering how much he ought +to let me know, "but the fact is that three +men this summer, on separate occasions, who have +gone into that barn after nightfall, have been +<i>accosted</i>—" +</p> + +<p> +"Accosted?" I repeated, betrayed into the interruption +by his choice of so singular a word. +</p> + +<p> +"And one of the stablemen—a recent arrival +and quite ignorant of the story—who had to go +in there late one night, saw a dark substance +hanging down from one of the rafters, and when +he climbed up, shaking all over, to cut it down—for +he said he felt sure it was a corpse—the knife +<a name="page127" id="page127"></a> +passed through nothing but air, and he heard a +sound up under the eaves as if someone were laughing. +Yet, while he slashed away, and afterwards +too, the thing went on swinging there before his +eyes and turning slowly with its own weight, like +a huge joint on a spit. The man declares, too, +that it had a large bearded face, and that the +mouth was open and drawn down like the mouth +of a hanged man." +</p> + +<p> +"Can we question this fellow?" +</p> + +<p> +"He's gone—gave notice at once, but not before +I had questioned him myself very closely." +</p> + +<p> +"Then this was quite recent?" I said, for I knew +Shorthouse had not been in the house more than a +week. +</p> + +<p> +"Four days ago," he replied. "But, more than +that, only three days ago a couple of men were in +there together in full daylight when one of them +suddenly turned deadly faint. He said that he +felt an overmastering impulse to hang himself; +and he looked about for a rope and was furious +when his companion tried to prevent him—" +</p> + +<p> +"But he did prevent him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Just in time, but not before he had clambered +on to a beam. He was very violent." +</p> + +<p> +I had so much to say and ask that I could get +<a name="page128" id="page128"></a> +nothing out in time, and Shorthouse went on +again. +</p> + +<p> +"I've had a sort of watching brief for this case," +he said with a smile, whose real significance, however, +completely escaped me at the time, "and one +of the most disagreeable features about it is the +deliberate way the servants have invented excuses +to go out to the place, and always after dark; +some of them who have no right to go there, and +no real occasion at all—have never been there in +their lives before probably—and now all of a +sudden have shown the keenest desire and determination +to go out there about dusk, or soon after, +and with the most paltry and foolish excuses in +the world. Of course," he added, "they have been +prevented, but the desire, stronger than their +superstitious dread, and which they cannot explain, +is very curious." +</p> + +<p> +"Very," I admitted, feeling that my hair was +beginning to stand up again. +</p> + +<p> +"You see," he went on presently, "it all points +to volition—in fact to deliberate arrangement. It +is no mere family ghost that goes with every ivied +house in England of a certain age; it is something +real, and something very malignant." +</p> + +<p> +He raised his face from the gun barrel, and for +<a name="page129" id="page129"></a> +the first time his eye caught mine in the full. Yes, +he was very much in earnest. Also, he knew a +great deal more than he meant to tell. +</p> + +<p> +"It's worth tempting—and fighting, <i>I</i> think," +he said; "but I want a companion with me. Are +you game?" His enthusiasm undoubtedly caught +me, but I still wanted to hedge a bit. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm very sceptical," I pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +"All the better," he said, almost as if to himself. +"You have the pluck; I have the knowledge—" +</p> + +<p> +"The knowledge?" +</p> + +<p> +He looked round cautiously as if to make sure +that there was no one within earshot. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been in the place myself," he said in a +lowered voice, "quite lately—in fact only three +nights ago—the day the man turned queer." +</p> + +<p> +I stared. +</p> + +<p> +"But—I was obliged to come out—" +</p> + +<p> +Still I stared. +</p> + +<p> +"Quickly," he added significantly. +</p> + +<p> +"You've gone into the thing pretty thoroughly," +was all I could find to say, for I had almost made +up my mind to go with him, and was not sure that +I wanted to hear too much beforehand. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. "It's a bore, of course, but I must +do everything thoroughly—or not at all." +<a name="page130" id="page130"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"That's why you clean your own gun, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's why, when there's any danger, I take as +few chances as possible," he said, with the same +enigmatical smile I had noticed before; and then he +added with emphasis, "And that is also why I ask +you to keep me company now." +</p> + +<p> +Of course, the shaft went straight home, and I +gave my promise without further ado. +</p> + +<p> +Our preparations for the night—a couple of rugs +and a flask of black coffee—were not elaborate, +and we found no difficulty, about ten o'clock, in +absenting ourselves from the billiard-room without +attracting curiosity. Shorthouse met me by +arrangement under the cedar on the back lawn, and +I at once realised with vividness what a difference +there is between making plans in the daytime and +carrying them out in the dark. One's common-sense—at +least in matters of this sort—is reduced +to a minimum, and imagination with all her +attendant sprites usurps the place of judgment. +Two and two no longer make four—they make a +mystery, and the mystery loses no time in growing +into a menace. In this particular case, however, my +imagination did not find wings very readily, for +I knew that my companion was the most <i>unmovable</i> +of men—an unemotional, solid block of a man who +<a name="page131" id="page131"></a> +would never lose his head, and in any conceivable +state of affairs would always take the right as well +as the strong course. So my faith in the man gave +me a false courage that was nevertheless very +consoling, and I looked forward to the night's +adventure with a genuine appetite. +</p> + +<p> +Side by side, and in silence, we followed the path +that skirted the East Woods, as they were called, +and then led across two hay fields, and through +another wood, to the barn, which thus lay about +half a mile from the Lower Farm. To the Lower +Farm, indeed, it properly belonged; and this made +us realise more clearly how very ingenious must +have been the excuses of the Hall servants who felt +the desire to visit it. +</p> + +<p> +It had been raining during the late afternoon, +and the trees were still dripping heavily on all +sides, but the moment we left the second wood and +came out into the open, we saw a clearing with the +stars overhead, against which the barn outlined +itself in a black, lugubrious shadow. Shorthouse +led the way—still without a word—and we crawled +in through a low door and seated ourselves in a soft +heap of hay in the extreme corner. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," he said, speaking for the first time, "I'll +show you the inside of the barn, so that you may +<a name="page132" id="page132"></a> +know where you are, and what to do, in case +anything happens." +</p> + +<p> +A match flared in the darkness, and with the +help of two more that followed I saw the interior of +a lofty and somewhat rickety-looking barn, erected +upon a wall of grey stones that ran all round and +extended to a height of perhaps four feet. Above +this masonry rose the wooden sides, running up +into the usual vaulted roof, and supported by a +double tier of massive oak rafters, which stretched +across from wall to wall and were intersected by +occasional uprights. I felt as if we were inside the +skeleton of some antediluvian monster whose huge +black ribs completely enfolded us. Most of this, of +course, only sketched itself to my eye in the +uncertain light of the flickering matches, and when +I said I had seen enough, and the matches went out, +we were at once enveloped in an atmosphere as +densely black as anything that I have ever known. +And the silence equalled the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +We made ourselves comfortable and talked in low +voices. The rugs, which were very large, covered +our legs; and our shoulders sank into a really +luxurious bed of softness. Yet neither of us +apparently felt sleepy. I certainly didn't, and +Shorthouse, dropping his customary brevity that +<a name="page133" id="page133"></a> +fell little short of gruffness, plunged into an easy +run of talking that took the form after a time of +personal reminiscences. This rapidly became a +vivid narration of adventure and travel in far +countries, and at any other time I should have +allowed myself to become completely absorbed in +what he told. But, unfortunately, I was never able +for a single instant to forget the real purpose of our +enterprise, and consequently I felt all my senses +more keenly on the alert than usual, and my +attention accordingly more or less distracted. It +was, indeed, a revelation to hear Shorthouse +unbosom himself in this fashion, and to a young +man it was of course doubly fascinating; but the +little sounds that always punctuate even the deepest +silence out of doors claimed some portion of my +attention, and as the night grew on I soon became +aware that his tales seemed somewhat disconnected +and abrupt—and that, in fact, I heard really only +part of them. +</p> + +<p> +It was not so much that I actually heard other +sounds, but that I <i>expected</i> to hear them; this was +what stole the other half of my listening. There +was neither wind nor rain to break the stillness, +and certainly there were no physical presences in +our neighbourhood, for we were half a mile even +<a name="page134" id="page134"></a> +from the Lower Farm; and from the Hall and +stables, at least a mile. Yet the stillness was being +continually broken—perhaps <i>disturbed</i> is a better +word—and it was to these very remote and tiny +disturbances that I felt compelled to devote at least +half my listening faculties. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time, however, I made a remark +or asked a question, to show that I was listening +and interested; but, in a sense, my questions +always seemed to bear in one direction and to +make for one issue, namely, my companion's previous +experience in the barn when he had been obliged +to come out "quickly." +</p> + +<p> +Apparently I could not help myself in the matter, +for this was really the one consuming curiosity I +had; and the fact that it was better for me not to +know it made me the keener to know it all, even +the worst. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse realised this even better than I did. +I could tell it by the way he dodged, or wholly +ignored, my questions, and this subtle sympathy +between us showed plainly enough, had I been able +at the time to reflect upon its meaning, that the +nerves of both of us were in a very sensitive and +highly-strung condition. Probably, the complete +confidence I felt in his ability to face whatever +<a name="page135" id="page135"></a> +might happen, and the extent to which also I +relied upon him for my own courage, prevented +the exercise of my ordinary powers of reflection, +while it left my senses free to a more than usual +degree of activity. +</p> + +<p> +Things must have gone on in this way for a +good hour or more, when I made the sudden discovery +that there was something unusual in the +conditions of our environment. This sounds a +roundabout mode of expression, but I really know +not how else to put it. The discovery almost +rushed upon me. By rights, we were two men +waiting in an alleged haunted barn for something +to happen; and, as two men who trusted one +another implicitly (though for very different +reasons), there should have been two minds keenly +alert, with the ordinary senses in active co-operation. +Some slight degree of nervousness, too, +there might also have been, but beyond this, +nothing. It was therefore with something of +dismay that I made the sudden discovery that +there <i>was</i> something more, and something that I +ought to have noticed very much sooner than I +actually did notice it. +</p> + +<p> +The fact was—Shorthouse's stream of talk was +wholly unnatural. He was talking with a purpose. +<a name="page136" id="page136"></a> +He did not wish to be cornered by my questions, +true, but he had another and a deeper purpose still, +and it grew upon me, as an unpleasant deduction +from my discovery, that this strong, cynical, +unemotional man by my side was talking—and +had been talking all this time—to gain a particular +end. And this end, I soon felt clearly, was to +<i>convince himself</i>. But, of what? +</p> + +<p> +For myself, as the hours wore on towards midnight, +I was not anxious to find the answer; but +in the end it became impossible to avoid it, and I +knew as I listened, that he was pouring forth this +steady stream of vivid reminiscences of travel—South +Seas, big game, Russian exploration, women, +adventures of all sorts—<i>because he wished the past +to reassert itself to the complete exclusion of the +present</i>. He was taking his precautions. He was +afraid. +</p> + +<p> +I felt a hundred things, once this was clear +to me, but none of them more than the wish to get +up at once and leave the barn. If Shorthouse +was afraid already, what in the world was to +happen to me in the long hours that lay ahead? . . . +I only know that, in my fierce efforts to deny +to myself the evidence of his partial collapse, the +strength came that enabled me to play my part +<a name="page137" id="page137"></a> +properly, and I even found myself helping him by +means of animated remarks upon his stories, and by +more or less judicious questions. I also helped him +by dismissing from my mind any desire to enquire +into the truth of his former experience; and it +was good I did so, for had he turned it loose on +me, with those great powers of convincing description +that he had at his command, I verily believe +that I should never have crawled from that barn +alive. So, at least, I felt at the moment. It was +the instinct of self-preservation, and it brought +sound judgment. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, at least, with different motives, +reached, too, by opposite ways, we were both agreed +upon one thing, namely, that temporarily we would +forget. Fools we were, for a dominant emotion is +not so easily banished, and we were for ever recurring +to it in a hundred ways direct and indirect. A real +fear cannot be so easily trifled with, and while we +toyed on the surface with thousands and thousands +of words—mere words—our sub-conscious activities +were steadily gaining force, and would before very +long have to be properly acknowledged. We could +not get away from it. At last, when he had +finished the recital of an adventure which brought +him near enough to a horrible death, I admitted +<a name="page138" id="page138"></a> +that in my uneventful life I had never yet been +face to face with a real fear. It slipped out +inadvertently, and, of course, without intention, but +the tendency in him at the time was too strong to +be resisted. He saw the loophole, and made for it +full tilt. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the same with all the emotions," he said. +"The experiences of others never give a complete +account. Until a man has deliberately turned and +faced for himself the fiends that chase him down +the years, he has no knowledge of what they really +are, or of what they can do. Imaginative authors +may write, moralists may preach, and scholars +may criticise, but they are dealing all the time in +a coinage of which they know not the actual value. +Their listener gets a sensation—but not the true +one. Until you have faced these emotions," he +went on, with the same race of words that had +come from him the whole evening, "and made them +your own, your slaves, you have no idea of the +power that is in them—hunger, that shows lights +beckoning beyond the grave; thirst, that fills with +mingled ice and fire; passion, love, loneliness, +revenge, and—" He paused for a minute, and +though I knew we were on the brink I was powerless +to hold him. " . . . <i>and fear</i>," he went on—"fear +<a name="page139" id="page139"></a> +. . . I think that death from fear, or madness +from fear, must sum up in a second of time the +total of all the most awful sensations it is possible +for a man to know." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you have yourself felt something of this +fear," I interrupted; "for you said just now—" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not mean physical fear," he replied; "for +that is more or less a question of nerves and will, +and it is imagination that makes men cowards. I +mean an <i>absolute</i> fear, a physical fear one might +call it, that reaches the soul and withers every +power one possesses." +</p> + +<p> +He said a lot more, for he, too, was wholly unable +to stem the torrent once it broke loose; but I have +forgotten it; or, rather, mercifully I did not hear it, +for I stopped my ears and only heard the occasional +words when I took my fingers out to find if he had +come to an end. In due course he did come to an +end, and there we left it, for I then knew positively +what he already knew: that somewhere here in +the night, and within the walls of this very barn +where we were sitting, there was waiting Something +of dreadful malignancy and of great power. +Something that we might both have to face ere +morning, and Something that he had already tried +to face once and failed in the attempt. +<a name="page140" id="page140"></a> +</p> + +<p> +The night wore slowly on; and it gradually +became more and more clear to me that I could not +dare to rely as at first upon my companion, and that +our positions were undergoing a slow process of +reversal. I thank Heaven this was not borne in +upon me too suddenly; and that I had at least the +time to readjust myself somewhat to the new +conditions. Preparation was possible, even if it +was not much, and I sought by every means in my +power to gather up all the shreds of my courage, +so that they might together make a decent +rope that would stand the strain when it came. +The strain would come, that was certain, and I was +thoroughly well aware—though for my life I cannot +put into words the reasons for my knowledge—that +the massing of the material against us was +proceeding somewhere in the darkness with determination +and a horrible skill besides. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse meanwhile talked without ceasing. +The great quantity of hay opposite—or straw, I +believe it actually was—seemed to deaden the sound +of his voice, but the silence, too, had become so +oppressive that I welcomed his torrent and even +dreaded the moment when it would stop. I heard, +too, the gentle ticking of my watch. Each second +uttered its voice and dropped away into a gulf, as +<a name="page141" id="page141"></a> +if starting on a journey whence there was no return. +Once a dog barked somewhere in the distance, +probably on the Lower Farm; and once an owl +hooted close outside and I could hear the swishing +of its wings as it passed overhead. Above me, in +the darkness, I could just make out the outline of +the barn, sinister and black, the rows of rafters +stretching across from wall to wall like wicked arms +that pressed upon the hay. Shorthouse, deep in +some involved yarn of the South Seas that was +meant to be full of cheer and sunshine, and yet +only succeeded in making a ghastly mixture of +unnatural colouring, seemed to care little whether +I listened or not. He made no appeal to me, and I +made one or two quite irrelevant remarks which +passed him by and proved that he was merely +uttering sounds. He, too, was afraid of the +silence. +</p> + +<p> +I fell to wondering how long a man could talk +without stopping. . . . Then it seemed to me that +these words of his went falling into the same gulf +where the seconds dropped, only they were heavier +and fell faster. I began to chase them. Presently +one of them fell much faster than the rest, and I +pursued it and found myself almost immediately in +a land of clouds and shadows. They rose up and +<a name="page142" id="page142"></a> +enveloped me, pressing on the eyelids. . . . It must +have been just here that I actually fell asleep, somewhere +between twelve and one o'clock, because, as I +chased this word at tremendous speed through space, +I knew that I had left the other words far, very far +behind me, till, at last, I could no longer hear them +at all. The voice of the story-teller was beyond +the reach of hearing; and I was falling with ever +increasing rapidity through an immense void. +</p> + +<p> +A sound of whispering roused me. Two persons +were talking under their breath close beside me. +The words in the main escaped me, but I caught +every now and then bitten-off phrases and half +sentences, to which, however, I could attach no +intelligible meaning. The words were quite close—at +my very side in fact—and one of the voices +sounded so familiar, that curiosity overcame dread, +and I turned to look. I was not mistaken; <i>it was +Shorthouse whispering</i>. But the other person, who +must have been just a little beyond him, was lost +in the darkness and invisible to me. It seemed +then that Shorthouse at once turned up his face +and looked at me and, by some means or other that +caused me no surprise at the time, I easily made +out the features in the darkness. They wore an +expression I had never seen there before; he +<a name="page143" id="page143"></a> +seemed distressed, exhausted, worn out, and as +though he were about to give in after a long mental +struggle. He looked at me, almost beseechingly, +and the whispering of the other person died away. +</p> + +<p> +"They're at me," he said. +</p> + +<p> +I found it quite impossible to answer; the words +stuck in my throat. His voice was thin, plaintive, +almost like a child's. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall have to go. I'm not as strong as I +thought. They'll call it suicide, but, of course, it's +really murder." There was real anguish in his +voice, and it terrified me. +</p> + +<p> +A deep silence followed these extraordinary +words, and I somehow understood that the Other +Person was just going to carry on the conversation—I +even fancied I saw lips shaping themselves just +over my friend's shoulder—when I felt a sharp +blow in the ribs and a voice, this time a deep voice, +sounded in my ear. I opened my eyes, and the +wretched dream vanished. Yet it left behind +it an impression of a strong and quite unusual +reality. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Do</i> try not to go to sleep again," he said sternly. +"You seem exhausted. Do you feel so?" There +was a note in his voice I did not welcome,—less +than alarm, but certainly more than mere solicitude. +<a name="page144" id="page144"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"I do feel terribly sleepy all of a sudden," I +admitted, ashamed. +</p> + +<p> +"So you may," he added very earnestly; "but I +rely on you to keep awake, if only to watch. You +have been asleep for half an hour at least—and +you were so still—I thought I'd wake you—" +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" I asked, for my curiosity and nervousness +were altogether too strong to be resisted. +"Do you think we are in danger?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think <i>they</i> are about here now. I feel my +vitality going rapidly—that's always the first sign. +You'll last longer than I, remember. Watch +carefully." +</p> + +<p> +The conversation dropped. I was afraid to say all +I wanted to say. It would have been too unmistakably +a confession; and intuitively I realised the +danger of admitting the existence of certain +emotions until positively forced to. But presently +Shorthouse began again. His voice sounded odd, +and as if it had lost power. It was more like a +woman's or a boy's voice than a man's, and recalled +the voice in my dream. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you've got a knife?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—a big clasp knife; but why?" He made +no answer. "You don't think a practical joke +likely? No one suspects we're here," I went on. +<a name="page145" id="page145"></a> +Nothing was more significant of our real feelings +this night than the way we toyed with words, and +never dared more than to skirt the things in our +mind. +</p> + +<p> +"It's just as well to be prepared," he answered +evasively. "Better be quite sure. See which +pocket it's in—so as to be ready." +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed mechanically, and told him. But even +this scrap of talk proved to me that he was getting +further from me all the time in his mind. He was +following a line that was strange to me, and, as he +distanced me, I felt that the sympathy between us +grew more and more strained. <i>He knew more</i>; it +was not that I minded so much—but that he was +willing to <i>communicate less</i>. And in proportion +as I lost his support, I dreaded his increasing +silence. Not of words—for he talked more volubly +than ever, and with a fiercer purpose—but his +silence in giving no hint of what he must have +known to be really going on the whole time. +</p> + +<p> +The night was perfectly still. Shorthouse continued +steadily talking, and I jogged him now and +again with remarks or questions in order to keep +awake. He paid no attention, however, to either. +</p> + +<p> +About two in the morning a short shower fell, +and the drops rattled sharply on the roof like shot. +<a name="page146" id="page146"></a> +I was glad when it stopped, for it completely +drowned all other sounds and made it impossible +to hear anything else that might be going on. +Something <i>was</i> going on, too, all the time, though +for the life of me I could not say what. The outer +world had grown quite dim—the house-party, the +shooters, the billiard-room, and the ordinary daily +incidents of my visit. All my energies were concentrated +on the present, and the constant strain of +watching, waiting, listening, was excessively telling. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse still talked of his adventures, in some +Eastern country now, and less connectedly. These +adventures, real or imaginary, had quite a savour +of the Arabian Nights, and did not by any means +make it easier for me to keep my hold on reality. +The lightest weight will affect the balance under +such circumstances, and in this case the weight of +his talk was on the wrong scale. His words were +very rapid, and I found it overwhelmingly difficult +not to follow them into that great gulf of darkness +where they all rushed and vanished. But that, I +knew, meant sleep again. Yet, it was strange I +should feel sleepy when at the same time all my +nerves were fairly tingling. Every time I heard +what seemed like a step outside, or a movement in +the hay opposite, the blood stood still for a moment +<a name="page147" id="page147"></a> +in my veins. Doubtless, the unremitting strain +told upon me more than I realised, and this was +doubly great now that I knew Shorthouse was a +source of weakness instead of strength, as I had +counted. Certainly, a curious sense of languor +grew upon me more and more, and I was sure that +the man beside me was engaged in the same +struggle. The feverishness of his talk proved this, +if nothing else. It was dreadfully hard to keep +awake. +</p> + +<p> +But this time, instead of dropping into the gulf, +I saw something come up out of it! It reached +our world by a door in the side of the barn furthest +from me, and it came in cautiously and silently and +moved into the mass of hay opposite. There, for a +moment, I lost it, but presently I caught it again +higher up. It was clinging, like a great bat, to the +side of the barn. Something trailed behind it, I +could not make out what. . . . It crawled up the +wooden wall and began to move out along one of +the rafters. A numb terror settled down all over +me as I watched it. The thing trailing behind it +was apparently a rope. +</p> + +<p> +The whispering began again just then, but the +only words I could catch seemed without meaning; +it was almost like another language. The voices +<a name="page148" id="page148"></a> +were above me, under the roof. Suddenly I saw +signs of active movement going on just beyond the +place where the thing lay upon the rafter. There +was something else up there with it! Then +followed panting, like the quick breathing that +accompanies effort, and the next minute a black +mass dropped through the air and dangled at the +end of the rope. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly, it all flashed upon me. I sprang to +my feet and rushed headlong across the floor of +the barn. How I moved so quickly in the darkness +I do not know; but, even as I ran, it flashed +into my mind that I should never get at my knife +in time to cut the thing down, or else that I should +find it had been taken from me. Somehow or +other—the Goddess of Dreams knows how—I +climbed up by the hay bales and swung out along +the rafter. I was hanging, of course, by my arms, +and the knife was already between my teeth, +though I had no recollection of how it got there. +It was open. The mass, hanging like a side of +bacon, was only a few feet in front of me, and I +could plainly see the dark line of rope that fastened +it to the beam. I then noticed for the first time +that it was swinging and turning in the air, and +that as I approached it seemed to move along the +<a name="page149" id="page149"></a> +beam, so that the same distance was always maintained +between us. The only thing I could do—for +there was no time to hesitate—was to jump at +it through the air and slash at the rope as I +dropped. +</p> + +<p> +I seized the knife with my right hand, gave a +great swing of my body with my legs and leaped +forward at it through the air. Horrors! It was +closer to me than I knew, and I plunged full into +it, and the arm with the knife missed the rope +and cut deeply into some substance that was soft +and yielding. But, as I dropped past it, the thing +had time to turn half its width so that it swung +round and faced me—and I could have sworn +as I rushed past it through the air, that it had +the features of Shorthouse. +</p> + +<p> +The shock of this brought the vile nightmare to +an abrupt end, and I woke up a second time on the +soft hay-bed to find that the grey dawn was +stealing in, and that I was exceedingly cold. After +all I had failed to keep awake, and my sleep, since +it was growing light, must have lasted at least an +hour. A whole hour off my guard! +</p> + +<p> +There was no sound from Shorthouse, to whom, +of course, my first thoughts turned; probably his +flow of words had ceased long ago, and he too had +<a name="page150" id="page150"></a> +yielded to the persuasions of the seductive god. +I turned to wake him and get the comfort of companionship +for the horror of my dream, when to +my utter dismay I saw that the place where he +had been was vacant. He was no longer beside +me. +</p> + +<p> +It had been no little shock before to discover +that the ally in whom lay all my faith and dependence +was really frightened, but it is quite impossible +to describe the sensations I experienced when +I realised he had gone altogether and that I was +alone in the barn. For a minute or two my head +swam and I felt a prey to a helpless terror. The +dream, too, still seemed half real, so vivid had it +been! I was thoroughly frightened—hot and +cold by turns—and I clutched the hay at my side +in handfuls, and for some moments had no idea in +the world what I should do. +</p> + +<p> +This time, at least, I was unmistakably awake, +and I made a great effort to collect myself and +face the meaning of the disappearance of my companion. +In this I succeeded so far that I decided +upon a thorough search of the barn, inside and +outside. It was a dreadful undertaking, and I did +not feel at all sure of being able to bring it to a +conclusion, but I knew pretty well that unless +<a name="page151" id="page151"></a> +something was done at once, I should simply +collapse. +</p> + +<p> +But, when I tried to move, I found that the cold, +and fear, and I know not what else unholy besides, +combined to make it almost impossible. I suddenly +realised that a tour of inspection, during the whole +of which my back would be open to attack, was not +to be thought of. My will was not equal to it. +Anything might spring upon me any moment from +the dark corners, and the growing light was just +enough to reveal every movement I made to any +who might be watching. For, even then, and +while I was still half dazed and stupid, I knew +perfectly well that someone was watching me all +the time with the utmost intentness. I had not +merely awakened; I had <i>been</i> awakened. +</p> + +<p> +I decided to try another plan; I called to him. +My voice had a thin weak sound, far away and +quite unreal, and there was no answer to it. Hark, +though! There was something that might have +been a very faint voice near me! +</p> + +<p> +I called again, this time with greater distinctness, +"Shorthouse, where are you? can you hear +me?" +</p> + +<p> +There certainly was a sound, but it was not a +voice. Something was moving. It was someone +<a name="page152" id="page152"></a> +shuffling along, and it seemed to be outside the +barn. I was afraid to call again, and the sound +continued. It was an ordinary sound enough, no +doubt, but it came to me just then as something +unusual and unpleasant. Ordinary sounds remain +ordinary only so long as one is not listening to +them; under the influence of intense listening they +become unusual, portentous, and therefore extraordinary. +So, this common sound came to me as +something uncommon, disagreeable. It conveyed, +too, an impression of stealth. And with it there +was another, a slighter sound. +</p> + +<p> +Just at this minute the wind bore faintly over +the field the sound of the stable clock, a mile away. +It was three o'clock; the hour when life's pulses +beat lowest; when poor souls lying between life +and death find it hardest to resist. Vividly I +remember this thought crashing through my +brain with a sound of thunder, and I realised +that the strain on my nerves was nearing the +limit, and that something would have to be +done at once if I was to reclaim my self-control +at all. +</p> + +<p> +When thinking over afterwards the events of +this dreadful night, it has always seemed strange +to me that my second nightmare, so vivid in its +<a name="page153" id="page153"></a> +terror and its nearness, should have furnished me +with no inkling of what was really going on all +this while; and that I should not have been able +to put two and two together, or have discovered +sooner than I did <i>what</i> this sound was and <i>where</i> +it came from. I can well believe that the vile +scheming which lay behind the whole experience +found it an easy trifle to direct my hearing amiss; +though, of course, it may equally well have been +due to the confused condition of my mind at the +time and to the general nervous tension under +which I was undoubtedly suffering. +</p> + +<p> +But, whatever the cause for my stupidity at +first in failing to trace the sound to its proper +source, I can only say here that it was with a +shock of unexampled horror that my eye suddenly +glanced upwards and caught sight of the figure +moving in the shadows above my head among the +rafters. Up to this moment I had thought that it +was somebody outside the barn, crawling round +the walls till it came to a door; and the rush of +horror that froze my heart when I looked up and +saw that it was Shorthouse creeping stealthily +along a beam, is something altogether beyond +the power of words to describe. +</p> + +<p> +He was staring intently down upon me, and I +<a name="page154" id="page154"></a> +knew at once that it was he who had been watching +me. +</p> + +<p> +This point was, I think, for me the climax of +feeling in the whole experience; I was incapable +of any further sensation—that is any further +sensation in the same direction. But here the +abominable character of the affair showed itself +most plainly, for it suddenly presented an entirely +new aspect to me. The light fell on the picture +from a new angle, and galvanised me into a fresh +ability to feel when I thought a merciful numbness +had supervened. It may not sound a great deal in +the printed letter, but it came to me almost as if +it had been an extension of consciousness, for the +Hand that held the pencil suddenly touched in +with ghastly effect of contrast the element of the +ludicrous. Nothing could have been worse just +then. Shorthouse, the masterful spirit, so intrepid +in the affairs of ordinary life, whose power increased +rather than lessened in the face of danger—this +man, creeping on hands and knees along +a rafter in a barn at three o'clock in the morning, +watching me all the time as a cat watches a mouse! +Yes, it was distinctly ludicrous, and while +it gave me a measure with which to gauge the +dread emotion that caused his aberration, it stirred +<a name="page155" id="page155"></a> +somewhere deep in my interior the strings of an +empty laughter. +</p> + +<p> +One of those moments then came to me that are +said to come sometimes under the stress of great +emotion, when in an instant the mind grows +dazzlingly clear. An abnormal lucidity took the +place of my confusion of thought, and I suddenly +understood that the two dreams which I had taken +for nightmares must really have been sent me, +and that I had been allowed for one moment to +look over the edge of what was to come; the Good +was helping, even when the Evil was most +determined to destroy. +</p> + +<p> +I saw it all clearly now. Shorthouse had overrated +his strength. The terror inspired by his +first visit to the barn (when he had failed) had +roused the man's whole nature to win, and he had +brought me to divert the deadly stream of evil. +That he had again underrated the power against +him was apparent as soon as he entered the barn, +and his wild talk, and refusal to admit what he +felt, were due to this desire not to acknowledge +the insidious fear that was growing in his heart. +But, at length, it had become too strong. He +had left my side in my sleep—had been overcome +himself, perhaps, first in <i>his</i> sleep, by the +<a name="page156" id="page156"></a> +dreadful impulse. He knew that I should interfere, +and with every movement he made, he watched me +steadily, for the mania was upon him and he was +<i>determined to hang himself</i>. He pretended not to +hear me calling, and I knew that anything coming +between him and his purpose would meet the full +force of his fury—the fury of a maniac, of one, for +the time being, truly possessed. +</p> + +<p> +For a minute or two I sat there and stared. I +saw then for the first time that there was a bit of +rope trailing after him, and that this was what +made the rustling sound I had noticed. Shorthouse, +too, had come to a stop. His body lay +along the rafter like a crouching animal. He +was looking hard at me. That whitish patch was +his face. +</p> + +<p> +I can lay claim to no courage in the matter, for +I must confess that in one sense I was frightened +almost beyond control. But at the same time the +necessity for decided action, if I was to save his +life, came to me with an intense relief. No matter +what animated him for the moment, Shorthouse +was only a <i>man</i>; it was flesh and blood I had to +contend with and not the intangible powers. Only +a few hours before I had seen him cleaning his +gun, smoking his pipe, knocking the billiard balls +<a name="page157" id="page157"></a> +about with very human clumsiness, and the +picture flashed across my mind with the most +wholesome effect. +</p> + +<p> +Then I dashed across the floor of the barn and +leaped upon the hay bales as a preliminary to +climbing up the sides to the first rafter. It was +far more difficult than in my dream. Twice I +slipped back into the hay, and as I scrambled up +for the third time I saw that Shorthouse, who thus +far had made no sound or movement, was now +busily doing something with his hands upon the +beam. He was at its further end, and there must +have been fully fifteen feet between us. Yet I +saw plainly what he was doing; he was fastening +the rope to the rafter. <i>The other end, I saw, was +already round his neck!</i> +</p> + +<p> +This gave me at once the necessary strength, +and in a second I had swung myself on to a beam, +crying aloud with all the authority I could put +into my voice— +</p> + +<p> +"You fool, man! What in the world are you +trying to do? Come down at once!" +</p> + +<p> +My energetic actions and words combined had an +immediate effect upon him for which I blessed +Heaven; for he looked up from his horrid task, +stared hard at me for a second or two, and then +<a name="page158" id="page158"></a> +came wriggling along like a great cat to intercept +me. He came by a series of leaps and bounds and +at an astonishing pace, and the way he moved +somehow inspired me with a fresh horror, for it +did not seem the natural movement of a human +being at all, but more, as I have said, like that of +some lithe wild animal. +</p> + +<p> +He was close upon me. I had no clear idea of +what exactly I meant to do. I could see his face +plainly now; he was grinning cruelly; the eyes +were positively luminous, and the menacing expression +of the mouth was most distressing to +look upon. Otherwise it was the face of a chalk +man, white and dead, with all the semblance of +the living human drawn out of it. Between his +teeth he held my clasp knife, which he must have +taken from me in my sleep, and with a flash I +recalled his anxiety to know exactly which pocket +it was in. +</p> + +<p> +"Drop that knife!" I shouted at him, "and drop +after it yourself—" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you dare to stop me!" he hissed, the +breath coming between his lips across the knife +that he held in his teeth. "Nothing in the world +can stop me now—I have promised—and I must +do it. I can't hold out any longer." +<a name="page159" id="page159"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Then drop the knife and I'll help you," I +shouted back in his face. "I promise—" +</p> + +<p> +"No use," he cried, laughing a little, "I must +do it and you can't stop me." +</p> + +<p> +I heard a sound of laughter, too, somewhere in +the air behind me. The next second Shorthouse +came at me with a single bound. +</p> + +<p> +To this day I cannot quite tell how it happened. +It is still a wild confusion and a fever of horror in +my mind, but from somewhere I drew more than +my usual allowance of strength, and before he could +well have realised what I meant to do, I had his +throat between my fingers. He opened his teeth +and the knife dropped at once, for I gave him a +squeeze he need never forget. Before, my muscles +had felt like so much soaked paper; now they +recovered their natural strength, and more besides. +I managed to work ourselves along the rafter until +the hay was beneath us, and then, completely +exhausted, I let go my hold and we swung round +together and dropped on to the hay, he clawing +at me in the air even as we fell. +</p> + +<p> +The struggle that began by my fighting for his +life ended in a wild effort to save my own, for +Shorthouse was quite beside himself, and had no +idea what he was doing. Indeed, he has always +<a name="page160" id="page160"></a> +averred that he remembers nothing of the entire +night's experiences after the time when he first +woke me from sleep. A sort of deadly mist settled +over him, he declares, and he lost all sense of his +own identity. The rest was a blank until he came +to his senses under a mass of hay with me on the +top of him. +</p> + +<p> +It was the hay that saved us, first by breaking +the fall and then by impeding his movements so +that I was able to prevent his choking me to +death. +<a name="page161" id="page161"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter6" id="chapter6">THE WOOD OF THE DEAD</a></h2> + + +<p> +One summer, in my wanderings with a knapsack, +I was at luncheon in the room of a wayside inn +in the western country, when the door opened and +there entered an old rustic, who crossed close to +my end of the table and sat himself down very +quietly in the seat by the bow window. We +exchanged glances, or, properly speaking, nods, for +at the moment I did not actually raise my eyes to +his face, so concerned was I with the important +business of satisfying an appetite gained by tramping +twelve miles over a difficult country. +</p> + +<p> +The fine warm rain of seven o'clock, which had +since risen in a kind of luminous mist about the +tree tops, now floated far overhead in a deep blue +sky, and the day was settling down into a blaze +of golden light. It was one of those days peculiar +to Somerset and North Devon, when the orchards +shine and the meadows seem to add a radiance of +their own, so brilliantly soft are the colourings of +grass and foliage. +<a name="page162" id="page162"></a> +</p> + +<p> +The inn-keeper's daughter, a little maiden with a +simple country loveliness, presently entered with +a foaming pewter mug, enquired after my welfare, +and went out again. Apparently she had not +noticed the old man sitting in the settle by the +bow window, nor had he, for his part, so much as +once turned his head in our direction. +</p> + +<p> +Under ordinary circumstances I should probably +have given no thought to this other occupant of the +room; but the fact that it was supposed to be +reserved for my private use, and the singular +thing that he sat looking aimlessly out of the +window, with no attempt to engage me in conversation, +drew my eyes more than once somewhat +curiously upon him, and I soon caught myself +wondering why he sat there so silently, and always +with averted head. +</p> + +<p> +He was, I saw, a rather bent old man in rustic +dress, and the skin of his face was wrinkled like +that of an apple; corduroy trousers were caught +up with a string below the knee, and he wore a +sort of brown fustian jacket that was very much +faded. His thin hand rested upon a stoutish stick. +He wore no hat and carried none, and I noticed +that his head, covered with silvery hair, was finely +shaped and gave the impression of something noble. +<a name="page163" id="page163"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Though rather piqued by his studied disregard +of my presence, I came to the conclusion that he +probably had something to do with the little +hostel and had a perfect right to use this room +with freedom, and I finished my luncheon without +breaking the silence and then took the settle +opposite to smoke a pipe before going on my way. +</p> + +<p> +Through the open window came the scents of +the blossoming fruit trees; the orchard was +drenched in sunshine and the branches danced +lazily in the breeze; the grass below fairly shone +with white and yellow daisies, and the red roses +climbing in profusion over the casement mingled +their perfume with the sweetly penetrating odour +of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +It was a place to dawdle in, to lie and dream +away a whole afternoon, watching the sleepy butterflies +and listening to the chorus of birds which +seemed to fill every corner of the sky. Indeed, I +was already debating in my mind whether to linger +and enjoy it all instead of taking the strenuous +pathway over the hills, when the old rustic in the +settle opposite suddenly turned his face towards +me for the first time and began to speak. +</p> + +<p> +His voice had a quiet dreamy note in it that +was quite in harmony with the day and the scene, +<a name="page164" id="page164"></a> +but it sounded far away, I thought, almost as +though it came to me from outside where the +shadows were weaving their eternal tissue of +dreams upon the garden floor. Moreover, there +was no trace in it of the rough quality one might +naturally have expected, and, now that I saw the +full face of the speaker for the first time, I noted +with something like a start that the deep, gentle +eyes seemed far more in keeping with the timbre +of the voice than with the rough and very countrified +appearance of the clothes and manner. His +voice set pleasant waves of sound in motion towards +me, and the actual words, if I remember rightly, +were— +</p> + +<p> +"You are a stranger in these parts?" or "Is +not this part of the country strange to you?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no "sir," nor any outward and visible +sign of the deference usually paid by real country +folk to the town-bred visitor, but in its place a +gentleness, almost a sweetness, of polite sympathy +that was far more of a compliment than either. +</p> + +<p> +I answered that I was wandering on foot through +a part of the country that was wholly new to me, +and that I was surprised not to find a place of such +idyllic loveliness marked upon my map. +</p> + +<p> +"I have lived here all my life," he said, with a +<a name="page165" id="page165"></a> +sigh, "and am never tired of coming back to it +again." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you no longer live in the immediate +neighbourhood?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have moved," he answered briefly, adding +after a pause in which his eyes seemed to wander +wistfully to the wealth of blossoms beyond the +window; "but I am almost sorry, for nowhere else +have I found the sunshine lie so warmly, the +flowers smell so sweetly, or the winds and streams +make such tender music. . . ." +</p> + +<p> +His voice died away into a thin stream of sound +that lost itself in the rustle of the rose-leaves +climbing in at the window, for he turned his head +away from me as he spoke and looked out into +the garden. But it was impossible to conceal my +surprise, and I raised my eyes in frank astonishment +on hearing so poetic an utterance from such +a figure of a man, though at the same time realising +that it was not in the least inappropriate, and that, +in fact, no other sort of expression could have +properly been expected from him. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure you are right," I answered at length, +when it was clear he had ceased speaking; "or +there is something of enchantment here—of real +fairy-like enchantment—that makes me think of +<a name="page166" id="page166"></a> +the visions of childhood days, before one knew +anything of—of—" +</p> + +<p> +I had been oddly drawn into his vein of speech, +some inner force compelling me. But here the +spell passed and I could not catch the thoughts +that had a moment before opened a long vista +before my inner vision. +</p> + +<p> +"To tell you the truth," I concluded lamely, "the +place fascinates me and I am in two minds about +going further—" +</p> + +<p> +Even at this stage I remember thinking it odd +that I should be talking like this with a stranger +whom I met in a country inn, for it has always +been one of my failings that to strangers my +manner is brief to surliness. It was as though +we were figures meeting in a dream, speaking +without sound, obeying laws not operative in the +everyday working world, and about to play with +a new scale of space and time perhaps. But +my astonishment passed quickly into an entirely +different feeling when I became aware that the +old man opposite had turned his head from the +window again, and was regarding me with eyes +so bright they seemed almost to shine with an +inner flame. His gaze was fixed upon my face +with an intense ardour, and his whole manner had +<a name="page167" id="page167"></a> +suddenly become alert and concentrated. There +was something about him I now felt for the first +time that made little thrills of excitement run up +and down my back. I met his look squarely, but +with an inward tremor. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay, then, a little while longer," he said in a +much lower and deeper voice than before; "stay, +and I will teach you something of the purpose of +my coming." +</p> + +<p> +He stopped abruptly. I was conscious of a +decided shiver. +</p> + +<p> +"You have a special purpose then—in coming +back?" I asked, hardly knowing what I was saying. +</p> + +<p> +"To call away someone," he went on in the same +thrilling voice, "someone who is not quite ready +to come, but who is needed elsewhere for a worthier +purpose." There was a sadness in his manner that +mystified me more than ever. +</p> + +<p> +"You mean—?" I began, with an unaccountable +access of trembling. +</p> + +<p> +"I have come for someone who must soon move, +even as I have moved." +</p> + +<p> +He looked me through and through with a dreadfully +piercing gaze, but I met his eyes with a full +straight stare, trembling though I was, and I was +aware that something stirred within me that had +<a name="page168" id="page168"></a> +never stirred before, though for the life of me I +could not have put a name to it, or have analysed +its nature. Something lifted and rolled away. For +one single second I understood clearly that the +past and the future exist actually side by side in +one immense Present; that it was <i>I</i> who moved +to and fro among shifting, protean appearances. +</p> + +<p> +The old man dropped his eyes from my face, +and the momentary glimpse of a mightier universe +passed utterly away. Reason regained its sway +over a dull, limited kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +"Come to-night," I heard the old man say, +"come to me to-night into the Wood of the Dead. +Come at midnight—" +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily I clutched the arm of the settle +for support, for I then felt that I was speaking +with someone who knew more of the real things +that are and will be, than I could ever know while +in the body, working through the ordinary channels +of sense—and this curious half-promise of a partial +lifting of the veil had its undeniable effect upon +me. +</p> + +<p> +The breeze from the sea had died away outside, +and the blossoms were still. A yellow butterfly +floated lazily past the window. The song of the +birds hushed—I smelt the sea—I smelt the perfume +<a name="page169" id="page169"></a> +of heated summer air rising from fields and flowers, +the ineffable scents of June and of the long days +of the year—and with it, from countless green +meadows beyond, came the hum of myriad summer +life, children's voices, sweet pipings, and the sound +of water falling. +</p> + +<p> +I knew myself to be on the threshold of a new +order of experience—of an ecstasy. Something +drew me forth with a sense of inexpressible yearning +towards the being of this strange old man in +the window seat, and for a moment I knew what +it was to taste a mighty and wonderful sensation, +and to touch the highest pinnacle of joy I have +ever known. It lasted for less than a second, and +was gone; but in that brief instant of time the +same terrible lucidity came to me that had already +shown me how the past and future exist in the +present, and I realised and understood that pleasure +and pain are one and the same force, for the joy +I had just experienced included also all the pain +I ever had felt, or ever could feel. . . . +</p> + +<p> +The sunshine grew to dazzling radiance, faded, +passed away. The shadows paused in their dance +upon the grass, deepened a moment, and then +melted into air. The flowers of the fruit trees +laughed with their little silvery laughter as the +<a name="page170" id="page170"></a> +wind sighed over their radiant eyes the old, old +tale of its personal love. Once or twice a +voice called my name. A wonderful sensation +of lightness and power began to steal over +me. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the door opened and the inn-keeper's +daughter came in. By all ordinary standards, +her's was a charming country loveliness, born of +the stars and wild-flowers, of moonlight shining +through autumn mists upon the river and the +fields; yet, by contrast with the higher order of +beauty I had just momentarily been in touch +with, she seemed almost ugly. How dull her eyes, +how thin her voice, how vapid her smile, and +insipid her whole presentment. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she stood between me and the +occupant of the window seat while I counted out +the small change for my meal and for her services; +but when, an instant later, she moved aside, I saw +that the settle was empty and that there was no +longer anyone in the room but our two selves. +</p> + +<p> +This discovery was no shock to me; indeed, I +had almost expected it, and the man had gone just +as a figure goes out of a dream, causing no surprise +and leaving me as part and parcel of the same +dream without breaking of continuity. But, as +<a name="page171" id="page171"></a> +soon as I had paid my bill and thus resumed in +very practical fashion the thread of my normal +consciousness, I turned to the girl and asked her if +she knew the old man who had been sitting in the +window seat, and what he had meant by the +Wood of the Dead. +</p> + +<p> +The maiden started visibly, glancing quickly +round the empty room, but answering simply that +she had seen no one. I described him in great +detail, and then, as the description grew clearer, she +turned a little pale under her pretty sunburn and +said very gravely that it must have been the ghost. +</p> + +<p> +"Ghost! What ghost?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, the village ghost," she said quietly, coming +closer to my chair with a little nervous movement +of genuine alarm, and adding in a lower voice, +"He comes before a death, they say!" +</p> + +<p> +It was not difficult to induce the girl to talk, +and the story she told me, shorn of the superstition +that had obviously gathered with the years +round the memory of a strangely picturesque +figure, was an interesting and peculiar one. +</p> + +<p> +The inn, she said, was originally a farmhouse, +occupied by a yeoman farmer, evidently of a +superior, if rather eccentric, character, who had +been very poor until he reached old age, when a +<a name="page172" id="page172"></a> +son died suddenly in the Colonies and left him +an unexpected amount of money, almost a fortune. +</p> + +<p> +The old man thereupon altered no whit his +simple manner of living, but devoted his income +entirely to the improvement of the village and to +the assistance of its inhabitants; he did this quite +regardless of his personal likes and dislikes, as if +one and all were absolutely alike to him, objects of +a genuine and impersonal benevolence. People +had always been a little afraid of the man, not +understanding his eccentricities, but the simple +force of this love for humanity changed all that in +a very short space of time; and before he died he +came to be known as the Father of the Village +and was held in great love and veneration by all. +</p> + +<p> +A short time before his end, however, he began +to act queerly. He spent his money just as usefully +and wisely, but the shock of sudden wealth after a +life of poverty, people said, had unsettled his mind. +He claimed to see things that others did not see, to +hear voices, and to have visions. Evidently, he +was not of the harmless, foolish, visionary order, +but a man of character and of great personal force, +for the people became divided in their opinions, +and the vicar, good man, regarded and treated him +as a "special case." For many, his name and +<a name="page173" id="page173"></a> +atmosphere became charged almost with a spiritual +influence that was not of the best. People quoted +texts about him; kept when possible out of his +way, and avoided his house after dark. None +understood him, but though the majority loved +him, an element of dread and mystery became +associated with his name, chiefly owing to the +ignorant gossip of the few. +</p> + +<p> +A grove of pine trees behind the farm—the girl +pointed them out to me on the slope of the hill—he +said was the Wood of the Dead, because just +before anyone died in the village he saw them walk +into that wood, singing. None who went in ever +came out again. He often mentioned the names +to his wife, who usually published them to all the +inhabitants within an hour of her husband's confidence; +and it was found that the people he had +seen enter the wood—died. On warm summer +nights he would sometimes take an old stick and +wander out, hatless, under the pines, for he loved +this wood, and used to say he met all his old +friends there, and would one day walk in there +never to return. His wife tried to break him gently +off this habit, but he always had his own way; +and once, when she followed and found him standing +under a great pine in the thickest portion of the +<a name="page174" id="page174"></a> +grove, talking earnestly to someone she could not +see, he turned and rebuked her very gently, but +in such a way that she never repeated the experiment, +saying— +</p> + +<p> +"You should never interrupt me, Mary, when I +am talking with the others; for they teach me, +remember, wonderful things, and I must learn all I +can before I go to join them." +</p> + +<p> +This story went like wild-fire through the +village, increasing with every repetition, until at +length everyone was able to give an accurate +description of the great veiled figures the woman +declared she had seen moving among the trees +where her husband stood. The innocent pine-grove +now became positively haunted, and the title +of "Wood of the Dead" clung naturally as if it +had been applied to it in the ordinary course of +events by the compilers of the Ordnance Survey. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of his ninetieth birthday the old +man went up to his wife and kissed her. His +manner was loving, and very gentle, and there was +something about him besides, she declared afterwards, +that made her slightly in awe of him and +feel that he was almost more of a spirit than a +man. +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her tenderly on both cheeks, but his +<a name="page175" id="page175"></a> +eyes seemed to look right through her as he +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Dearest wife," he said, "I am saying good-bye +to you, for I am now going into the Wood of the +Dead, and I shall not return. Do not follow me, or +send to search, but be ready soon to come upon the +same journey yourself." +</p> + +<p> +The good woman burst into tears and tried to +hold him, but he easily slipped from her hands, and +she was afraid to follow him. Slowly she saw him +cross the field in the sunshine, and then enter the +cool shadows of the grove, where he disappeared +from her sight. +</p> + +<p> +That same night, much later, she woke to find +him lying peacefully by her side in bed, with one +arm stretched out towards her, <i>dead</i>. Her story +was half believed, half doubted at the time, but +in a very few years afterwards it evidently came +to be accepted by all the countryside. A funeral +service was held to which the people flocked in great +numbers, and everyone approved of the sentiment +which led the widow to add the words, "The +Father of the Village," after the usual texts which +appeared upon the stone over his grave. +</p> + +<p> +This, then, was the story I pieced together of the +village ghost as the little inn-keeper's daughter +<a name="page176" id="page176"></a> +told it to me that afternoon in the parlour of the +inn. +</p> + +<p> +"But you're not the first to say you've seen him," +the girl concluded; "and your description is just +what we've always heard, and that window, they +say, was just where he used to sit and think, and +think, when he was alive, and sometimes, they say, +to cry for hours together." +</p> + +<p> +"And would you feel afraid if you had seen him?" +I asked, for the girl seemed strangely moved and +interested in the whole story. +</p> + +<p> +"I think so," she answered timidly. "Surely, if +he spoke to me. He did speak to <i>you</i>, didn't he, +sir?" she asked after a slight pause. +</p> + +<p> +"He said he had come for someone." +</p> + +<p> +"Come for someone," she repeated. "Did he +say—" she went on falteringly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, he did not say for whom," I said quickly, +noticing the sudden shadow on her face and the +tremulous voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you really sure, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, quite sure," I answered cheerfully. "I did +not even ask him." The girl looked at me steadily +for nearly a whole minute as though there were +many things she wished to tell me or to ask. But +she said nothing, and presently picked up her tray +<a name="page177" id="page177"></a> +from the table and walked slowly out of the +room. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of keeping to my original purpose and +pushing on to the next village over the hills, I +ordered a room to be prepared for me at the inn, +and that afternoon I spent wandering about the +fields and lying under the fruit trees, watching the +white clouds sailing out over the sea. The Wood of +the Dead I surveyed from a distance, but in the +village I visited the stone erected to the memory +of the "Father of the Village"—who was thus, +evidently, no mythical personage—and saw also +the monuments of his fine unselfish spirit: the +schoolhouse he built, the library, the home for the +aged poor, and the tiny hospital. +</p> + +<p> +That night, as the clock in the church tower was +striking half-past eleven, I stealthily left the inn +and crept through the dark orchard and over the +hayfield in the direction of the hill whose southern +slope was clothed with the Wood of the Dead. A +genuine interest impelled me to the adventure, but +I also was obliged to confess to a certain sinking in +my heart as I stumbled along over the field in the +darkness, for I was approaching what might prove +to be the birth-place of a real country myth, and a +spot already lifted by the imaginative thoughts of +<a name="page178" id="page178"></a> +a considerable number of people into the region +of the haunted and ill-omened. +</p> + +<p> +The inn lay below me, and all round it the +village clustered in a soft black shadow unrelieved +by a single light. The night was moonless, yet +distinctly luminous, for the stars crowded the sky. +The silence of deep slumber was everywhere; so +still, indeed, that every time my foot kicked against +a stone I thought the sound must be heard below +in the village and waken the sleepers. +</p> + +<p> +I climbed the hill slowly, thinking chiefly of the +strange story of the noble old man who had seized +the opportunity to do good to his fellows the +moment it came his way, and wondering why the +causes that operate ceaselessly behind human life +did not always select such admirable instruments. +Once or twice a night-bird circled swiftly over my +head, but the bats had long since gone to rest, and +there was no other sign of life stirring. +</p> + +<p> +Then, suddenly, with a singular thrill of emotion, +I saw the first trees of the Wood of the Dead rise +in front of me in a high black wall. Their crests +stood up like giant spears against the starry +sky; and though there was no perceptible +movement of the air on my cheek I heard +a faint, rushing sound among their branches +<a name="page179" id="page179"></a> +as the night breeze passed to and fro over their +countless little needles. A remote, hushed murmur +rose overhead and died away again almost immediately; +for in these trees the wind seems to be +never absolutely at rest, and on the calmest day +there is always a sort of whispering music among +their branches. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment I hesitated on the edge of this +dark wood, and listened intently. Delicate perfumes +of earth and bark stole out to meet me. +Impenetrable darkness faced me. Only the +consciousness that I was obeying an order, strangely +given, and including a mighty privilege, enabled +me to find the courage to go forward and step in +boldly under the trees. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly the shadows closed in upon me and +"something" came forward to meet me from the +centre of the darkness. It would be easy enough to +meet my imagination half-way with fact, and say that +a cold hand grasped my own and led me by invisible +paths into the unknown depths of the grove; but +at any rate, without stumbling, and always with +the positive knowledge that I was going straight +towards the desired object, I pressed on confidently +and securely into the wood. So dark was it that, +at first, not a single star-beam pierced the roof of +<a name="page180" id="page180"></a> +branches overhead; and, as we moved forward side +by side, the trees shifted silently past us in long +lines, row upon row, squadron upon squadron, like +the units of a vast, soundless army. +</p> + +<p> +And, at length, we came to a comparatively open +space where the trees halted upon us for a while, +and, looking up, I saw the white river of the sky +beginning to yield to the influence of a new light +that now seemed spreading swiftly across the +heavens. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the dawn coming," said the voice at my side +that I certainly recognised, but which seemed +almost like a whispering from the trees, "and we are +now in the heart of the Wood of the Dead." +</p> + +<p> +We seated ourselves on a moss-covered boulder +and waited the coming of the sun. With marvellous +swiftness, it seemed to me, the light in the +east passed into the radiance of early morning, and +when the wind awoke and began to whisper in the +tree tops, the first rays of the risen sun fell between +the trunks and rested in a circle of gold at our +feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, come with me," whispered my companion +in the same deep voice, "for time has no existence +here, and that which I would show you is already +<i>there</i>!" +<a name="page181" id="page181"></a> +</p> + +<p> +We trod gently and silently over the soft pine +needles. Already the sun was high over our heads, +and the shadows of the trees coiled closely about +their feet. The wood became denser again, but +occasionally we passed through little open bits +where we could smell the hot sunshine and the dry, +baked pine needles. Then, presently, we came to +the edge of the grove, and I saw a hayfield lying +in the blaze of day, and two horses basking lazily +with switching tails in the shafts of a laden hay-waggon. +</p> + +<p> +So complete and vivid was the sense of reality, +that I remember the grateful realisation of the cool +shade where we sat and looked out upon the hot +world beyond. +</p> + +<p> +The last pitchfork had tossed up its fragrant +burden, and the great horses were already straining +in the shafts after the driver, as he walked +slowly in front with one hand upon their bridles. +He was a stalwart fellow, with sunburned neck +and hands. Then, for the first time, I noticed, +perched aloft upon the trembling throne of hay, +the figure of a slim young girl. I could not see +her face, but her brown hair escaped in disorder +from a white sun-bonnet, and her still browner +hands held a well-worn hay rake. She was +<a name="page182" id="page182"></a> +laughing and talking with the driver, and he, +from time to time, cast up at her ardent glances +of admiration—glances that won instant smiles +and soft blushes in response. +</p> + +<p> +The cart presently turned into the roadway that +skirted the edge of the wood where we were +sitting. I watched the scene with intense interest +and became so much absorbed in it that I quite +forgot the manifold, strange steps by which I was +permitted to become a spectator. +</p> + +<p> +"Come down and walk with me," cried the +young fellow, stopping a moment in front of the +horses and opening wide his arms. "Jump! and +I'll catch you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, oh," she laughed, and her voice sounded +to me as the happiest, merriest laughter I had +ever heard from a girl's throat. "Oh, oh! that's +all very well. But remember I'm Queen of the +Hay, and I must ride!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then I must come and ride beside you," he +cried, and began at once to climb up by way +of the driver's seat. But, with a peal of silvery +laughter, she slipped down easily over the back +of the hay to escape him, and ran a little way +along the road. I could see her quite clearly, and +noticed the charming, natural grace of her movements, +<a name="page183" id="page183"></a> +and the loving expression in her eyes as +she looked over her shoulder to make sure he was +following. Evidently, she did not wish to escape +for long, certainly not for ever. +</p> + +<p> +In two strides the big, brown swain was after +her, leaving the horses to do as they pleased. +Another second and his arms would have caught +the slender waist and pressed the little body to +his heart. But, just at that instant, the old man +beside me uttered a peculiar cry. It was low +and thrilling, and it went through me like a sharp +sword. +</p> + +<p> +HE had called her by her own name—and +she had heard. +</p> + +<p> +For a second she halted, glancing back with +frightened eyes. Then, with a brief cry of +despair, the girl swerved aside and dived in +swiftly among the shadows of the trees. +</p> + +<p> +But the young man saw the sudden movement +and cried out to her passionately— +</p> + +<p> +"Not that way, my love! Not that way! It's +the Wood of the Dead!" +</p> + +<p> +She threw a laughing glance over her shoulder +at him, and the wind caught her hair and drew +it out in a brown cloud under the sun. But the +next minute she was close beside me, lying on +<a name="page184" id="page184"></a> +the breast of my companion, and I was certain I +heard the words repeatedly uttered with many +sighs: "Father, you called, and I have come. And +I come willingly, for I am very, very tired." +</p> + +<p> +At any rate, so the words sounded to me, and +mingled with them I seemed to catch the answer +in that deep, thrilling whisper I already knew: +"And you shall sleep, my child, sleep for a long, +long time, until it is time for you to begin the +journey again." +</p> + +<p> +In that brief second of time I had recognised +the face and voice of the inn-keeper's daughter, +but the next minute a dreadful wail broke from +the lips of the young man, and the sky grew +suddenly as dark as night, the wind rose and +began to toss the branches about us, and the +whole scene was swallowed up in a wave of utter +blackness. +</p> + +<p> +Again the chill fingers seemed to seize my +hand, and I was guided by the way I had come +to the edge of the wood, and crossing the hayfield +still slumbering in the starlight, I crept back to +the inn and went to bed. +</p> + +<p> +A year later I happened to be in the same part +of the country, and the memory of the strange +<a name="page185" id="page185"></a> +summer vision returned to me with the added +softness of distance. I went to the old village +and had tea under the same orchard trees at the +same inn. +</p> + +<p> +But the little maid of the inn did not show her +face, and I took occasion to enquire of her father +as to her welfare and her whereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +"Married, no doubt," I laughed, but with a +strange feeling that clutched at my heart. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," replied the inn-keeper sadly, "not +married—though she was just going to be—but +dead. She got a sunstroke in the hayfields, +just a few days after you were here, if I remember +rightly, and she was gone from us in less than +a week." +<a name="page186" id="page186"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter7" id="chapter7">SMITH: AN EPISODE IN A LODGING-HOUSE</a></h2> + + +<p> +"When I was a medical student," began the +doctor, half turning towards his circle of listeners +in the firelight, "I came across one or two very +curious human beings; but there was one fellow +I remember particularly, for he caused me the +most vivid, and I think the most uncomfortable, +emotions I have ever known. +</p> + +<p> +"For many months I knew Smith only by name +as the occupant of the floor above me. Obviously +his name meant nothing to me. Moreover I was +busy with lectures, reading, cliniques and the +like, and had little leisure to devise plans for +scraping acquaintance with any of the other +lodgers in the house. Then chance brought us +curiously together, and this fellow Smith left a +deep impression upon me as the result of our first +meeting. At the time the strength of this first +impression seemed quite inexplicable to me, but +<a name="page187" id="page187"></a> +looking back at the episode now from a stand-point +of greater knowledge I judge the fact to +have been that he stirred my curiosity to an +unusual degree, and at the same time awakened my +sense of horror—whatever that may be in a +medical student—about as deeply and permanently +as these two emotions were capable of being stirred +at all in the particular system and set of nerves +called ME. +</p> + +<p> +"How he knew that I was interested in the +study of languages was something I could never +explain, but one day, quite unannounced, he came +quietly into my room in the evening and asked +me point-blank if I knew enough Hebrew to help +him in the pronunciation of certain words. +</p> + +<p> +"He caught me along the line of least resistance, +and I was greatly flattered to be able to give him +the desired information; but it was only when he +had thanked me and was gone that I realised I +had been in the presence of an unusual individuality. +For the life of me I could not quite seize +and label the peculiarities of what I felt to be a +very striking personality, but it was borne in +upon me that he was a man apart from his fellows, +a mind that followed a line leading away from +ordinary human intercourse and human interests, +<a name="page188" id="page188"></a> +and into regions that left in his atmosphere something +remote, rarefied, chilling. +</p> + +<p> +"The moment he was gone I became conscious +of two things—an intense curiosity to know more +about this man and what his real interests were, +and secondly, the fact that my skin was crawling +and that my hair had a tendency to rise." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor paused a moment here to puff hard +at his pipe, which, however, had gone out beyond +recall without the assistance of a match; and in the +deep silence, which testified to the genuine interest +of his listeners, someone poked the fire up into a +little blaze, and one or two others glanced over +their shoulders into the dark distances of the big +hall. +</p> + +<p> +"On looking back," he went on, watching the +momentary flames in the grate, "I see a short, +thick-set man of perhaps forty-five, with immense +shoulders and small, slender hands. The contrast +was noticeable, for I remember thinking that such a +giant frame and such slim finger bones hardly belonged +together. His head, too, was large and very +long, the head of an idealist beyond all question, yet +with an unusually strong development of the jaw +and chin. Here again was a singular contradiction, +though I am better able now to appreciate its full +<a name="page189" id="page189"></a> +meaning, with a greater experience in judging the +values of physiognomy. For this meant, of course, +an enthusiastic idealism balanced and kept in check +by will and judgment—elements usually deficient +in dreamers and visionaries. +</p> + +<p> +"At any rate, here was a being with probably a +very wide range of possibilities, a machine with a +pendulum that most likely had an unusual length +of swing. +</p> + +<p> +"The man's hair was exceedingly fine, and the +lines about his nose and mouth were cut as with +a delicate steel instrument in wax. His eyes I +have left to the last. They were large and quite +changeable, not in colour only, but in character, +size, and shape. Occasionally they seemed the eyes +of someone else, if you can understand what I +mean, and at the same time, in their shifting +shades of blue, green, and a nameless sort of dark +grey, there was a sinister light in them that lent +to the whole face an aspect almost alarming. +Moreover, they were the most luminous optics I +think I have ever seen in any human being. +</p> + +<p> +"There, then, at the risk of a wearisome description, +is Smith as I saw him for the first time that +winter's evening in my shabby student's rooms in +Edinburgh. And yet the real part of him, of +<a name="page190" id="page190"></a> +course, I have left untouched, for it is both indescribable +and un-get-atable. I have spoken already +of an atmosphere of warning and aloofness he +carried about with him. It is impossible further +to analyse the series of little shocks his presence +always communicated to my being; but there was +that about him which made me instantly on the +<i>qui vive</i> in his presence, every nerve alert, every +sense strained and on the watch. I do not mean +that he deliberately suggested danger, but rather +that he brought forces in his wake which automatically +warned the nervous centres of my system +to be on their guard and alert. +</p> + +<p> +"Since the days of my first acquaintance with +this man I have lived through other experiences +and have seen much I cannot pretend to explain or +understand; but, so far in my life, I have only +once come across a human being who suggested a +disagreeable familiarity with unholy things, and +who made me feel uncanny and 'creepy' in his +presence; and that unenviable individual was Mr. +Smith. +</p> + +<p> +"What his occupation was during the day I +never knew. I think he slept until the sun set. +No one ever saw him on the stairs, or heard him +move in his room during the day. He was a +<a name="page191" id="page191"></a> +creature of the shadows, who apparently preferred +darkness to light. Our landlady either knew +nothing, or would say nothing. At any rate she +found no fault, and I have since wondered often +by what magic this fellow was able to convert a +common landlady of a common lodging-house into +a discreet and uncommunicative person. This +alone was a sign of genius of some sort. +</p> + +<p> +"'He's been here with me for years—long before +you come, an' I don't interfere or ask no questions +of what doesn't concern me, as long as people pays +their rent,' was the only remark on the subject +that I ever succeeded in winning from that quarter, +and it certainly told me nothing nor gave me any +encouragement to ask for further information. +</p> + +<p> +"Examinations, however, and the general excitement +of a medical student's life for a time put Mr. +Smith completely out of my head. For a long +period he did not call upon me again, and for my +part, I felt no courage to return his unsolicited +visit. +</p> + +<p> +"Just then, however, there came a change in the +fortunes of those who controlled my very limited +income, and I was obliged to give up my ground-floor +and move aloft to more modest chambers +on the top of the house. Here I was directly +<a name="page192" id="page192"></a> +over Smith, and had to pass his door to reach +my own. +</p> + +<p> +"It so happened that about this time I was +frequently called out at all hours of the night for +the maternity cases which a fourth-year student +takes at a certain period of his studies, and on +returning from one of these visits at about two +o'clock in the morning I was surprised to hear the +sound of voices as I passed his door. A peculiar +sweet odour, too, not unlike the smell of incense, +penetrated into the passage. +</p> + +<p> +"I went upstairs very quietly, wondering what +was going on there at this hour of the morning. +To my knowledge Smith never had visitors. For +a moment I hesitated outside the door with one +foot on the stairs. All my interest in this strange +man revived, and my curiosity rose to a point not +far from action. At last I might learn something +of the habits of this lover of the night and the +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"The sound of voices was plainly audible, Smith's +predominating so much that I never could catch +more than points of sound from the other, penetrating +now and then the steady stream of his voice. +Not a single word reached me, at least, not a word +that I could understand, though the voice was +<a name="page193" id="page193"></a> +loud and distinct, and it was only afterwards that +I realised he must have been speaking in a foreign +language. +</p> + +<p> +"The sound of footsteps, too, was equally distinct. +Two persons were moving about the room, passing +and repassing the door, one of them a light, agile +person, and the other ponderous and somewhat +awkward. Smith's voice went on incessantly with +its odd, monotonous droning, now loud, now soft, +as he crossed and re-crossed the floor. The other +person was also on the move, but in a different and +less regular fashion, for I heard rapid steps that +seemed to end sometimes in stumbling, and quick +sudden movements that brought up with a violent +lurching against the wall or furniture. +</p> + +<p> +"As I listened to Smith's voice, moreover, I +began to feel afraid. There was something in the +sound that made me feel intuitively he was in a +tight place, and an impulse stirred faintly in me—very +faintly, I admit—to knock at the door and +inquire if he needed help. +</p> + +<p> +"But long before the impulse could translate +itself into an act, or even before it had been +properly weighed and considered by the mind, +I heard a voice close beside me in the air, a sort +of hushed whisper which I am certain was Smith +<a name="page194" id="page194"></a> +speaking, though the sound did not seem to have +come to me through the door. It was close in +my very ear, as though he stood beside me, and +it gave me such a start, that I clutched the +banisters to save myself from stepping backwards +and making a clatter on the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +"'There is nothing you can do to help me,' it +said distinctly, 'and you will be much safer in your +own room.' +</p> + +<p> +"I am ashamed to this day of the pace at which +I covered the flight of stairs in the darkness to +the top floor, and of the shaking hand with which +I lit my candles and bolted the door. But, there +it is, just as it happened. +</p> + +<p> +"This midnight episode, so odd and yet so +trivial in itself, fired me with more curiosity than +ever about my fellow-lodger. It also made me +connect him in my mind with a sense of fear and +distrust. I never saw him, yet I was often, and +uncomfortably, aware of his presence in the upper +regions of that gloomy lodging-house. Smith and +his secret mode of life and mysterious pursuits, +somehow contrived to awaken in my being a +line of reflection that disturbed my comfortable +condition of ignorance. I never saw him, as I +have said, and exchanged no sort of communication +<a name="page195" id="page195"></a> +with him, yet it seemed to me that his mind was +in contact with mine, and some of the strange +forces of his atmosphere filtered through into my +being and disturbed my equilibrium. Those upper +floors became haunted for me after dark, and, +though outwardly our lives never came into +contact, I became unwillingly involved in certain +pursuits on which his mind was centred. I felt +that he was somehow making use of me against +my will, and by methods which passed my +comprehension. +</p> + +<p> +"I was at that time, moreover, in the heavy, +unquestioning state of materialism which is +common to medical students when they begin to +understand something of the human anatomy +and nervous system, and jump at once to the +conclusion that they control the universe and +hold in their forceps the last word of life +and death. I 'knew it all,' and regarded a belief +in anything beyond matter as the wanderings +of weak, or at best, untrained minds. And +this condition of mind, of course, added to the +strength of this upsetting fear which emanated +from the floor below and began slowly to take +possession of me. +</p> + +<p> +"Though I kept no notes of the subsequent +<a name="page196" id="page196"></a> +events in this matter, they made too deep an +impression for me ever to forget the sequence in +which they occurred. Without difficulty I can +recall the next step in the adventure with Smith, +for adventure it rapidly grew to be." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor stopped a moment and laid his pipe +on the table behind him before continuing. The +fire had burned low, and no one stirred to poke it. +The silence in the great hall was so deep that +when the speaker's pipe touched the table the +sound woke audible echoes at the far end among +the shadows. +</p> + +<p> +"One evening, while I was reading, the door +of my room opened and Smith came in. He made +no attempt at ceremony. It was after ten o'clock +and I was tired, but the presence of the man +immediately galvanised me into activity. My +attempts at ordinary politeness he thrust on one +side at once, and began asking me to vocalise, and +then pronounce for him, certain Hebrew words; +and when this was done he abruptly inquired if +I was not the fortunate possessor of a very rare +Rabbinical Treatise, which he named. +</p> + +<p> +"How he knew that I possessed this book +puzzled me exceedingly; but I was still more +surprised to see him cross the room and take it +<a name="page197" id="page197"></a> +out of my book-shelf almost before I had had +time to answer in the affirmative. Evidently he +knew exactly where it was kept. This excited +my curiosity beyond all bounds, and I immediately +began asking him questions; and though, out of +sheer respect for the man, I put them very +delicately to him, and almost by way of mere +conversation, he had only one reply for the lot. +He would look up at me from the pages of the +book with an expression of complete comprehension +on his extraordinary features, would bow his head +a little and say very gravely— +</p> + +<p> +"'That, of course, is a perfectly proper question,'—which +was absolutely all I could ever get out +of him. +</p> + +<p> +"On this particular occasion he stayed with +me perhaps ten or fifteen minutes. Then he went +quickly downstairs to his room with my Hebrew +Treatise in his hand, and I heard him close and +bolt his door. +</p> + +<p> +"But a few moments later, before I had time +to settle down to my book again, or to recover +from the surprise his visit had caused me, I heard +the door open, and there stood Smith once again +beside my chair. He made no excuse for his +second interruption, but bent his head down to +<a name="page198" id="page198"></a> +the level of my reading lamp and peered across +the flame straight into my eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"'I hope,' he whispered, 'I hope you are never +disturbed at night?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Eh?' I stammered, 'disturbed at night? Oh +no, thanks, at least, not that I know of—' +</p> + +<p> +"'I'm glad,' he replied gravely, appearing not to +notice my confusion and surprise at his question. +'But, remember, should it ever be the case, please +let me know at once.' +</p> + +<p> +"And he was gone down the stairs and into +his room again. +</p> + +<p> +"For some minutes I sat reflecting upon his +strange behaviour. He was not mad, I argued, +but was the victim of some harmless delusion that +had gradually grown upon him as a result of his +solitary mode of life; and from the books he used, +I judged that it had something to do with mediæval +magic, or some system of ancient Hebrew mysticism. +The words he asked me to pronounce for him were +probably 'Words of Power,' which, when uttered +with the vehemence of a strong will behind them, +were supposed to produce physical results, or set +up vibrations in one's own inner being that had +the effect of a partial lifting of the veil. +</p> + +<p> +"I sat thinking about the man, and his way +<a name="page199" id="page199"></a> +of living, and the probable effects in the long-run +of his dangerous experiments, and I can recall +perfectly well the sensation of disappointment +that crept over me when I realised that I had +labelled his particular form of aberration, and +that my curiosity would therefore no longer be +excited. +</p> + +<p> +"For some time I had been sitting alone with +these reflections—it may have been ten minutes +or it may have been half an hour—when I was +aroused from my reverie by the knowledge that +someone was again in the room standing close +beside my chair. My first thought was that Smith +had come back again in his swift, unaccountable +manner, but almost at the same moment I realised +that this could not be the case at all. For the +door faced my position, and it certainly had not +been opened again. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet, someone was in the room, moving +cautiously to and fro, watching me, almost +touching me. I was as sure of it as I was of +myself, and though at the moment I do not think +I was actually afraid, I am bound to admit that +a certain weakness came over me and that I felt +that strange disinclination for action which is +probably the beginning of the horrible paralysis +<a name="page200" id="page200"></a> +of real terror. I should have been glad to hide +myself, if that had been possible, to cower into +a corner, or behind a door, or anywhere so that I +could not be watched and observed. +</p> + +<p> +"But, overcoming my nervousness with an +effort of the will, I got up quickly out of my +chair and held the reading lamp aloft so that it +shone into all the corners like a searchlight. +</p> + +<p> +"The room was utterly empty! It was utterly +empty, at least, to the <i>eye</i>, but to the nerves, and +especially to that combination of sense perception +which is made up by all the senses acting together, +and by no one in particular, there was a person +standing there at my very elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"I say 'person,' for I can think of no appropriate +word. For, if it <i>was</i> a human being, I can only +affirm that I had the overwhelming conviction that +it was <i>not</i>, but that it was some form of life wholly +unknown to me both as to its essence and its nature. +A sensation of gigantic force and power came with +it, and I remember vividly to this day my terror on +realising that I was close to an invisible being who +could crush me as easily as I could crush a fly, and +who could see my every movement while itself +remaining invisible. +</p> + +<p> +"To this terror was added the certain knowledge +<a name="page201" id="page201"></a> +that the 'being' kept in my proximity for a definite +purpose. And that this purpose had some direct +bearing upon my well-being, indeed upon my life, +I was equally convinced; for I became aware of +a sensation of growing lassitude as though the +vitality were being steadily drained out of my +body. My heart began to beat irregularly at first, +then faintly. I was conscious, even within a few +minutes, of a general drooping of the powers of life +in the whole system, an ebbing away of self-control, +and a distinct approach of drowsiness and +torpor. +</p> + +<p> +"The power to move, or to think out any mode +of resistance, was fast leaving me, when there rose, +in the distance as it were, a tremendous commotion. +A door opened with a clatter, and I heard the +peremptory and commanding tones of a human +voice calling aloud in a language I could not +comprehend. It was Smith, my fellow-lodger, +calling up the stairs; and his voice had not sounded +for more than a few seconds, when I felt something +withdrawn from my presence, from my person, +indeed from my <i>very skin</i>. It seemed as if there +was a rushing of air and some large creature swept +by me at about the level of my shoulders. +Instantly the pressure on my heart was relieved, +<a name="page202" id="page202"></a> +and the atmosphere seemed to resume its normal +condition. +</p> + +<p> +"Smith's door closed quietly downstairs, as I put +the lamp down with trembling hands. What had +happened I do not know; only, I was alone again +and my strength was returning as rapidly as it +had left me. +</p> + +<p> +"I went across the room and examined myself +in the glass. The skin was very pale, and the eyes +dull. My temperature, I found, was a little below +normal and my pulse faint and irregular. But +these smaller signs of disturbance were as nothing +compared with the feeling I had—though no outward +signs bore testimony to the fact—that I had +narrowly escaped a real and ghastly catastrophe. +I felt shaken, somehow, shaken to the very roots of +my being." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor rose from his chair and crossed over +to the dying fire, so that no one could see the +expression on his face as he stood with his back to +the grate, and continued his weird tale. +</p> + +<p> +"It would be wearisome," he went on in a lower +voice, looking over our heads as though he still +saw the dingy top floor of that haunted Edinburgh +lodging-house; "it would be tedious for me at +this length of time to analyse my feelings, or +<a name="page203" id="page203"></a> +attempt to reproduce for you the thorough examination +to which I endeavoured then to subject my +whole being, intellectual, emotional, and physical. +I need only mention the dominant emotion with +which this curious episode left me—the indignant +anger against myself that I could ever have lost +my self-control enough to come under the sway of +so gross and absurd a delusion. This protest, +however, I remember making with all the +emphasis possible. And I also remember noting +that it brought me very little satisfaction, for +it was the protest of my reason only, when all +the rest of my being was up in arms against its +conclusions. +</p> + +<p> +"My dealings with the 'delusion,' however, were +not yet over for the night; for very early next +morning, somewhere about three o'clock, I was +awakened by a curiously stealthy noise in the +room, and the next minute there followed a crash +as if all my books had been swept bodily from +their shelf on to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"But this time I was not frightened. Cursing +the disturbance with all the resounding and harmless +words I could accumulate, I jumped out of bed +and lit the candle in a second, and in the first +dazzle of the flaring match—but before the wick +<a name="page204" id="page204"></a> +had time to catch—I was certain I <i>saw</i> a dark +grey shadow, of ungainly shape, and with something +more or less like a human head, drive rapidly +past the side of the wall farthest from me and +disappear into the gloom by the angle of the +door. +</p> + +<p> +"I waited one single second to be sure the candle +was alight, and then dashed after it, but before I +had gone two steps, my foot stumbled against +something hard piled up on the carpet and I only +just saved myself from falling headlong. I picked +myself up and found that all the books from what +I called my 'language shelf' were strewn across +the floor. The room, meanwhile, as a minute's +search revealed, was quite empty. I looked in +every corner and behind every stick of furniture, +and a student's bedroom on a top floor, costing +twelve shillings a week, did not hold many available +hiding-places, as you may imagine. +</p> + +<p> +"The crash, however, was explained. Some very +practical and physical force had thrown the books +from their resting-place. That, at least, was +beyond all doubt. And as I replaced them on the +shelf and noted that not one was missing, I busied +myself mentally with the sore problem of how the +agent of this little practical joke had gained access +<a name="page205" id="page205"></a> +to my room, and then escaped again. <i>For my +door was locked and bolted.</i> +</p> + +<p> +"Smith's odd question as to whether I was +disturbed in the night, and his warning injunction +to let him know at once if such were the case, now +of course returned to affect me as I stood there in +the early morning, cold and shivering on the +carpet; but I realised at the same moment how +impossible it would be for me to admit that a more +than usually vivid nightmare could have any +connection with himself. I would rather stand a +hundred of these mysterious visitations than consult +such a man as to their possible cause. +</p> + +<p> +"A knock at the door interrupted my reflections, +and I gave a start that sent the candle grease +flying. +</p> + +<p> +"'Let me in,' came in Smith's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I unlocked the door. He came in fully dressed. +His face wore a curious pallor. It seemed to me +to be under the skin and to shine through and +almost make it luminous. His eyes were exceedingly +bright. +</p> + +<p> +"I was wondering what in the world to say to +him, or how he would explain his visit at such an +hour, when he closed the door behind him and +came close up to me—uncomfortably close. +<a name="page206" id="page206"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"'You should have called me at once,' he said in +his whispering voice, fixing his great eyes on my +face. +</p> + +<p> +"I stammered something about an awful dream, +but he ignored my remark utterly, and I caught +his eye wandering next—if any movement of those +optics can be described as 'wandering'—to the +book-shelf. I watched him, unable to move my +gaze from his person. The man fascinated me +horribly for some reason. Why, in the devil's +name, was he up and dressed at three in the +morning? How did he know anything had +happened unusual in my room? Then his whisper +began again. +</p> + +<p> +"'It's your amazing vitality that causes you +this annoyance,' he said, shifting his eyes back to +mine. +</p> + +<p> +"I gasped. Something in his voice or manner +turned my blood into ice. +</p> + +<p> +"'That's the real attraction,' he went on. 'But +if this continues one of us will have to leave, you +know.' +</p> + +<p> +"I positively could not find a word to say in +reply. The channels of speech dried up within me. +I simply stared and wondered what he would say +next. I watched him in a sort of dream, and as +<a name="page207" id="page207"></a> +far as I can remember, he asked me to promise to +call him sooner another time, and then began to +walk round the room, uttering strange sounds, and +making signs with his arms and hands until he +reached the door. Then he was gone in a second, +and I had closed and locked the door behind him. +</p> + +<p> +"After this, the Smith adventure drew rapidly +to a climax. It was a week or two later, and I +was coming home between two and three in the +morning from a maternity case, certain features of +which for the time being had very much taken +possession of my mind, so much so, indeed, that I +passed Smith's door without giving him a single +thought. +</p> + +<p> +"The gas jet on the landing was still burning, +but so low that it made little impression on the +waves of deep shadow that lay across the stairs. +Overhead, the faintest possible gleam of grey +showed that the morning was not far away. A +few stars shone down through the sky-light. The +house was still as the grave, and the only sound to +break the silence was the rushing of the wind +round the walls and over the roof. But this was a +fitful sound, suddenly rising and as suddenly falling +away again, and it only served to intensify the +silence. +<a name="page208" id="page208"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"I had already reached my own landing when I +gave a violent start. It was automatic, almost a +reflex action in fact, for it was only when I caught +myself fumbling at the door handle and thinking +where I could conceal myself quickest that I realised +a voice had sounded close beside me in the air. +It was the same voice I had heard before, and it +seemed to me to be calling for help. And yet the +very same minute I pushed on into the room, +determined to disregard it, and seeking to persuade +myself it was the creaking of the boards under my +weight or the rushing noise of the wind that had +deceived me. +</p> + +<p> +"But hardly had I reached the table where +the candles stood when the sound was unmistakably +repeated: 'Help! help!' And this time +it was accompanied by what I can only describe +as a vivid tactile hallucination. I was +touched: the <i>skin</i> of my arm was clutched by +fingers. +</p> + +<p> +"Some compelling force sent me headlong downstairs +as if the haunting forces of the whole world +were at my heels. At Smith's door I paused. The +force of his previous warning injunction to seek his +aid without delay acted suddenly and I leant my +whole weight against the panels, little dreaming +<a name="page209" id="page209"></a> +that I should be called upon to give help rather +than to receive it. +</p> + +<p> +"The door yielded at once, and I burst into a +room that was so full of a choking vapour, moving +in slow clouds, that at first I could distinguish +nothing at all but a set of what seemed to be huge +shadows passing in and out of the mist. Then, +gradually, I perceived that a red lamp on the +mantelpiece gave all the light there was, and that +the room which I now entered for the first time +was almost empty of furniture. +</p> + +<p> +"The carpet was rolled back and piled in a heap +in the corner, and upon the white boards of the +floor I noticed a large circle drawn in black of +some material that emitted a faint glowing light +and was apparently smoking. Inside this circle, +as well as at regular intervals outside it, were +curious-looking designs, also traced in the same +black, smoking substance. These, too, seemed to +emit a feeble light of their own. +</p> + +<p> +"My first impression on entering the room had +been that it was full of—<i>people</i>, I was going to +say; but that hardly expresses my meaning. +<i>Beings</i>, they certainly were, but it was borne in +upon me beyond the possibility of doubt, that they +were not human beings. That I had caught a +<a name="page210" id="page210"></a> +momentary glimpse of living, intelligent entities I +can never doubt, but I am equally convinced, +though I cannot prove it, that these entities were +from some other scheme of evolution altogether, +and had nothing to do with the ordinary human +life, either incarnate or discarnate. +</p> + +<p> +"But, whatever they were, the visible appearance +of them was exceedingly fleeting. I no longer saw +anything, though I still felt convinced of their +immediate presence. They were, moreover, of the +same order of life as the visitant in my bedroom of +a few nights before, and their proximity to my +atmosphere in numbers, instead of singly as before, +conveyed to my mind something that was quite +terrible and overwhelming. I fell into a violent +trembling, and the perspiration poured from my +face in streams. +</p> + +<p> +"They were in constant motion about me. They +stood close to my side; moved behind me; brushed +past my shoulder; stirred the hair on my forehead; +and circled round me without ever actually touching +me, yet always pressing closer and closer. Especially +in the air just over my head there seemed +ceaseless movement, and it was accompanied by a +confused noise of whispering and sighing that +threatened every moment to become articulate in +<a name="page211" id="page211"></a> +words. To my intense relief, however, I heard no +distinct words, and the noise continued more like +the rising and falling of the wind than anything +else I can imagine. +</p> + +<p> +"But the characteristic of these 'Beings' that +impressed me most strongly at the time, and of +which I have carried away the most permanent +recollection, was that each one of them possessed +what seemed to be a <i>vibrating centre</i> which impelled +it with tremendous force and caused a rapid whirling +motion of the atmosphere as it passed me. +The air was full of these little vortices of whirring, +rotating force, and whenever one of them pressed +me too closely I felt as if the nerves in that +particular portion of my body had been literally +drawn out, absolutely depleted of vitality, and then +immediately replaced—but replaced dead, flabby, +useless. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, suddenly, for the first time my eyes fell +upon Smith. He was crouching against the wall +on my right, in an attitude that was obviously +defensive, and it was plain he was in extremities. +The terror on his face was pitiable, but at the same +time there was another expression about the tightly +clenched teeth and mouth which showed that he +had not lost all control of himself. He wore the +<a name="page212" id="page212"></a> +most resolute expression I have ever seen on a +human countenance, and, though for the moment at +a fearful disadvantage, he looked like a man who +had confidence in himself, and, in spite of the +working of fear, was waiting his opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +"For my part, I was face to face with a situation +so utterly beyond my knowledge and comprehension, +that I felt as helpless as a child, and as +useless. +</p> + +<p> +"'Help me back—quick—into that circle,' I +heard him half cry, half whisper to me across the +moving vapours. +</p> + +<p> +"My only value appears to have been that I +was not afraid to act. Knowing nothing of the +forces I was dealing with I had no idea of the +deadly perils risked, and I sprang forward and +caught him by the arms. He threw all his weight +in my direction, and by our combined efforts his +body left the wall and lurched across the floor +towards the circle. +</p> + +<p> +"Instantly there descended upon us, out of the +empty air of that smoke-laden room, a force which +I can only compare to the pushing, driving power +of a great wind pent up within a narrow space. +It was almost explosive in its effect, and it seemed +to operate upon all parts of my body equally. It +<a name="page213" id="page213"></a> +fell upon us with a rushing noise that filled my +ears and made me think for a moment the very +walls and roof of the building had been torn asunder. +Under its first blow we staggered back against the +wall, and I understood plainly that its purpose was +to prevent us getting back into the circle in the +middle of the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Pouring with perspiration, and breathless, +with every muscle strained to the very utmost, +we at length managed to get to the edge of the +circle, and at this moment, so great was the +opposing force, that I felt myself actually torn +from Smith's arms, lifted from my feet, and +twirled round in the direction of the windows as if +the wheel of some great machine had caught my +clothes and was tearing me to destruction in its +revolution. +</p> + +<p> +"But, even as I fell, bruised and breathless, +against the wall, I saw Smith firmly upon his feet +in the circle and slowly rising again to an upright +position. My eyes never left his figure once in the +next few minutes. +</p> + +<p> +"He drew himself up to his full height. His +great shoulders squared themselves. His head was +thrown back a little, and as I looked I saw the +expression on his face change swiftly from fear to +<a name="page214" id="page214"></a> +one of absolute command. He looked steadily +round the room and then his voice began to <i>vibrate</i>. +At first in a low tone, it gradually rose till it +assumed the same volume and intensity I had +heard that night when he called up the stairs into +my room. +</p> + +<p> +"It was a curiously increasing sound, more like +the swelling of an instrument than a human voice; +and as it grew in power and filled the room, I +became aware that a great change was being +effected slowly and surely. The confusion of noise +and rushings of air fell into the roll of long, +steady vibrations not unlike those caused by the +deeper pedals of an organ. The movements in the +air became less violent, then grew decidedly +weaker, and finally ceased altogether. The whisperings +and sighings became fainter and fainter, +till at last I could not hear them at all; and, +strangest of all, the light emitted by the circle, as +well as by the designs round it, increased to a +steady glow, casting their radiance upwards with +the weirdest possible effect upon his features. +Slowly, by the power of his voice, behind which lay +undoubtedly a genuine knowledge of the occult +manipulation of sound, this man dominated the +forces that had escaped from their proper sphere, +<a name="page215" id="page215"></a> +until at length the room was reduced to silence +and perfect order again. +</p> + +<p> +"Judging by the immense relief which also +communicated itself to my nerves I then felt that +the crisis was over and Smith was wholly master +of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +"But hardly had I begun to congratulate myself +upon this result, and to gather my scattered senses +about me, when, uttering a loud cry, I saw him leap +out of the circle and fling himself into the air—as +it seemed to me, into the empty air. Then, even +while holding my breath for dread of the crash he +was bound to come upon the floor, I saw him strike +with a dull thud against a solid body in mid-air, +and the next instant he was wrestling with some +ponderous thing that was absolutely invisible to +me, and the room shook with the struggle. +</p> + +<p> +"To and fro <i>they</i> swayed, sometimes lurching +in one direction, sometimes in another, and +always in horrible proximity to myself, as I +leaned trembling against the wall and watched +the encounter. +</p> + +<p> +"It lasted at most but a short minute or two, +ending as suddenly as it had begun. Smith, with +an unexpected movement, threw up his arms with +a cry of relief. At the same instant there was a +<a name="page216" id="page216"></a> +wild, tearing shriek in the air beside me and +something rushed past us with a noise like the +passage of a flock of big birds. Both windows +rattled as if they would break away from their +sashes. Then a sense of emptiness and peace +suddenly came over the room, and I knew that +all was over. +</p> + +<p> +"Smith, his face exceedingly white, but otherwise +strangely composed, turned to me at once. +</p> + +<p> +"'God!—if you hadn't come—You deflected +the stream; broke it up—' he whispered. 'You +saved me.'" +</p> + +<p> +The doctor made a long pause. Presently he +felt for his pipe in the darkness, groping over the +table behind us with both hands. No one spoke +for a bit, but all dreaded the sudden glare that +would come when he struck the match. The fire +was nearly out and the great hall was pitch dark. +</p> + +<p> +But the story-teller did not strike that match. +He was merely gaining time for some hidden +reason of his own. And presently he went on +with his tale in a more subdued voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I quite forget," he said, "how I got back to my +own room. I only know that I lay with two +lighted candles for the rest of the night, and the +first thing I did in the morning was to let the +<a name="page217" id="page217"></a> +landlady know I was leaving her house at the end +of the week. +</p> + +<p> +"Smith still has my Rabbinical Treatise. At +least he did not return it to me at the time, and +I have never seen him since to ask for it." +<a name="page218" id="page218"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter8" id="chapter8">A SUSPICIOUS GIFT</a></h2> + + +<p> +Blake had been in very low water for months—almost +under water part of the time—due to +circumstances he was fond of saying were no fault +of his own; and as he sat writing in his room +on "third floor back" of a New York boarding-house, +part of his mind was busily occupied in +wondering when his luck was going to turn +again. +</p> + +<p> +It was his room only in the sense that he paid +the rent. Two friends, one a little Frenchman and +the other a big Dane, shared it with him, both +hoping eventually to contribute something towards +expenses, but so far not having accomplished this +result. They had two beds only, the third being +a mattress they slept upon in turns, a week at a +time. A good deal of their irregular "feeding" +consisted of oatmeal, potatoes, and sometimes eggs, +all of which they cooked on a strange utensil they +had contrived to fix into the gas jet. Occasionally, +when dinner failed them altogether, they swallowed +<a name="page219" id="page219"></a> +a little raw rice and drank hot water from the +bathroom on the top of it, and then made a wild +race for bed so as to get to sleep while the sensation +of false repletion was still there. For sleep +and hunger are slight acquaintances as they well +knew. Fortunately all New York houses are +supplied with hot air, and they only had to open +a grating in the wall to get a plentiful, if not a +wholesome amount of heat. +</p> + +<p> +Though loneliness in a big city is a real punishment, +as they had severally learnt to their cost, +their experiences, three in a small room for +several months, had revealed to them horrors of +quite another kind, and their nerves had suffered +according to the temperament of each. But, on +this particular evening, as Blake sat scribbling by +the only window that was not cracked, the Dane +and the Frenchman, his companions in adversity, +were in wonderful luck. They had both been +asked out to a restaurant to dine with a friend +who also held out to one of them a chance of work +and remuneration. They would not be back till +late, and when they did come they were pretty sure +to bring in supplies of one kind or another. For +the Frenchman never could resist the offer of a +glass of absinthe, and this meant that he would be +<a name="page220" id="page220"></a> +able to help himself plentifully from the free-lunch +counters, with which all New York bars +are furnished, and to which any purchaser of a +drink is entitled to help himself and devour on the +spot or carry away casually in his hand for consumption +elsewhere. Thousands of unfortunate +men get their sole subsistence in this way in New +York, and experience soon teaches where, for the +price of a single drink, a man can take away +almost a meal of chip potatoes, sausage, bits of +bread, and even eggs. The Frenchman and the +Dane knew their way about, and Blake looked +forward to a supper more or less substantial before +pulling his mattress out of the cupboard and +turning in upon the floor for the night. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile he could enjoy a quiet and lonely +evening with the room all to himself. +</p> + +<p> +In the daytime he was a reporter on an evening +newspaper of sensational and lying habits. His +work was chiefly in the police courts; and in his +spare hours at night, when not too tired or too +empty, he wrote sketches and stories for the +magazines that very rarely saw the light of day on +their printed and paid-for sentences. On this +particular occasion he was deep in a most involved +tale of a psychological character, and had just +<a name="page221" id="page221"></a> +worked his way into a sentence, or set of sentences, +that completely baffled and muddled him. +</p> + +<p> +He was fairly out of his depth, and his brain +was too poorly supplied with blood to invent a +way out again. The story would have been +interesting had he written it simply, keeping to +facts and feelings, and not diving into difficult +analysis of motive and character which was quite +beyond him. For it was largely autobiographical, +and was meant to describe the adventures of a +young Englishman who had come to grief in the +usual manner on a Canadian farm, had then subsequently +become bar-keeper, sub-editor on a Methodist +magazine, a teacher of French and German to +clerks at twenty-five cents per hour, a model for +artists, a super on the stage, and, finally, a +wanderer to the goldfields. +</p> + +<p> +Blake scratched his head, and dipped the pen in +the inkpot, stared out through the blindless +windows, and sighed deeply. His thoughts kept +wandering to food, beefsteak and steaming vegetables. +The smell of cooking that came from a +lower floor through the broken windows was a +constant torment to him. He pulled himself +together and again attacked the problem. +</p> + +<p> +" . . . for with some people," he wrote, "the +<a name="page222" id="page222"></a> +imagination is so vivid as to be almost an extension +of consciousness. . . ." But here he stuck +absolutely. He was not quite sure what he meant +by the words, and how to finish the sentence +puzzled him into blank inaction. It was a difficult +point to decide, for it seemed to come in appropriately +at this point in his story, and he did not +know whether to leave it as it stood, change it +round a bit, or take it out altogether. It might +just spoil its chances of being accepted: editors +were such clever men. But, to rewrite the +sentence was a grind, and he was so tired and +sleepy. After all, what did it matter? People +who were clever would force a meaning into it; +people who were not clever would pretend—he +knew of no other classes of readers. He would let +it stay, and go on with the action of the story. +He put his head in his hands and began to think +hard. +</p> + +<p> +His mind soon passed from thought to reverie. +He fell to wondering when his friends would find +work and relieve him of the burden—he acknowledged +it as such—of keeping them, and of letting +another man wear his best clothes on alternate +Sundays. He wondered when his "luck" would +turn. There were one or two influential people in +<a name="page223" id="page223"></a> +New York whom he could go and see if he had a +dress suit and the other conventional uniforms. +His thoughts ran on far ahead, and at the same +time, by a sort of double process, far behind as well. +His home in the "old country" rose up before him; +he saw the lawn and the cedars in sunshine; he +looked through the familiar windows and saw the +clean, swept rooms. His story began to suffer; +the psychological masterpiece would not make +much progress unless he pulled up and dragged +his thoughts back to the treadmill. But he no +longer cared; once he had got as far as that cedar +with the sunshine on it, he never could get back +again. For all he cared, the troublesome sentence +might run away and get into someone else's pages, +or be snuffed out altogether. +</p> + +<p> +There came a gentle knock at the door, and +Blake started. The knock was repeated louder. +Who in the world could it be at this late hour of +the night? On the floor above, he remembered, +there lived another Englishman, a foolish, second-rate +creature, who sometimes came in and made +himself objectionable with endless and silly chatter. +But he was an Englishman for all that, and Blake +always tried to treat him with politeness, realising +that he was lonely in a strange land. But to-night, +<a name="page224" id="page224"></a> +of all people in the world, he did not want to be +bored with Perry's cackle, as he called it, and the +"Come in" he gave in answer to the second knock +had no very cordial sound of welcome in it. +</p> + +<p> +However, the door opened in response, and the +man came in. Blake did not turn round at once, +and the other advanced to the centre of the room, +but <i>without speaking</i>. Then Blake knew it was +not his enemy, Perry, and turned round. +</p> + +<p> +He saw a man of about forty standing in the +middle of the carpet, but standing sideways so +that he did not present a full face. He wore an +overcoat buttoned up to the neck, and on the felt +hat which he held in front of him fresh rain-drops +glistened. In his other hand he carried a small +black bag. Blake gave him a good look, and came +to the conclusion that he might be a secretary, or +a chief clerk, or a confidential man of sorts. He +was a shabby-respectable-looking person. This +was the sum-total of the first impression, gained +the moment his eyes took in that it was <i>not</i> Perry; +the second impression was less pleasant, and +reported at once that something was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +Though otherwise young and inexperienced, +Blake—thanks, or curses, to the police court +training—knew more about common criminal +<a name="page225" id="page225"></a> +blackguardism than most men of fifty, and he +recognised that there was somewhere a suggestion +of this undesirable world about the man. But +there was more than this. There was something +singular about him, something far out of the +common, though for the life of him Blake could +not say wherein it lay. The fellow was out of the +ordinary, and in some very undesirable manner. +</p> + +<p> +All this, that takes so long to describe, Blake +saw with the first and second glance. The man at +once began to speak in a quiet and respectful +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you Mr. Blake?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I am." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Arthur Blake?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Arthur <i>Herbert</i> Blake?" persisted the +other, with emphasis on the middle name. +</p> + +<p> +"That is my full name," Blake answered simply, +adding, as he remembered his manners; "but won't +you sit down, first, please?" +</p> + +<p> +The man advanced with a curious sideways +motion like a crab and took a seat on the edge of +the sofa. He put his hat on the floor at his feet, +but still kept the bag in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I come to you from a well-wisher," he went on +<a name="page226" id="page226"></a> +in oily tones, without lifting his eyes. Blake, in +his mind, ran quickly over all the people he knew +in New York who might possibly have sent such a +man, while waiting for him to supply the name. +But the man had come to a full stop and was +waiting too. +</p> + +<p> +"A well-wisher of <i>mine</i>?" repeated Blake, not +knowing quite what else to say. +</p> + +<p> +"Just so," replied the other, still with his eyes +on the floor. "A well-wisher of yours." +</p> + +<p> +"A man or—" he felt himself blushing, "or +a woman?" +</p> + +<p> +"That," said the man shortly, "I cannot tell +you." +</p> + +<p> +"You can't tell me!" exclaimed the other, +wondering what was coming next, and who in the +world this mysterious well-wisher could be who +sent so discreet and mysterious a messenger. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell you the name," replied the man +firmly. "Those are my instructions. But I bring +you something from this person, and I am to give +it to you, to take a receipt for it, and then to go +away without answering any questions." +</p> + +<p> +Blake stared very hard. The man, however, +never raised his eyes above the level of the second +china knob on the chest of drawers opposite. The +<a name="page227" id="page227"></a> +giving of a receipt sounded like money. Could it +be that some of his influential friends had heard of +his plight? There were possibilities that made his +heart beat. At length, however, he found his +tongue, for this strange creature was determined +apparently to say nothing more until he had heard +from him. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, what have you got for me, please?" he +asked bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +By way of answer the man proceeded to open +the bag. He took out a parcel wrapped loosely in +brown paper, and about the size of a large book. +It was tied with string, and the man seemed +unnecessarily long untying the knot. When at +last the string was off and the paper unfolded, +there appeared a series of smaller packages inside. +The man took them out very carefully, almost as if +they had been alive, Blake thought, and set them +in a row upon his knees. They were dollar +bills. Blake, all in a flutter, craned his neck +forward a little to try and make out their +denomination. He read plainly the figures 100. +</p> + +<p> +"There are ten thousand dollars here," said the +man quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The other could not suppress a little cry. +</p> + +<p> +"And they are for you." +<a name="page228" id="page228"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Blake simply gasped. "Ten thousand dollars!" +he repeated, a queer feeling growing up in his +throat. "<i>Ten thousand.</i> Are you sure? I mean—you +mean they are for <i>me</i>?" he stammered. +He felt quite silly with excitement, and grew +more so with every minute, as the man maintained +a perfect silence. Was it not a dream? +Wouldn't the man put them back in the bag +presently and say it was a mistake, and they +were meant for somebody else? He could not +believe his eyes or his ears. Yet, in a sense, +it was possible. He had read of such things in +books, and even come across them in his experience +of the courts—the erratic and generous philanthropist +who is determined to do his good deed and +to get no thanks or acknowledgment for it. Still, +it seemed almost incredible. His troubles began to +melt away like bubbles in the sun; he thought of +the other fellows when they came in, and what he +would have to tell them; he thought of the German +landlady and the arrears of rent, of regular food +and clean linen, and books and music, of the chance +of getting into some respectable business, of—well, +of as many things as it is possible to think of +when excitement and surprise fling wide open the +gates of the imagination. +<a name="page229" id="page229"></a> +</p> + +<p> +The man, meanwhile, began quietly to count +over the packages aloud from one to ten, and +then to count the bills in each separate packet, +also from one to ten. Yes, there were ten little +heaps, each containing ten bills of a hundred-dollar +denomination. That made ten thousand dollars. +Blake had never seen so much money in a single +lump in his life before; and for many months of +privation and discomfort he had not known the +"feel" of a twenty-dollar note, much less of a +hundred-dollar one. He heard them crackle under +the man's fingers, and it was like crisp laughter in +his ears. The bills were evidently new and unused. +</p> + +<p> +But, side by side with the excitement caused by +the shock of such an event, Blake's caution, acquired +by a year of vivid New York experience, was +meanwhile beginning to assert itself. It all seemed +just a little too much out of the likely order of +things to be quite right. The police courts had +taught him the amazing ingenuity of the criminal +mind, as well as something of the plots and devices +by which the unwary are beguiled into the dark +places where blackmail may be levied with impunity. +New York, as a matter of fact, just at +that time was literally undermined with the secret +ways of the blackmailers, the green-goods men, +<a name="page230" id="page230"></a> +and other police-protected abominations; and the +only weak point in the supposition that this was +part of some such proceeding was the selection +of himself—a poor newspaper reporter—as a +victim. It did seem absurd, but then the whole +thing was so out of the ordinary, and the thought +once having entered his mind, was not so easily +got rid of. Blake resolved to be very cautious. +</p> + +<p> +The man meanwhile, though he never appeared +to raise his eyes from the carpet, had been watching +him closely all the time. +</p> + +<p> +"If you will give me a receipt I'll leave the +money at once," he said, with just a vestige of +impatience in his tone, as if he were anxious to +bring the matter to a conclusion as soon as +possible. +</p> + +<p> +"But you say it is quite impossible for you to +tell me the name of my well-wisher, or why <i>she</i> +sends me such a large sum of money in this extraordinary +way?" +</p> + +<p> +"The money is sent to you because you are in +need of it," returned the other; "and it is a present +without conditions of any sort attached. You have +to give me a receipt only to satisfy the sender that +it has reached your hands. The money will never +be asked of you again." +<a name="page231" id="page231"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Blake noticed two things from this answer: +first, that the man was not to be caught into +betraying the sex of the well-wisher; and secondly, +that he was in some hurry to complete the transaction. +For he was now giving reasons, attractive +reasons, why he should accept the money and +make out the receipt. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly it flashed across his mind that if he +took the money and gave the receipt <i>before a +witness</i>, nothing very disastrous could come of +the affair. It would protect him against blackmail, +if this was, after all, a plot of some sort with +blackmail in it; whereas, if the man were a madman, +or a criminal who was getting rid of a portion +of his ill-gotten gains to divert suspicion, or if +any other improbable explanation turned out to +be the true one, there was no great harm done, +and he could hold the money till it was claimed, +or advertised for in the newspapers. His mind +rapidly ran over these possibilities, though, of +course, under the stress of excitement, he was +unable to weigh any of them properly; then he +turned to his strange visitor again and said +quietly— +</p> + +<p> +"I will take the money, although I must say it +seems to me a very unusual transaction, and I will +<a name="page232" id="page232"></a> +give you for it such a receipt as I think proper +under the circumstances." +</p> + +<p> +"A proper receipt is all I want," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean by that a receipt before a proper +witness—" +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly satisfactory," interrupted the man, +his eyes still on the carpet. "Only, it must be +dated, and headed with your address here in the +correct way." +</p> + +<p> +Blake could see no possible objection to this, +and he at once proceeded to obtain his witness. +The person he had in his mind was a Mr. Barclay, +who occupied the room above his own; an old +gentleman who had retired from business and +who, the landlady always said, was a miser, and +kept large sums secreted in his room. He was, +at any rate, a perfectly respectable man and would +make an admirable witness to a transaction of +this sort. Blake made an apology and rose to +fetch him, crossing the room in front of the sofa +where the man sat, in order to reach the door. +As he did so, he saw for the first time the +<i>other side</i> of his visitor's face, the side that +had been always so carefully turned away from +him. +</p> + +<p> +There was a broad smear of blood down the +<a name="page233" id="page233"></a> +skin from the ear to the neck. It glistened in +the gaslight. +</p> + +<p> +Blake never knew how he managed to smother +the cry that sprang to his lips, but smother it he +did. In a second he was at the door, his knees +trembling, his mind in a sudden and dreadful +turmoil. +</p> + +<p> +His main object, so far as he could recollect +afterwards, was to escape from the room as if he +had noticed nothing, so as not to arouse the other's +suspicions. The man's eyes were always on the +carpet, and probably, Blake hoped, he had not +noticed the consternation that must have been +written plainly on his face. At any rate he had +uttered no cry. +</p> + +<p> +In another second he would have been in the +passage, when suddenly he met a pair of wicked, +staring eyes fixed intently and with a cunning +smile upon his own. It was the other's face in +the mirror calmly watching his every movement. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly, all his powers of reflection flew to the +winds, and he thought only upon the desirability +of getting help at once. He tore upstairs, his +heart in his mouth. Barclay must come to his +aid. This matter was serious—perhaps horribly +serious. Taking the money, or giving a receipt, +<a name="page234" id="page234"></a> +or having anything at all to do with it became an +impossibility. Here was crime. He felt certain +of it. +</p> + +<p> +In three bounds he reached the next landing and +began to hammer at the old miser's door as if his +very life depended on it. For a long time he could +get no answer. His fists seemed to make no noise. +He might have been knocking on cotton wool, and +the thought dashed through his brain that it was +all just like the terror of a nightmare. +</p> + +<p> +Barclay, evidently, was still out, or else sound +asleep. But the other simply could not wait a +minute longer in suspense. He turned the handle +and walked into the room. At first he saw nothing +for the darkness, and made sure the owner of the +room was out; but the moment the light from the +passage began a little to disperse the gloom, he +saw the old man, to his immense relief, lying +asleep on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Blake opened the door to its widest to get more +light and then walked quickly up to the bed. He +now saw the figure more plainly, and noted that it +was dressed and lay only upon the outside of the +bed. It struck him, too, that he was sleeping in a +very odd, almost an unnatural, position. +</p> + +<p> +Something clutched at his heart as he looked +<a name="page235" id="page235"></a> +closer. He stumbled over a chair and found the +matches. Calling upon Barclay the whole time to +wake up and come downstairs with him, he +blundered across the floor, a dreadful thought in +his mind, and lit the gas over the table. It seemed +strange that there was no movement or reply to +his shouting. But it no longer seemed strange +when at length he turned, in the full glare of the +gas, and saw the old man lying huddled up into a +ghastly heap on the bed, his throat cut across from +ear to ear. +</p> + +<p> +And all over the carpet lay new dollar bills, +crisp and clean like those he had left downstairs, +and strewn about in little heaps. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Blake stood stock-still, bereft of +all power of movement. The next, his courage +returned, and he fled from the room and dashed +downstairs, taking five steps at a time. He reached +the bottom and tore along the passage to his room, +determined at any rate to seize the man and prevent +his escape till help came. +</p> + +<p> +But when he got to the end of the little landing +he found that his door had been closed. He seized +the handle, fumbling with it in his violence. It +felt slippery and kept turning under his fingers +without opening the door, and fully half a minute +<a name="page236" id="page236"></a> +passed before it yielded and let him in headlong. +</p> + +<p> +At the first glance he saw the room was empty, +and the man gone! +</p> + +<p> +Scattered upon the carpet lay a number of the +bills, and beside them, half hidden under the sofa +where the man had sat, he saw a pair of gloves—thick, +leathern gloves—and a butcher's knife. +Even from the distance where he stood the blood-stains +on both were easily visible. +</p> + +<p> +Dazed and confused by the terrible discoveries +of the last few minutes, Blake stood in the middle +of the room, overwhelmed and unable to think or +move. Unconsciously he must have passed his +hand over his forehead in the natural gesture of +perplexity, for he noticed that the skin felt wet +and sticky. His hand was covered with blood! +And when he rushed in terror to the looking-glass, +he saw that there was a broad red smear across his +face and forehead. Then he remembered the +slippery handle of the door and knew that it had +been carefully moistened! +</p> + +<p> +In an instant the whole plot became clear as +daylight, and he was so spellbound with horror +that a sort of numbness came over him and he +came very near to fainting. He was in a condition +<a name="page237" id="page237"></a> +of utter helplessness, and had anyone come into the +room at that minute and called him by name he +would simply have dropped to the floor in a +heap. +</p> + +<p> +"If the police were to come in now!" The +thought crashed through his brain like thunder, +and at the same moment, almost before he had +time to appreciate a quarter of its significance, +there came a loud knocking at the front door +below. The bell rang with a dreadful clamour; +men's voices were heard talking excitedly, and +presently heavy steps began to come up the stairs +in the direction of his room. +</p> + +<p> +It <i>was</i> the police! +</p> + +<p> +And all Blake could do was to laugh foolishly to +himself—and wait till they were upon him. He +could not move nor speak. He stood face to face +with the evidence of his horrid crime, his hands +and face smeared with the blood of his victim, and +there he was standing when the police burst open +the door and came noisily into the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Here it is!" cried a voice he knew. "Third +floor back! And the fellow caught red-handed!" +</p> + +<p> +It was the man with the bag leading in the two +policemen. +<a name="page238" id="page238"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Hardly knowing what he was doing in the +fearful stress of conflicting emotions, he made a +step forward. But before he had time to make a +second one, he felt the heavy hand of the law +descend upon both shoulders at once as the two +policemen moved up to seize him. At the same +moment a voice of thunder cried in his ear— +</p> + +<p> +"Wake up, man! Wake up! Here's the supper, +and good news too!" +</p> + +<p> +Blake turned with a start in his chair and saw +the Dane, very red in the face, standing beside +him, a hand on each shoulder, and a little further +back he saw the Frenchman leering happily at him +over the end of the bed, a bottle of beer in one +hand and a paper package in the other. +</p> + +<p> +He rubbed his eyes, glancing from one to the +other, and then got up sleepily to fix the wire +arrangement on the gas jet to boil water for +cooking the eggs which the Frenchman was in +momentary danger of letting drop upon the +floor. +<a name="page239" id="page239"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter9" id="chapter9"> +THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PRIVATE SECRETARY IN NEW YORK +</a></h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +It was never quite clear to me how Jim Shorthouse +managed to get his private secretaryship; but, +once he got it, he kept it, and for some years he +led a steady life and put money in the savings +bank. +</p> + +<p> +One morning his employer sent for him into the +study, and it was evident to the secretary's trained +senses that there was something unusual in the +air. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Shorthouse," he began, somewhat nervously, +"I have never yet had the opportunity of observing +whether or not you are possessed of personal +courage." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse gasped, but he said nothing. He +was growing accustomed to the eccentricities +of his chief. Shorthouse was a Kentish man; +<a name="page240" id="page240"></a> +Sidebotham was "raised" in Chicago; New York +was the present place of residence. +</p> + +<p> +"But," the other continued, with a puff at his +very black cigar, "I must consider myself a poor +judge of human nature in future, if it is not one of +your strongest qualities." +</p> + +<p> +The private secretary made a foolish little bow +in modest appreciation of so uncertain a compliment. +Mr. Jonas B. Sidebotham watched him +narrowly, as the novelists say, before he continued +his remarks. +</p> + +<p> +"I have no doubt that you are a plucky fellow +and—" He hesitated, and puffed at his cigar +as if his life depended upon it keeping alight. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think I'm afraid of anything in +particular, sir—except women," interposed the +young man, feeling that it was time for him +to make an observation of some sort, but still +quite in the dark as to his chief's purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"Humph!" he grunted. "Well, there are no +women in this case so far as I know. But there +may be other things that—that hurt more." +</p> + +<p> +"Wants a special service of some kind, evidently," +was the secretary's reflection. "Personal +violence?" he asked aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"Possibly (puff), in fact (puff, puff) probably." +<a name="page241" id="page241"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse smelt an increase of salary in the air. +It had a stimulating effect. +</p> + +<p> +"I've had some experience of that article, sir," +he said shortly; "but I'm ready to undertake anything +in reason." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't say how much reason or unreason there +may prove to be in this particular case. It all +depends." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Sidebotham got up and locked the door of +his study and drew down the blinds of both +windows. Then he took a bunch of keys from his +pocket and opened a black tin box. He ferreted +about among blue and white papers for a few +seconds, enveloping himself as he did so in a cloud +of blue tobacco smoke. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel like a detective already," Shorthouse +laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Speak low, please," returned the other, glancing +round the room. "We must observe the utmost +secrecy. Perhaps you would be kind enough to +close the registers," he went on in a still lower +voice. "Open registers have betrayed conversations +before now." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse began to enter into the spirit of the +thing. He tiptoed across the floor and shut the +two iron gratings in the wall that in American +<a name="page242" id="page242"></a> +houses supply hot air and are termed "registers." +Mr. Sidebotham had meanwhile found the paper he +was looking for. He held it in front of him and +tapped it once or twice with the back of his right +hand as if it were a stage letter and himself the +villain of the melodrama. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a letter from Joel Garvey, my old +partner," he said at length. "You have heard me +speak of him." +</p> + +<p> +The other bowed. He knew that many years +before Garvey & Sidebotham had been well +known in the Chicago financial world. He knew +that the amazing rapidity with which they accumulated +a fortune had only been surpassed +by the amazing rapidity with which they had +immediately afterwards disappeared into space. +He was further aware—his position afforded +facilities—that each partner was still to some extent +in the other's power, and that each wished most +devoutly that the other would die. +</p> + +<p> +The sins of his employer's early years did not +concern him, however. The man was kind and +just, if eccentric; and Shorthouse, being in New +York, did not probe to discover more particularly +the sources whence his salary was so regularly paid. +Moreover, the two men had grown to like each +<a name="page243" id="page243"></a> +other and there was a genuine feeling of trust +and respect between them. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope it's a pleasant communication, sir," he +said in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite the reverse," returned the other, fingering +the paper nervously as he stood in front of the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Blackmail, I suppose." +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely." Mr. Sidebotham's cigar was not +burning well; he struck a match and applied it +to the uneven edge, and presently his voice spoke +through clouds of wreathing smoke. +</p> + +<p> +"There are valuable papers in my possession +bearing his signature. I cannot inform you of +their nature; but they are extremely valuable <i>to +me</i>. They belong, as a matter of fact, to Garvey as +much as to me. Only I've got them—" +</p> + +<p> +"I see." +</p> + +<p> +"Garvey writes that he wants to have his +signature removed—wants to cut it out with his +own hand. He gives reasons which incline me to +consider his request—" +</p> + +<p> +"And you would like me to take him the papers +and see that he does it?" +</p> + +<p> +"And bring them back again with you," he +whispered, screwing up his eyes into a shrewd +grimace. +<a name="page244" id="page244"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"And bring them back again with me," repeated +the secretary. "I understand perfectly." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse knew from unfortunate experience +more than a little of the horrors of blackmail. +The pressure Garvey was bringing to bear upon +his old enemy must be exceedingly strong. That +was quite clear. At the same time, the commission +that was being entrusted to him seemed somewhat +quixotic in its nature. He had already "enjoyed" +more than one experience of his employer's +eccentricity, and he now caught himself wondering +whether this same eccentricity did not sometimes +go—further than eccentricity. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot read the letter to you," Mr. Sidebotham +was explaining, "but I shall give it into your +hands. It will prove that you are my—er—my +accredited representative. I shall also ask you not +to read the package of papers. The signature in +question you will find, of course, on the last page, +at the bottom." +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause of several minutes during +which the end of the cigar glowed eloquently. +</p> + +<p> +"Circumstances compel me," he went on at length +almost in a whisper, "or I should never do this. +But you understand, of course, the thing is a ruse. +Cutting out the signature is a mere pretence. It is +<a name="page245" id="page245"></a> +nothing. <i>What Garvey wants are the papers +themselves.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +The confidence reposed in the private secretary +was not misplaced. Shorthouse was as faithful to +Mr. Sidebotham as a man ought to be to the wife +that loves him. +</p> + +<p> +The commission itself seemed very simple. +Garvey lived in solitude in the remote part of Long +Island. Shorthouse was to take the papers to him, +witness the cutting out of the signature, and to be +specially on his guard against any attempt, forcible +or otherwise, to gain possession of them. It seemed +to him a somewhat ludicrous adventure, but he +did not know all the facts and perhaps was not the +best judge. +</p> + +<p> +The two men talked in low voices for another hour, +at the end of which Mr. Sidebotham drew up the +blinds, opened the registers and unlocked the door. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse rose to go. His pockets were stuffed +with papers and his head with instructions; but +when he reached the door he hesitated and turned. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" said his chief. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse looked him straight in the eye and +said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"The personal violence, I suppose?" said the +other. Shorthouse bowed. +<a name="page246" id="page246"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"I have not seen Garvey for twenty years," he +said; "all I can tell you is that I believe him +to be occasionally of unsound mind. I have heard +strange rumours. He lives alone, and in his lucid +intervals studies chemistry. It was always a +hobby of his. But the chances are twenty to one +against his attempting violence. I only wished +to warn you—in case—I mean, so that you may +be on the watch." +</p> + +<p> +He handed his secretary a Smith and Wesson +revolver as he spoke. Shorthouse slipped it into +his hip pocket and went out of the room. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +A drizzling cold rain was falling on fields covered +with half-melted snow when Shorthouse stood, late +in the afternoon, on the platform of the lonely little +Long Island station and watched the train he had +just left vanish into the distance. +</p> + +<p> +It was a bleak country that Joel Garvey, Esq., +formerly of Chicago, had chosen for his residence +and on this particular afternoon it presented a +more than usually dismal appearance. An expanse +of flat fields covered with dirty snow stretched away +on all sides till the sky dropped down to meet +them. Only occasional farm buildings broke the +monotony, and the road wound along muddy lanes +<a name="page247" id="page247"></a> +and beneath dripping trees swathed in the cold raw +fog that swept in like a pall of the dead from the sea. +</p> + +<p> +It was six miles from the station to Garvey's +house, and the driver of the rickety buggy +Shorthouse had found at the station was not +communicative. Between the dreary landscape +and the drearier driver he fell back upon his own +thoughts, which, but for the spice of adventure +that was promised, would themselves have been +even drearier than either. He made up his mind +that he would waste no time over the transaction. +The moment the signature was cut out he would +pack up and be off. The last train back to Brooklyn +was 7.15; and he would have to walk the six miles +of mud and snow, for the driver of the buggy had +refused point-blank to wait for him. +</p> + +<p> +For purposes of safety, Shorthouse had done +what he flattered himself was rather a clever thing. +He had made up a second packet of papers identical +in outside appearance with the first. The inscription, +the blue envelope, the red elastic band, and +even a blot in the lower left-hand corner had been +exactly reproduced. Inside, of course, were only +sheets of blank paper. It was his intention to +change the packets and to let Garvey see him put +the sham one into the bag. In case of violence +<a name="page248" id="page248"></a> +the bag would be the point of attack, and he +intended to lock it and throw away the key. +Before it could be forced open and the deception +discovered there would be time to increase his +chances of escape with the real packet. +</p> + +<p> +It was five o'clock when the silent Jehu pulled +up in front of a half-broken gate and pointed with +his whip to a house that stood in its own grounds +among trees and was just visible in the gathering +gloom. Shorthouse told him to drive up to the +front door but the man refused. +</p> + +<p> +"I ain't runnin' no risks," he said; "I've got a +family." +</p> + +<p> +This cryptic remark was not encouraging, but +Shorthouse did not pause to decipher it. He paid +the man, and then pushed open the rickety old +gate swinging on a single hinge, and proceeded +to walk up the drive that lay dark between close-standing +trees. The house soon came into full +view. It was tall and square and had once +evidently been white, but now the walls were +covered with dirty patches and there were wide +yellow streaks where the plaster had fallen away. +The windows stared black and uncompromising +into the night. The garden was overgrown with +weeds and long grass, standing up in ugly patches +<a name="page249" id="page249"></a> +beneath their burden of wet snow. Complete +silence reigned over all. There was not a sign of +life. Not even a dog barked. Only, in the +distance, the wheels of the retreating carriage +could be heard growing fainter and fainter. +</p> + +<p> +As he stood in the porch, between pillars of +rotting wood, listening to the rain dripping from +the roof into the puddles of slushy snow, he was +conscious of a sensation of utter desertion and +loneliness such as he had never before experienced. +The forbidding aspect of the house had the +immediate effect of lowering his spirits. It might +well have been the abode of monsters or demons +in a child's wonder tale, creatures that only dared +to come out under cover of darkness. He groped +for the bell-handle, or knocker, and finding neither, +he raised his stick and beat a loud tattoo on +the door. The sound echoed away in an empty +space on the other side and the wind moaned past +him between the pillars as if startled at his audacity. +But there was no sound of approaching footsteps +and no one came to open the door. Again he beat +a tattoo, louder and longer than the first one; and, +having done so, waited with his back to the house +and stared across the unkempt garden into the +fast gathering shadows. +<a name="page250" id="page250"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned suddenly, and saw that the door +was standing ajar. It had been quietly opened +and a pair of eyes were peering at him round the +edge. There was no light in the hall beyond and +he could only just make out the shape of a dim +human face. +</p> + +<p> +"Does Mr. Garvey live here?" he asked in a firm +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Who are you?" came in a man's tones. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm Mr. Sidebotham's private secretary. I +wish to see Mr. Garvey on important business." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you expected?" +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose so," he said impatiently, thrusting +a card through the opening. "Please take my +name to him at once, and say I come from Mr. +Sidebotham on the matter Mr. Garvey wrote +about." +</p> + +<p> +The man took the card, and the face vanished +into the darkness, leaving Shorthouse standing in +the cold porch with mingled feelings of impatience +and dismay. The door, he now noticed for the first +time, was on a chain and could not open more than +a few inches. But it was the manner of his reception +that caused uneasy reflections to stir within +him—reflections that continued for some minutes +before they were interrupted by the sound of +<a name="page251" id="page251"></a> +approaching footsteps and the flicker of a light in +the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The next instant the chain fell with a rattle, and +gripping his bag tightly, he walked into a large +ill-smelling hall of which he could only just see the +ceiling. There was no light but the nickering +taper held by the man, and by its uncertain +glimmer Shorthouse turned to examine him. He +saw an undersized man of middle age with brilliant, +shifting eyes, a curling black beard, and a nose that +at once proclaimed him a Jew. His shoulders were +bent, and, as he watched him replacing the chain, +he saw that he wore a peculiar black gown like +a priest's cassock reaching to the feet. It was +altogether a lugubrious figure of a man, sinister +and funereal, yet it seemed in perfect harmony +with the general character of its surroundings. +The hall was devoid of furniture of any kind, and +against the dingy walls stood rows of old picture +frames, empty and disordered, and odd-looking bits +of wood-work that appeared doubly fantastic as +their shadows danced queerly over the floor in the +shifting light. +</p> + +<p> +"If you'll come this way, Mr. Garvey will see +you presently," said the Jew gruffly, crossing the +floor and shielding the taper with a bony hand. +<a name="page252" id="page252"></a> +He never once raised his eyes above the level of +the visitor's waistcoat, and, to Shorthouse, he somehow +suggested a figure from the dead rather than +a man of flesh and blood. The hall smelt decidedly +ill. +</p> + +<p> +All the more surprising, then, was the scene that +met his eyes when the Jew opened the door at the +further end and he entered a room brilliantly +lit with swinging lamps and furnished with a +degree of taste and comfort that amounted to +luxury. The walls were lined with handsomely +bound books, and armchairs were arranged round +a large mahogany desk in the middle of the room. +A bright fire burned in the grate and neatly framed +photographs of men and women stood on the +mantelpiece on either side of an elaborately carved +clock. French windows that opened like doors +were partially concealed by warm red curtains, and +on a sideboard against the wall stood decanters and +glasses, with several boxes of cigars piled on top +of one another. There was a pleasant odour +of tobacco about the room. Indeed, it was in +such glowing contrast to the chilly poverty of +the hall that Shorthouse already was conscious +of a distinct rise in the thermometer of his +spirits. +<a name="page253" id="page253"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned and saw the Jew standing in the +doorway with his eyes fixed upon him, somewhere +about the middle button of his waistcoat. He +presented a strangely repulsive appearance that +somehow could not be attributed to any particular +detail, and the secretary associated him in his mind +with a monstrous black bird of prey more than +anything else. +</p> + +<p> +"My time is short," he said abruptly; "I hope +Mr. Garvey will not keep me waiting." +</p> + +<p> +A strange flicker of a smile appeared on the +Jew's ugly face and vanished as quickly as it came. +He made a sort of deprecating bow by way of +reply. Then he blew out the taper and went out, +closing the door noiselessly behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was alone. He felt relieved. There +was an air of obsequious insolence about the old +Jew that was very offensive. He began to take +note of his surroundings. He was evidently in the +library of the house, for the walls were covered +with books almost up to the ceiling. There was +no room for pictures. Nothing but the shining +backs of well-bound volumes looked down upon +him. Four brilliant lights hung from the ceiling +and a reading lamp with a polished reflector stood +among the disordered masses of papers on the desk. +<a name="page254" id="page254"></a> +</p> + +<p> +The lamp was not lit, but when Shorthouse put his +hand upon it he found it was <i>warm</i>. The room +had evidently only just been vacated. +</p> + +<p> +Apart from the testimony of the lamp, however, +he had already felt, without being able to give a +reason for it, that the room had been occupied a +few moments before he entered. The atmosphere +over the desk seemed to retain the disturbing +influence of a human being; an influence, moreover, +so recent that he felt as if the cause of it were +still in his immediate neighbourhood. It was +difficult to realise that he was quite alone in the +room and that somebody was not in hiding. The +finer counterparts of his senses warned him to act +as if he were being observed; he was dimly +conscious of a desire to fidget and look round, to +keep his eyes in every part of the room at once, +and to conduct himself generally as if he were the +object of careful human observation. +</p> + +<p> +How far he recognised the cause of these sensations +it is impossible to say; but they were sufficiently +marked to prevent his carrying out a strong +inclination to get up and make a search of the +room. He sat quite still, staring alternately at +the backs of the books, and at the red curtains; +wondering all the time if he was really being +<a name="page255" id="page255"></a> +watched, or if it was only the imagination playing +tricks with him. +</p> + +<p> +A full quarter of an hour passed, and then +twenty rows of volumes suddenly shifted out +towards him, and he saw that a door had opened +in the wall opposite. The books were only sham +backs after all, and when they moved back again +with the sliding door, Shorthouse saw the figure +of Joel Garvey standing before him. +</p> + +<p> +Surprise almost took his breath away. He had +expected to see an unpleasant, even a vicious +apparition with the mark of the beast unmistakably +upon its face; but he was wholly unprepared +for the elderly, tall, fine-looking man who stood +in front of him—well-groomed, refined, vigorous, +with a lofty forehead, clear grey eyes, and a +hooked nose dominating a clean shaven mouth and +chin of considerable character—a distinguished +looking man altogether. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I've kept you waiting, Mr. Shorthouse," +he said in a pleasant voice, but with no +trace of a smile in the mouth or eyes. "But the +fact is, you know, I've a mania for chemistry, and +just when you were announced I was at the most +critical moment of a problem and was really compelled +to bring it to a conclusion." +<a name="page256" id="page256"></a> +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse had risen to meet him, but the +other motioned him to resume his seat. It was +borne in upon him irresistibly that Mr. Joel +Garvey, for reasons best known to himself, was +deliberately lying, and he could not help wondering +at the necessity for such an elaborate misrepresentation. +He took off his overcoat and sat +down. +</p> + +<p> +"I've no doubt, too, that the door startled you," +Garvey went on, evidently reading something of +his guest's feelings in his face. "You probably +had not suspected it. It leads into my little +laboratory. Chemistry is an absorbing study to +me, and I spend most of my time there." Mr. +Garvey moved up to the armchair on the opposite +side of the fireplace and sat down. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse made appropriate answers to these +remarks, but his mind was really engaged in +taking stock of Mr. Sidebotham's old-time partner. +So far there was no sign of mental irregularity +and there was certainly nothing about him to +suggest violent wrong-doing or coarseness of +living. On the whole, Mr. Sidebotham's secretary +was most pleasantly surprised, and, wishing to +conclude his business as speedily as possible, he +made a motion towards the bag for the purpose +<a name="page257" id="page257"></a> +of opening it, when his companion interrupted +him quickly— +</p> + +<p> +"You are Mr. Sidebotham's <i>private</i> secretary, +are you not?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse replied that he was. "Mr. Sidebotham," +he went on to explain, "has entrusted +me with the papers in the case and I have the +honour to return to you your letter of a week +ago." He handed the letter to Garvey, who took +it without a word and deliberately placed it in +the fire. He was not aware that the secretary +was ignorant of its contents, yet his face betrayed +no signs of feeling. Shorthouse noticed, however, +that his eyes never left the fire until the last +morsel had been consumed. Then he looked up +and said, "You are familiar then with the facts +of this most peculiar case?" +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse saw no reason to confess his +ignorance. +</p> + +<p> +"I have all the papers, Mr. Garvey," he replied, +taking them out of the bag, "and I should be +very glad if we could transact our business as +speedily as possible. If you will cut out your +signature I—" +</p> + +<p> +"One moment, please," interrupted the other. +"I must, before we proceed further, consult some +<a name="page258" id="page258"></a> +papers in my laboratory. If you will allow me +to leave you alone a few minutes for this purpose +we can conclude the whole matter in a very short +time." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse did not approve of this further +delay, but he had no option than to acquiesce, and +when Garvey had left the room by the private +door he sat and waited with the papers in his +hand. The minutes went by and the other did +not return. To pass the time he thought of +taking the false packet from his coat to see that +the papers were in order, and the move was +indeed almost completed, when something—he +never knew what—warned him to desist. The +feeling again came over him that he was being +watched, and he leaned back in his chair with the +bag on his knees and waited with considerable +impatience for the other's return. For more than +twenty minutes he waited, and when at length +the door opened and Garvey appeared, with profuse +apologies for the delay, he saw by the clock +that only a few minutes still remained of the time +he had allowed himself to catch the last train. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I am completely at your service," he said +pleasantly; "you must, of course, know, Mr. +Shorthouse, that one cannot be too careful in +<a name="page259" id="page259"></a> +matters of this kind—especially," he went on, +speaking very slowly and impressively, "in dealing +with a man like my former partner, whose +mind, as you doubtless may have discovered, is at +times very sadly affected." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse made no reply to this. He felt that +the other was watching him as a cat watches a +mouse. +</p> + +<p> +"It is almost a wonder to me," Garvey added, +"that he is still at large. Unless he has greatly +improved it can hardly be safe for those who are +closely associated with him." +</p> + +<p> +The other began to feel uncomfortable. Either +this was the other side of the story, or it was the +first signs of mental irresponsibility. +</p> + +<p> +"All business matters of importance require the +utmost care in my opinion, Mr. Garvey," he said +at length, cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! then, as I thought, you have had a great +deal to put up with from him," Garvey said, with +his eyes fixed on his companion's face. "And, no +doubt, he is still as bitter against me as he was +years ago when the disease first showed itself?" +</p> + +<p> +Although this last remark was a deliberate +question and the questioner was waiting with +fixed eyes for an answer, Shorthouse elected to +<a name="page260" id="page260"></a> +take no notice of it. Without a word he pulled +the elastic band from the blue envelope with a +snap and plainly showed his desire to conclude the +business as soon as possible. The tendency on the +other's part to delay did not suit him at all. +</p> + +<p> +"But never personal violence, I trust, Mr. +Shorthouse," he added. +</p> + +<p> +"Never." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad to hear it," Garvey said in a sympathetic +voice, "very glad to hear it. And now," +he went on, "if you are ready we can transact this +little matter of business before dinner. It will +only take a moment." +</p> + +<p> +He drew a chair up to the desk and sat down, +taking a pair of scissors from a drawer. His +companion approached with the papers in his hand, +unfolding them as he came. Garvey at once took +them from him, and after turning over a few pages +he stopped and cut out a piece of writing at the +bottom of the last sheet but one. +</p> + +<p> +Holding it up to him Shorthouse read the words +"Joel Garvey" in faded ink. +</p> + +<p> +"There! That's my signature," he said, "and +I've cut it out. It must be nearly twenty years +since I wrote it, and now I'm going to burn it." +</p> + +<p> +He went to the fire and stooped over to burn the +<a name="page261" id="page261"></a> +little slip of paper, and while he watched it being +consumed Shorthouse put the real papers in his +pocket and slipped the imitation ones into the bag. +Garvey turned just in time to see this latter movement. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm putting the papers back," Shorthouse said +quietly; "you've done with them, I think." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," he replied as, completely deceived, +he saw the blue envelope disappear into the black +bag and watched Shorthouse turn the key. "They +no longer have the slightest interest for me." +As he spoke he moved over to the sideboard, and +pouring himself out a small glass of whisky asked +his visitor if he might do the same for him. But +the visitor declined and was already putting on his +overcoat when Garvey turned with genuine surprise +on his face. +</p> + +<p> +"You surely are not going back to New York +to-night, Mr. Shorthouse?" he said, in a voice of +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"I've just time to catch the 7.15 if I'm quick." +</p> + +<p> +"But I never heard of such a thing," Garvey +said. "Of course I took it for granted that you +would stay the night." +</p> + +<p> +"It's kind of you," said Shorthouse, "but really +I must return to-night. I never expected to stay." +<a name="page262" id="page262"></a> +</p> + +<p> +The two men stood facing each other. Garvey +pulled out his watch. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm exceedingly sorry," he said; "but, upon my +word, I took it for granted you would stay. I +ought to have said so long ago. I'm such a lonely +fellow and so little accustomed to visitors that I +fear I forgot my manners altogether. But in any +case, Mr. Shorthouse, you cannot catch the 7.15, +for it's already after six o'clock, and that's +the last train to-night." Garvey spoke very +quickly, almost eagerly, but his voice sounded +genuine. +</p> + +<p> +"There's time if I walk quickly," said the +young man with decision, moving towards the +door. He glanced at his watch as he went. +Hitherto he had gone by the clock on the mantelpiece. +To his dismay he saw that it was, as his +host had said, long after six. The clock was half +an hour slow, and he realised at once that it was no +longer possible to catch the train. +</p> + +<p> +Had the hands of the clock been moved back +intentionally? Had he been purposely detained? +Unpleasant thoughts flashed into his brain and +made him hesitate before taking the next step. +His employer's warning rang in his ears. The +alternative was six miles along a lonely road in +<a name="page263" id="page263"></a> +the dark, or a night under Garvey's roof. The +former seemed a direct invitation to catastrophe, if +catastrophe there was planned to be. The latter—well, +the choice was certainly small. One thing, +however, he realised, was plain—he must show +neither fear nor hesitancy. +</p> + +<p> +"My watch must have gained," he observed +quietly, turning the hands back without looking +up. "It seems I have certainly missed that train +and shall be obliged to throw myself upon your +hospitality. But, believe me, I had no intention of +putting you out to any such extent." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm delighted," the other said. "Defer to the +judgment of an older man and make yourself +comfortable for the night. There's a bitter storm +outside, and you don't put me out at all. On the +contrary it's a great pleasure. I have so little +contact with the outside world that it's really a +god-send to have you." +</p> + +<p> +The man's face changed as he spoke. His +manner was cordial and sincere. Shorthouse +began to feel ashamed of his doubts and to read +between the lines of his employer's warning. He +took off his coat and the two men moved to the +armchairs beside the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"You see," Garvey went on in a lowered voice, +<a name="page264" id="page264"></a> +"I understand your hesitancy perfectly. I didn't +know Sidebotham all those years without knowing +a good deal about him—perhaps more than you do. +I've no doubt, now, he filled your mind with all +sorts of nonsense about me—probably told you +that I was the greatest villain unhung, eh? and all +that sort of thing? Poor fellow! He was a fine +sort before his mind became unhinged. One of his +fancies used to be that everybody else was insane, +or just about to become insane. Is he still as bad +as that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Few men," replied Shorthouse, with the manner +of making a great confidence, but entirely refusing +to be drawn, "go through his experiences and reach +his age without entertaining delusions of one kind +or another." +</p> + +<p> +"Perfectly true," said Garvey. "Your observation +is evidently keen." +</p> + +<p> +"Very keen indeed," Shorthouse replied, taking +his cue neatly; "but, of course, there are some +things"—and here he looked cautiously over his +shoulder—"there are some things one cannot talk +about too circumspectly." +</p> + +<p> +"I understand perfectly and respect your +reserve." +</p> + +<p> +There was a little more conversation and then +<a name="page265" id="page265"></a> +Garvey got up and excused himself on the plea of +superintending the preparation of the bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +"It's quite an event to have a visitor in the +house, and I want to make you as comfortable as +possible," he said. "Marx will do better for a little +supervision. And," he added with a laugh as he +stood in the doorway, "I want you to carry back a +good account to Sidebotham." +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +The tall form disappeared and the door was shut. +The conversation of the past few minutes had +come somewhat as a revelation to the secretary. +Garvey seemed in full possession of normal instincts. +There was no doubt as to the sincerity of his +manner and intentions. The suspicions of the first +hour began to vanish like mist before the sun. +Sidebotham's portentous warnings and the mystery +with which he surrounded the whole episode had +been allowed to unduly influence his mind. The +loneliness of the situation and the bleak nature of +the surroundings had helped to complete the +illusion. He began to be ashamed of his suspicions +and a change commenced gradually to be wrought +in his thoughts. Anyhow a dinner and a bed were +<a name="page266" id="page266"></a> +preferable to six miles in the dark, no dinner, and +a cold train into the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +Garvey returned presently. "We'll do the best +we can for you," he said, dropping into the deep +armchair on the other side of the fire. "Marx is a +good servant if you watch him all the time. You +must always stand over a Jew, though, if you want +things done properly. They're tricky and uncertain +unless they're working for their own interest. But +Marx might be worse, I'll admit. He's been with +me for nearly twenty years—cook, valet, housemaid, +and butler all in one. In the old days, you know, +he was a clerk in our office in Chicago." +</p> + +<p> +Garvey rattled on and Shorthouse listened with +occasional remarks thrown in. The former seemed +pleased to have somebody to talk to and the sound +of his own voice was evidently sweet music in his +ears. After a few minutes, he crossed over to the +sideboard and again took up the decanter of +whisky, holding it to the light. "You will join me +this time," he said pleasantly, pouring out two +glasses, "it will give us an appetite for dinner," and +this time Shorthouse did not refuse. The liquor +was mellow and soft and the men took two glasses +apiece. +</p> + +<p> +"Excellent," remarked the secretary. +<a name="page267" id="page267"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Glad you appreciate it," said the host, smacking +his lips. "It's very old whisky, and I rarely touch +it when I'm alone. But this," he added, "is a +special occasion, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was in the act of putting his glass +down when something drew his eyes suddenly to +the other's face. A strange note in the man's +voice caught his attention and communicated +alarm to his nerves. A new light shone in +Garvey's eyes and there flitted momentarily across +his strong features the shadow of something that +set the secretary's nerves tingling. A mist spread +before his eyes and the unaccountable belief rose +strong in him that he was staring into the visage +of an untamed animal. Close to his heart there +was something that was wild, fierce, savage. An +involuntary shiver ran over him and seemed to +dispel the strange fancy as suddenly as it had +come. He met the other's eye with a smile, the +counterpart of which in his heart was vivid +horror. +</p> + +<p> +"It <i>is</i> a special occasion," he said, as naturally as +possible, "and, allow me to add, very special +whisky." +</p> + +<p> +Garvey appeared delighted. He was in the +middle of a devious tale describing how the whisky +<a name="page268" id="page268"></a> +came originally into his possession when the door +opened behind them and a grating voice announced +that dinner was ready. They followed the +cassocked form of Marx across the dirty hall, lit +only by the shaft of light that followed them from +the library door, and entered a small room where +a single lamp stood upon a table laid for dinner. +The walls were destitute of pictures, and the +windows had Venetian blinds without curtains. +There was no fire in the grate, and when the men +sat down facing each other Shorthouse noticed +that, while his own cover was laid with its due +proportion of glasses and cutlery, his companion +had nothing before him but a soup plate, without +fork, knife, or spoon beside it. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what there is to offer you," he +said; "but I'm sure Marx has done the best he can +at such short notice. I only eat one course for +dinner, but pray take your time and enjoy your +food." +</p> + +<p> +Marx presently set a plate of soup before the +guest, yet so loathsome was the immediate presence +of this old Hebrew servitor, that the spoonfuls +disappeared somewhat slowly. Garvey sat and +watched him. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse said the soup was delicious and +<a name="page269" id="page269"></a> +bravely swallowed another mouthful. In reality +his thoughts were centred upon his companion, +whose manners were giving evidence of a gradual +and curious change. There was a decided difference +in his demeanour, a difference that the secretary +<i>felt</i> at first, rather than saw. Garvey's quiet self-possession +was giving place to a degree of suppressed +excitement that seemed so far inexplicable. +His movements became quick and nervous, his eye +shifting and strangely brilliant, and his voice, when +he spoke, betrayed an occasional deep tremor. +Something unwonted was stirring within him and +evidently demanding every moment more vigorous +manifestation as the meal proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +Intuitively Shorthouse was afraid of this growing +excitement, and while negotiating some uncommonly +tough pork chops he tried to lead the +conversation on to the subject of chemistry, of +which in his Oxford days he had been an +enthusiastic student. His companion, however, +would none of it. It seemed to have lost +interest for him, and he would barely condescend to +respond. When Marx presently returned with a +plate of steaming eggs and bacon the subject +dropped of its own accord. +</p> + +<p> +"An inadequate dinner dish," Garvey said, as +<a name="page270" id="page270"></a> +soon as the man was gone; "but better than nothing, +I hope." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse remarked that he was exceedingly +fond of bacon and eggs, and, looking up with the +last word, saw that Garvey's face was twitching +convulsively and that he was almost wriggling in +his chair. He quieted down, however, under the +secretary's gaze and observed, though evidently +with an effort— +</p> + +<p> +"Very good of you to say so. Wish I could join +you, only I never eat such stuff. I only take one +course for dinner." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse began to feel some curiosity as to +what the nature of this one course might be, but he +made no further remark and contented himself with +noting mentally that his companion's excitement +seemed to be rapidly growing beyond his control. +There was something uncanny about it, and he +began to wish he had chosen the alternative of the +walk to the station. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad to see you never speak when Marx is +in the room," said Garvey presently. "I'm sure it's +better not. Don't you think so?" +</p> + +<p> +He appeared to wait eagerly for the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly," said the puzzled secretary. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," the other went on quickly. "He's an +<a name="page271" id="page271"></a> +excellent man, but he has one drawback—a really +horrid one. You may—but, no, you could hardly +have noticed it yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Not drink, I trust," said Shorthouse, who would +rather have discussed any other subject than the +odious Jew. +</p> + +<p> +"Worse than that a great deal," Garvey replied, +evidently expecting the other to draw him out. +But Shorthouse was in no mood to hear anything +horrible, and he declined to step into the trap. +</p> + +<p> +"The best of servants have their faults," he said +coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll tell you what it is if you like," Garvey went +on, still speaking very low and leaning forward +over the table so that his face came close to the +flame of the lamp, "only we must speak quietly in +case he's listening. I'll tell you what it is—if you +think you won't be frightened." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing frightens me," he laughed. (Garvey +must understand that at all events.) "Nothing +can frighten me," he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad of that; for it frightens <i>me</i> a good +deal sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse feigned indifference. Yet he was +aware that his heart was beating a little quicker +and that there was a sensation of chilliness in his +<a name="page272" id="page272"></a> +back. He waited in silence for what was to +come. +</p> + +<p> +"He has a horrible predilection for vacuums," +Garvey went on presently in a still lower voice +and thrusting his face farther forward under the +lamp. +</p> + +<p> +"Vacuums!" exclaimed the secretary in spite of +himself. "What in the world do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"What I say of course. He's always tumbling +into them, so that I can't find him or get at him. +He hides there for hours at a time, and for the life +of me I can't make out what he does there." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse stared his companion straight in the +eyes. What in the name of Heaven was he talking +about? +</p> + +<p> +"Do you suppose he goes there for a change of +air, or—or to escape?" he went on in a louder voice. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse could have laughed outright but for +the expression of the other's face. +</p> + +<p> +"I should not think there was much air of any +sort in a vacuum," he said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"That's exactly what <i>I</i> feel," continued Garvey +with ever growing excitement. "That's the +horrid part of it. How the devil does he live +there? You see—" +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever followed him there?" interrupted +<a name="page273" id="page273"></a> +the secretary. The other leaned back in his +chair and drew a deep sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"Never! It's impossible. You see I can't follow +him. There's not room for two. A vacuum only +holds one comfortably. Marx knows that. He's +out of my reach altogether once he's fairly inside. +He knows the best side of a bargain. He's a +regular Jew." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a drawback to a servant, of course—" +Shorthouse spoke slowly, with his eyes on his plate. +</p> + +<p> +"A drawback," interrupted the other with an +ugly chuckle, "I call it a draw-in, that's what +I call it." +</p> + +<p> +"A draw-in does seem a more accurate term," +assented Shorthouse. "But," he went on, "I +thought that nature abhorred a vacuum. She +used to, when I was at school—though perhaps—it's +so long ago—" +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated and looked up. Something in +Garvey's face—something he had <i>felt</i> before he +looked up—stopped his tongue and froze the words +in his throat. His lips refused to move and became +suddenly dry. Again the mist rose before his +eyes and the appalling shadow dropped its veil +over the face before him. Garvey's features began +to burn and glow. Then they seemed to coarsen +<a name="page274" id="page274"></a> +and somehow slip confusedly together. He stared +for a second—it seemed only for a second—into the +visage of a ferocious and abominable animal; and +then, as suddenly as it had come, the filthy shadow +of the beast passed off, the mist melted out, and +with a mighty effort over his nerves he forced +himself to finish his sentence. +</p> + +<p> +"You see it's so long since I've given +attention to such things," he stammered. His +heart was beating rapidly, and a feeling of +oppression was gathering over it. +</p> + +<p> +"It's my peculiar and special study on the other +hand," Garvey resumed. "I've not spent all these +years in my laboratory to no purpose, I can assure +you. Nature, I know for a fact," he added with +unnatural warmth, "does <i>not</i> abhor a vacuum. +On the contrary, she's uncommonly fond of 'em, +much too fond, it seems, for the comfort of my +little household. If there were fewer vacuums +and more abhorrence we should get on better—a +damned sight better in my opinion." +</p> + +<p> +"Your special knowledge, no doubt, enables you +to speak with authority," Shorthouse said, curiosity +and alarm warring with other mixed feelings in +his mind; "but how <i>can</i> a man tumble into a +vacuum?" +<a name="page275" id="page275"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"You may well ask. That's just it. How can +he? It's preposterous and I can't make it out +at all. Marx knows, but he won't tell me. Jews +know more than we do. For my part I have +reason to believe—" He stopped and listened. +"Hush! here he comes," he added, rubbing his +hands together as if in glee and fidgeting in his +chair. +</p> + +<p> +Steps were heard coming down the passage, +and as they approached the door Garvey seemed +to give himself completely over to an excitement +he could not control. His eyes were fixed on the +door and he began clutching the tablecloth with +both hands. Again his face was screened by the +loathsome shadow. It grew wild, wolfish. As +through a mask, that concealed, and yet was thin +enough to let through a suggestion of, the beast +crouching behind, there leaped into his countenance +the strange look of the animal in the human—the +expression of the were-wolf, the monster. The +change in all its loathsomeness came rapidly over +his features, which began to lose their outline. +The nose flattened, dropping with broad nostrils +over thick lips. The face rounded, filled, and +became squat. The eyes, which, luckily for +Shorthouse, no longer sought his own, glowed +<a name="page276" id="page276"></a> +with the light of untamed appetite and bestial +greed. The hands left the cloth and grasped the +edges of the plate, and then clutched the cloth +again. +</p> + +<p> +"This is <i>my</i> course coming now," said Garvey, +in a deep guttural voice. He was shivering. His +upper lip was partly lifted and showed the teeth, +white and gleaming. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later the door opened and Marx +hurried into the room and set a dish in front +of his master. Garvey half rose to meet him, +stretching out his hands and grinning horribly. +With his mouth he made a sound like the snarl +of an animal. The dish before him was steaming, +but the slight vapour rising from it betrayed by +its odour that it was not born of a fire of coals. +It was the natural heat of flesh warmed by the +fires of life only just expelled. The moment the +dish rested on the table Garvey pushed away his +own plate and drew the other up close under his +mouth. Then he seized the food in both hands +and commenced to tear it with his teeth, grunting +as he did so. Shorthouse closed his eyes, with a +feeling of nausea. When he looked up again +the lips and jaw of the man opposite were stained +with crimson. The whole man was transformed. +<a name="page277" id="page277"></a> +A feasting tiger, starved and ravenous, but without +a tiger's grace—this was what he watched for +several minutes, transfixed with horror and +disgust. +</p> + +<p> +Marx had already taken his departure, knowing +evidently what was not good for the eyes to look +upon, and Shorthouse knew at last that he was +sitting face to face with a madman. +</p> + +<p> +The ghastly meal was finished in an incredibly +short time and nothing was left but a tiny pool +of red liquid rapidly hardening. Garvey leaned +back heavily in his chair and sighed. His smeared +face, withdrawn now from the glare of the lamp, +began to resume its normal appearance. Presently +he looked up at his guest and said in his natural +voice— +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you've had enough to eat. You +wouldn't care for this, you know," with a downward +glance. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse met his eyes with an inward loathing, +and it was impossible not to show some of the +repugnance he felt. In the other's face, however, +he thought he saw a subdued, cowed expression. +But he found nothing to say. +</p> + +<p> +"Marx will be in presently," Garvey went on. +"He's either listening, or in a vacuum." +<a name="page278" id="page278"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Does he choose any particular time for his +visits?" the secretary managed to ask. +</p> + +<p> +"He generally goes after dinner; just about this +time, in fact. But he's not gone yet," he added, +shrugging his shoulders, "for I think I hear him +coming." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse wondered whether vacuum was +possibly synonymous with wine cellar, but gave no +expression to his thoughts. With chills of horror +still running up and down his back, he saw Marx +come in with a basin and towel, while Garvey +thrust up his face just as an animal puts up its +muzzle to be rubbed. +</p> + +<p> +"Now we'll have coffee in the library, if you're +ready," he said, in the tone of a gentleman addressing +his guests after a dinner party. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse picked up the bag, which had lain +all this time between his feet, and walked through +the door his host held open for him. Side by side +they crossed the dark hall together, and, to his +disgust, Garvey linked an arm in his, and with his +face so close to the secretary's ear that he felt the +warm breath, said in a thick voice— +</p> + +<p> +"You're uncommonly careful with that bag, Mr. +Shorthouse. It surely must contain something +more than the bundle of papers." +<a name="page279" id="page279"></a> +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing but the papers," he answered, feeling +the hand burning upon his arm and wishing he +were miles away from the house and its abominable +occupants. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite sure?" asked the other with an odious +and suggestive chuckle. "Is there any meat in it, +fresh meat—raw meat?" +</p> + +<p> +The secretary felt, somehow, that at the least +sign of fear the beast on his arm would leap upon +him and tear him with his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing of the sort," he answered vigorously. +"It wouldn't hold enough to feed a cat." +</p> + +<p> +"True," said Garvey with a vile sigh, while the +other felt the hand upon his arm twitch up and +down as if feeling the flesh. "True, it's too small +to be of any real use. As you say, it wouldn't +hold enough to feed a cat." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse was unable to suppress a cry. The +muscles of his fingers, too, relaxed in spite of himself +and he let the black bag drop with a bang to +the floor. Garvey instantly withdrew his arm and +turned with a quick movement. But the secretary +had regained his control as suddenly as he had lost +it, and he met the maniac's eyes with a steady and +aggressive glare. +</p> + +<p> +"There, you see, it's quite light. It makes no +<a name="page280" id="page280"></a> +appreciable noise when I drop it." He picked it +up and let it fall again, as if he had dropped it for +the first time purposely. The ruse was successful. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. You're right," Garvey said, still standing +in the doorway and staring at him. "At any rate +it wouldn't hold enough for two," he laughed. +And as he closed the door the horrid laughter +echoed in the empty hall. +</p> + +<p> +They sat down by a blazing fire and Shorthouse +was glad to feel its warmth. Marx presently +brought in coffee. A glass of the old whisky and +a good cigar helped to restore equilibrium. For +some minutes the men sat in silence staring into +the fire. Then, without looking up, Garvey said +in a quiet voice— +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose it was a shock to you to see me eat +raw meat like that. I must apologise if it was +unpleasant to you. But it's all I can eat and it's +the only meal I take in the twenty-four hours." +</p> + +<p> +"Best nourishment in the world, no doubt; +though I should think it might be a trifle strong +for some stomachs." +</p> + +<p> +He tried to lead the conversation away from +so unpleasant a subject, and went on to talk +rapidly of the values of different foods, of vegetarianism +and vegetarians, and of men who had gone +<a name="page281" id="page281"></a> +for long periods without any food at all. Garvey +listened apparently without interest and had +nothing to say. At the first pause he jumped in +eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"When the hunger is really great on me," he +said, still gazing into the fire, "I simply cannot +control myself. I must have raw meat—the first +I can get—" Here he raised his shining eyes +and Shorthouse felt his hair beginning to rise. +</p> + +<p> +"It comes upon me so suddenly too. I never can +tell when to expect it. A year ago the passion +rose in me like a whirlwind and Marx was out +and I couldn't get meat. I had to get something +or I should have bitten myself. Just when it was +getting unbearable my dog ran out from beneath +the sofa. It was a spaniel." +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse responded with an effort. He +hardly knew what he was saying and his skin +crawled as if a million ants were moving over it. +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause of several minutes. +</p> + +<p> +"I've bitten Marx all over," Garvey went on +presently in his strange quiet voice, and as if he +were speaking of apples; "but he's bitter. I doubt +if the hunger could ever make me do it again. +Probably that's what first drove him to take +shelter in a vacuum." He chuckled hideously as +<a name="page282" id="page282"></a> +he thought of this solution of his attendant's +disappearances. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse seized the poker and poked the fire +as if his life depended on it. But when the +banging and clattering was over Garvey continued +his remarks with the same calmness. The +next sentence, however, was never finished. The +secretary had got upon his feet suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall ask your permission to retire," he +said in a determined voice; "I'm tired to-night; +will you be good enough to show me to my room?" +</p> + +<p> +Garvey looked up at him with a curious cringing +expression behind which there shone the gleam +of cunning passion. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," he said, rising from his chair. +"You've had a tiring journey. I ought to have +thought of that before." +</p> + +<p> +He took the candle from the table and lit it, and +the fingers that held the match trembled. +</p> + +<p> +"We needn't trouble Marx," he explained. "That +beast's in his vacuum by this time." +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +They crossed the hall and began to ascend the +carpetless wooden stairs. They were in the well +<a name="page283" id="page283"></a> +of the house and the air cut like ice. Garvey, the +flickering candle in his hand throwing his face +into strong outline, led the way across the first +landing and opened a door near the mouth of +a dark passage. A pleasant room greeted the +visitor's eyes, and he rapidly took in its points +while his host walked over and lit two candles +that stood on a table at the foot of the bed. A fire +burned brightly in the grate. There were two +windows, opening like doors, in the wall opposite, +and a high canopied bed occupied most of the +space on the right. Panelling ran all round the +room reaching nearly to the ceiling and gave a +warm and cosy appearance to the whole; while +the portraits that stood in alternate panels +suggested somehow the atmosphere of an old +country house in England. Shorthouse was agreeably +surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you'll find everything you need," +Garvey was saying in the doorway. "If not, you +have only to ring that bell by the fireplace. Marx +won't hear it of course, but it rings in my +laboratory, where I spend most of the night." +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a brief good-night, he went out and +shut the door after him. The instant he was gone +Mr. Sidebotham's private secretary did a peculiar +<a name="page284" id="page284"></a> +thing. He planted himself in the middle of the +room with his back to the door, and drawing the +pistol swiftly from his hip pocket levelled it across +his left arm at the window. Standing motionless +in this position for thirty seconds he then suddenly +swerved right round and faced in the other direction, +pointing his pistol straight at the keyhole of +the door. There followed immediately a sound of +shuffling outside and of steps retreating across the +landing. +</p> + +<p> +"On his knees at the keyhole," was the +secretary's reflection. "Just as I thought. But +he didn't expect to look down the barrel of a +pistol and it made him jump a little." +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the steps had gone downstairs and +died away across the hall, Shorthouse went over +and locked the door, stuffing a piece of crumpled +paper into the second keyhole which he saw +immediately above the first. After that, he made +a thorough search of the room. It hardly repaid +the trouble, for he found nothing unusual. Yet he +was glad he had made it. It relieved him to find +no one was in hiding under the bed or in the deep +oak cupboard; and he hoped sincerely it was not +the cupboard in which the unfortunate spaniel had +come to its vile death. The French windows, he +<a name="page285" id="page285"></a> +discovered, opened on to a little balcony. It +looked on to the front, and there was a drop of +less than twenty feet to the ground below. The +bed was high and wide, soft as feathers and +covered with snowy sheets—very inviting to a +tired man; and beside the blazing fire were a +couple of deep armchairs. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether it was very pleasant and comfortable; +but, tired though he was, Shorthouse had no +intention of going to bed. It was impossible to +disregard the warning of his nerves. They had +never failed him before, and when that sense of +distressing horror lodged in his bones he knew +there was something in the wind and that a red +flag was flying over the immediate future. Some +delicate instrument in his being, more subtle than +the senses, more accurate than mere presentiment, +had seen the red flag and interpreted its meaning. +</p> + +<p> +Again it seemed to him, as he sat in an armchair +over the fire, that his movements were being carefully +watched from somewhere; and, not knowing +what weapons might be used against him, he felt +that his real safety lay in a rigid control of his +mind and feelings and a stout refusal to admit that +he was in the least alarmed. +</p> + +<p> +The house was very still. As the night wore on +<a name="page286" id="page286"></a> +the wind dropped. Only occasional bursts of sleet +against the windows reminded him that the +elements were awake and uneasy. Once or twice +the windows rattled and the rain hissed in the +fire, but the roar of the wind in the chimney grew +less and less and the lonely building was at last +lapped in a great stillness. The coals clicked, +settling themselves deeper in the grate, and the +noise of the cinders dropping with a tiny report +into the soft heap of accumulated ashes was the +only sound that punctuated the silence. +</p> + +<p> +In proportion as the power of sleep grew upon +him the dread of the situation lessened; but so +imperceptibly, so gradually, and so insinuatingly +that he scarcely realised the change. He thought +he was as wide awake to his danger as ever. The +successful exclusion of horrible mental pictures of +what he had seen he attributed to his rigorous +control, instead of to their true cause, the creeping +over him of the soft influences of sleep. The +faces in the coals were so soothing; the armchair +was so comfortable; so sweet the breath that +gently pressed upon his eyelids; so subtle the +growth of the sensation of safety. He settled +down deeper into the chair and in another moment +would have been asleep when the red flag began to +<a name="page287" id="page287"></a> +shake violently to and fro and he sat bolt upright +as if he had been stabbed in the back. +</p> + +<p> +Someone was coming up the stairs. The boards +creaked beneath a stealthy weight. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse sprang from the chair and crossed +the room swiftly, taking up his position beside +the door, but out of range of the keyhole. The +two candles flared unevenly on the table at the +foot of the bed. The steps were slow and cautious—it +seemed thirty seconds between each one—but +the person who was taking them was very +close to the door. Already he had topped the +stairs and was shuffling almost silently across the +bit of landing. +</p> + +<p> +The secretary slipped his hand into his pistol +pocket and drew back further against the wall, +and hardly had he completed the movement when +the sounds abruptly ceased and he knew that +somebody was standing just outside the door and +preparing for a careful observation through the +keyhole. +</p> + +<p> +He was in no sense a coward. In action he +was never afraid. It was the waiting and wondering +and the uncertainty that might have loosened +his nerves a little. But, somehow, a wave of +intense horror swept over him for a second as he +<a name="page288" id="page288"></a> +thought of the bestial maniac and his attendant +Jew; and he would rather have faced a pack of +wolves than have to do with either of these men. +</p> + +<p> +Something brushing gently against the door set +his nerves tingling afresh and made him tighten his +grasp on the pistol. The steel was cold and +slippery in his moist fingers. What an awful +noise it would make when he pulled the trigger! +If the door were to open how close he would +be to the figure that came in! Yet he knew +it was locked on the inside and could not possibly +open. Again something brushed against the +panel beside him and a second later the piece of +crumpled paper fell from the keyhole to the floor, +while the piece of thin wire that had accomplished +this result showed its point for a moment in the +room and was then swiftly withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +Somebody was evidently peering now through +the keyhole, and realising this fact the spirit of +attack entered into the heart of the beleaguered +man. Raising aloft his right hand he brought it +suddenly down with a resounding crash upon the +panel of the door next the keyhole—a crash that, +to the crouching eavesdropper, must have seemed +like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky. There +was a gasp and a slight lurching against the door +<a name="page289" id="page289"></a> +and the midnight listener rose startled and alarmed, +for Shorthouse plainly heard the tread of feet +across the landing and down the stairs till they +were lost in the silences of the hall. Only, this time, +it seemed to him there were four feet instead of two. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly stuffing the paper back into the keyhole, +he was in the act of walking back to the fireplace +when, over his shoulder, he caught sight of a white +face pressed in outline against the outside of the +window. It was blurred in the streams of sleet, +but the white of the moving eyes was unmistakable. +He turned instantly to meet it, but the +face was withdrawn like a flash, and darkness +rushed in to fill the gap where it had appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"Watched on both sides," he reflected. +</p> + +<p> +But he was not to be surprised into any sudden +action, and quietly walking over to the fireplace +as if he had seen nothing unusual he stirred the +coals a moment and then strolled leisurely over to +the window. Steeling his nerves, which quivered +a moment in spite of his will, he opened the +window and stepped out on to the balcony. The +wind, which he thought had dropped, rushed past +him into the room and extinguished one of the +candles, while a volley of fine cold rain burst all +over his face. At first he could see nothing, and +the darkness came close up to his eyes like a wall. +<a name="page290" id="page290"></a> +He went a little farther on to the balcony and +drew the window after him till it clashed. Then +he stood and waited. +</p> + +<p> +But nothing touched him. No one seemed to be +there. His eyes got accustomed to the blackness +and he was able to make out the iron railing, the +dark shapes of the trees beyond, and the faint +light coming from the other window. Through +this he peered into the room, walking the length +of the balcony to do so. Of course he was standing +in a shaft of light and whoever was crouching +in the darkness below could plainly see him. +<i>Below?</i>—That there should be anyone <i>above</i> did +not occur to him until, just as he was preparing to +go in again, he became aware that something was +moving in the darkness over his head. He looked +up, instinctively raising a protecting arm, and +saw a long black line swinging against the dim +wall of the house. The shutters of the window +on the next floor, whence it depended, were thrown +open and moving backwards and forwards in the +wind. The line was evidently a thickish cord, for +as he looked it was pulled in and the end disappeared +in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse, trying to whistle to himself, peered +over the edge of the balcony as if calculating the +distance he might have to drop, and then calmly +<a name="page291" id="page291"></a> +walked into the room again and closed the window +behind him, leaving the latch so that the lightest +touch would cause it to fly open. He relit the +candle and drew a straight-backed chair up to +the table. Then he put coal on the fire and +stirred it up into a royal blaze. He would willingly +have folded the shutters over those staring windows +at his back. But that was out of the question. +It would have been to cut off his way of escape. +</p> + +<p> +Sleep, for the time, was at a disadvantage. His +brain was full of blood and every nerve was +tingling. He felt as if countless eyes were upon +him and scores of stained hands were stretching +out from the corners and crannies of the house to +seize him. Crouching figures, figures of hideous +Jews, stood everywhere about him where shelter +was, creeping forward out of the shadows when +he was not looking and retreating swiftly and +silently when he turned his head. Wherever he +looked, other eyes met his own, and though they +melted away under his steady, confident gaze, he +knew they would wax and draw in upon him the +instant his glances weakened and his will wavered. +</p> + +<p> +Though there were no sounds, he knew that in +the well of the house there was movement going on, +<i>and preparation</i>. And this knowledge, inasmuch +as it came to him irresistibly and through other +<a name="page292" id="page292"></a> +and more subtle channels than those of the senses +kept the sense of horror fresh in his blood and +made him alert and awake. +</p> + +<p> +But, no matter how great the dread in the heart, +the power of sleep will eventually overcome it. +Exhausted nature is irresistible, and as the minutes +wore on and midnight passed, he realised that +nature was vigorously asserting herself and sleep +was creeping upon him from the extremities. +</p> + +<p> +To lessen the danger he took out his pencil and +began to draw the articles of furniture in the room. +He worked into elaborate detail the cupboard, the +mantelpiece, and the bed, and from these he passed +on to the portraits. Being possessed of genuine skill, +he found the occupation sufficiently absorbing. It +kept the blood in his brain, and that kept him +awake. The pictures, moreover, now that he considered +them for the first time, were exceedingly +well painted. Owing to the dim light, he centred +his attention upon the portraits beside the fireplace. +On the right was a woman, with a sweet, gentle +face and a figure of great refinement; on the left +was a full-size figure of a big handsome man with +a full beard and wearing a hunting costume of +ancient date. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time he turned to the windows +behind him, but the vision of the face was not +<a name="page293" id="page293"></a> +repeated. More than once, too, he went to the +door and listened, but the silence was so profound +in the house that he gradually came to believe the +plan of attack had been abandoned. Once he went +out on to the balcony, but the sleet stung his face +and he only had time to see that the shutters +above were closed, when he was obliged to seek +the shelter of the room again. +</p> + +<p> +In this way the hours passed. The fire died +down and the room grew chilly. Shorthouse had +made several sketches of the two heads and was +beginning to feel overpoweringly weary. His feet +and his hands were cold and his yawns were prodigious. +It seemed ages and ages since the steps +had come to listen at his door and the face had +watched him from the window. A feeling of +safety had somehow come to him. In reality he +was exhausted. His one desire was to drop upon +the soft white bed and yield himself up to sleep +without any further struggle. +</p> + +<p> +He rose from his chair with a series of yawns +that refused to be stifled and looked at his watch. +It was close upon three in the morning. He made +up his mind that he would lie down with his +clothes on and get some sleep. It was safe enough, +the door was locked on the inside and the window +was fastened. Putting the bag on the table near +<a name="page294" id="page294"></a> +his pillow he blew out the candles and dropped +with a sense of careless and delicious exhaustion +upon the soft mattress. In five minutes he was +sound asleep. +</p> + +<p> +There had scarcely been time for the dreams to +come when he found himself lying side-ways across +the bed with wide open eyes staring into the darkness. +Someone had touched him, and he had +writhed away in his sleep as from something +unholy. The movement had awakened him. +</p> + +<p> +The room was simply black. No light came +from the windows and the fire had gone out as +completely as if water had been poured upon it. +He gazed into a sheet of impenetrable darkness +that came close up to his face like a wall. +</p> + +<p> +His first thought was for the papers in his coat +and his hand flew to the pocket. They were safe; +and the relief caused by this discovery left his +mind instantly free for other reflections. +</p> + +<p> +And the realisation that at once came to him +with a touch of dismay was, that during his sleep +some definite <i>change</i> had been effected in the room. +He felt this with that intuitive certainty which +amounts to positive knowledge. The room was +utterly still, but the corroboration that was speedily +brought to him seemed at once to fill the darkness +with a whispering, secret life that chilled +<a name="page295" id="page295"></a> +his blood and made the sheet feel like ice against +his cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Hark! This was it; there reached his ears, in +which the blood was already buzzing with warning +clamour, a dull murmur of something that rose +indistinctly from the well of the house and became +audible to him without passing through walls or +doors. There seemed no solid surface between +him, lying on the bed, and the landing; between +the landing and the stairs, and between the stairs +and the hall beyond. +</p> + +<p> +He knew that the door of the room <i>was standing +open</i>! Therefore it had been opened from the +<i>inside</i>. Yet the window was fastened, also on the +inside. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly was this realised when the conspiring +silence of the hour was broken by another and a +more definite sound. A step was coming along +the passage. A certain bruise on the hip told +Shorthouse that the pistol in his pocket was ready +for use and he drew it out quickly and cocked it. +Then he just had time to slip over the edge of the +bed and crouch down on the floor when the step +halted on the threshold of the room. The bed was +thus between him and the open door. The window +was at his back. +</p> + +<p> +He waited in the darkness. What struck him +<a name="page296" id="page296"></a> +as peculiar about the steps was that there seemed +no particular desire to move stealthily. There was +no extreme caution. They moved along in rather +a slipshod way and sounded like soft slippers or +feet in stockings. There was something clumsy, +irresponsible, almost reckless about the movement. +</p> + +<p> +For a second the steps paused upon the threshold, +but only for a second. Almost immediately they +came on into the room, and as they passed from +the wood to the carpet Shorthouse noticed that +they became wholly noiseless. He waited in suspense, +not knowing whether the unseen walker +was on the other side of the room or was close +upon him. Presently he stood up and stretched +out his left arm in front of him, groping, searching, +feeling in a circle; and behind it he held the pistol, +cocked and pointed, in his right hand. As he rose +a bone cracked in his knee, his clothes rustled as +if they were newspapers, and his breath seemed +loud enough to be heard all over the room. But +not a sound came to betray the position of the +invisible intruder. +</p> + +<p> +Then, just when the tension was becoming +unbearable, a noise relieved the gripping silence. +It was wood knocking against wood, and it came +from the farther end of the room. The steps had +moved over to the fireplace. A sliding sound +<a name="page297" id="page297"></a> +almost immediately followed it and then silence +closed again over everything like a pall. +</p> + +<p> +For another five minutes Shorthouse waited, and +then the suspense became too much. He could not +stand that open door! The candles were close +beside him and he struck a match and lit them, +expecting in the sudden glare to receive at least +a terrific blow. But nothing happened, and he +saw at once that the room was entirely empty. +Walking over with the pistol cocked he peered +out into the darkness of the landing and then +closed the door and turned the key. Then he +searched the room—bed, cupboard, table, curtains, +everything that could have concealed a man; but +found no trace of the intruder. The owner of the +footsteps had disappeared like a ghost into the +shadows of the night. But for one fact he might +have imagined that he had been dreaming: <i>the bag +had vanished</i>! +</p> + +<p> +There was no more sleep for Shorthouse that +night. His watch pointed to 4 a.m. and there were +still three hours before daylight. He sat down at +the table and continued his sketches. With fixed +determination he went on with his drawing and +began a new outline of the man's head. There +was something in the expression that continually +evaded him. He had no success with it, and this +<a name="page298" id="page298"></a> +time it seemed to him that it was the eyes that +brought about his discomfiture. He held up his +pencil before his face to measure the distance between +the nose and the eyes, and to his amazement +he saw that a change had come over the features. +The eyes were no longer open. <i>The lids had closed!</i> +</p> + +<p> +For a second he stood in a sort of stupefied +astonishment. A push would have toppled him +over. Then he sprang to his feet and held a candle +close up to the picture. The eye-lids quivered, +the eye-lashes trembled. Then, right before his +gaze, the eyes opened and looked straight into his +own. Two holes were cut in the panel and this +pair of eyes, human eyes, just fitted them. +</p> + +<p> +As by a curious effect of magic, the strong fear +that had governed him ever since his entry into +the house disappeared in a second. Anger rushed +into his heart and his chilled blood rose suddenly +to boiling point. Putting the candle down, he +took two steps back into the room and then flung +himself forward with all his strength against the +painted panel. Instantly, and before the crash +came, the eyes were withdrawn, and two black +spaces showed where they had been. The old +huntsman was eyeless. But the panel cracked +and split inwards like a sheet of thin cardboard; +and Shorthouse, pistol in hand, thrust an arm +<a name="page299" id="page299"></a> +through the jagged aperture and, seizing a human +leg, dragged out into the room—the Jew! +</p> + +<p> +Words rushed in such a torrent to his lips that +they choked him. The old Hebrew, white as chalk, +stood shaking before him, the bright pistol barrel +opposite his eyes, when a volume of cold air rushed +into the room, and with it a sound of hurried steps. +Shorthouse felt his arm knocked up before he had +time to turn, and the same second Garvey, who +had somehow managed to burst open the window +came between him and the trembling Marx. His +lips were parted and his eyes rolled strangely in +his distorted face. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't shoot him! Shoot in the air!" he shrieked. +He seized the Jew by the shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"You damned hound," he roared, hissing in his +face. "So I've got you at last. That's where your +vacuum is, is it? I know your vile hiding-place at +last." He shook him like a dog. "I've been after +him all night," he cried, turning to Shorthouse, "all +night, I tell you, and I've got him at last." +</p> + +<p> +Garvey lifted his upper lip as he spoke and +showed his teeth. They shone like the fangs of +a wolf. The Jew evidently saw them too, for he +gave a horrid yell and struggled furiously. +</p> + +<p> +Before the eyes of the secretary a mist seemed +to rise. The hideous shadow again leaped into +<a name="page300" id="page300"></a> +Garvey's face. He foresaw a dreadful battle, and +covering the two men with his pistol he retreated +slowly to the door. Whether they were both mad, +or both criminal, he did not pause to inquire. The +only thought present in his mind was that the +sooner he made his escape the better. +</p> + +<p> +Garvey was still shaking the Jew when he +reached the door and turned the key, but as he +passed out on to the landing both men stopped +their struggling and turned to face him. Garvey's +face, bestial, loathsome, livid with anger; the Jew's +white and grey with fear and horror;—both turned +towards him and joined in a wild, horrible yell that +woke the echoes of the night. The next second +they were after him at full speed. +</p> + +<p> +Shorthouse slammed the door in their faces and +was at the foot of the stairs, crouching in the +shadow, before they were out upon the landing. +They tore shrieking down the stairs and past him, +into the hall; and, wholly unnoticed, Shorthouse +whipped up the stairs again, crossed the bedroom +and dropped from the balcony into the soft snow. +</p> + +<p> +As he ran down the drive he heard behind him in +the house the yells of the maniacs; and when +he reached home several hours later Mr. Sidebotham +not only raised his salary but also told him to buy +a new hat and overcoat, and send in the bill to him. +<a name="page301" id="page301"></a> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="chapter10" id="chapter10">SKELETON LAKE: AN EPISODE IN CAMP</a></h2> + + +<p> +The utter loneliness of our moose-camp on Skeleton +Lake had impressed us from the beginning—in the +Quebec backwoods, five days by trail and canoe +from civilisation—and perhaps the singular name +contributed a little to the sensation of eeriness that +made itself felt in the camp circle when once the +sun was down and the late October mists began +rising from the lake and winding their way in +among the tree trunks. +</p> + +<p> +For, in these regions, all names of lakes and hills +and islands have their origin in some actual event, +taking either the name of a chief participant, such +as Smith's Ridge, or claiming a place in the map +by perpetuating some special feature of the journey +or the scenery, such as Long Island, Deep Rapids, +or Rainy Lake. +</p> + +<p> +All names thus have their meaning and are +usually pretty recently acquired, while the majority +are self-explanatory and suggest human and pioneer +relations. Skeleton Lake, therefore, was a name +<a name="page302" id="page302"></a> +full of suggestion, and though none of us knew the +origin or the story of its birth, we all were conscious +of a certain lugubrious atmosphere that haunted its +shores and islands, and but for the evidences of +recent moose tracks in its neighbourhood we +should probably have pitched our tents elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +For several hundred miles in any direction we +knew of only one other party of whites. They +had journeyed up on the train with us, getting in +at North Bay, and hailing from Boston way. A +common goal and object had served by way of +introduction. But the acquaintance had made +little progress. This noisy, aggressive Yankee did +not suit our fancy much as a possible neighbour, +and it was only a slight intimacy between his chief +guide, Jake the Swede, and one of our men that +kept the thing going at all. They went into camp +on Beaver Creek, fifty miles and more to the west +of us. +</p> + +<p> +But that was six weeks ago, and seemed as many +months, for days and nights pass slowly in these +solitudes and the scale of time changes wonderfully. +Our men always seemed to know by instinct pretty +well "whar them other fellows was movin'," but in +the interval no one had come across their trails, or +once so much as heard their rifle shots. +</p> + +<p> +Our little camp consisted of the professor, his +<a name="page303" id="page303"></a> +wife, a splendid shot and keen woods-woman, and +myself. We had a guide apiece, and hunted daily +in pairs from before sunrise till dark. +</p> + +<p> +It was our last evening in the woods, and the +professor was lying in my little wedge tent, discussing +the dangers of hunting alone in couples in +this way. The flap of the tent hung back and let +in fragrant odours of cooking over an open wood +fire; everywhere there were bustle and preparation, +and one canoe already lay packed with moose horns, +her nose pointing southwards. +</p> + +<p> +"If an accident happened to one of them," he +was saying, "the survivor's story when he returned +to camp would be entirely unsupported evidence, +wouldn't it? Because, you see—" +</p> + +<p> +And he went on laying down the law after the +manner of professors, until I became so bored that +my attention began to wander to pictures and +memories of the scenes we were just about to leave: +Garden Lake, with its hundred islands; the rapids +out of Round Pond; the countless vistas of forest, +crimson and gold in the autumn sunshine; and the +starlit nights we had spent watching in cold, cramped +positions for the wary moose on lonely lakes among +the hills. The hum of the professor's voice in +time grew more soothing. A nod or a grunt was +all the reply he looked for. Fortunately, he loathed +<a name="page304" id="page304"></a> +interruptions. I think I could almost have gone +to sleep under his very nose; perhaps I did sleep +for a brief interval. +</p> + +<p> +Then it all came about so quickly, and the tragedy +of it was so unexpected and painful, throwing our +peaceful camp into momentary confusion, that now +it all seems to have happened with the uncanny +swiftness of a dream. +</p> + +<p> +First, there was the abrupt ceasing of the droning +voice, and then the running of quick little steps +over the pine needles, and the confusion of men's +voices; and the next instant the professor's wife +was at the tent door, hatless, her face white, her +hunting bloomers bagging at the wrong places, a +rifle in her hand, and her words running into one +another anyhow. +</p> + +<p> +"Quick, Harry! It's Rushton. I was asleep +and it woke me. Something's happened. You +must deal with it!" +</p> + +<p> +In a second we were outside the tent with our +rifles. +</p> + +<p> +"My God!" I heard the professor exclaim, as if +he had first made the discovery. "It <i>is</i> Rushton!" +</p> + +<p> +I saw the guides helping—dragging—a man out +of a canoe. A brief space of deep silence followed +in which I heard only the waves from the canoe +washing up on the sand; and then, immediately +<a name="page305" id="page305"></a> +after, came the voice of a man talking with amazing +rapidity and with odd gaps between his words. It +was Rushton telling his story, and the tones of his +voice, now whispering, now almost shouting, mixed +with sobs and solemn oaths and frequent appeals to +the Deity, somehow or other struck the false note +at the very start, and before any of us guessed or +knew anything at all. Something moved secretly +between his words, a shadow veiling the stars, +destroying the peace of our little camp, and touching +us all personally with an undefinable sense of +horror and distrust. +</p> + +<p> +I can see that group to this day, with all the +detail of a good photograph: standing half-way +between the firelight and the darkness, a slight +mist rising from the lake, the frosty stars, and our +men, in silence that was all sympathy, dragging +Rushton across the rocks towards the camp fire. +Their moccasins crunched on the sand and slipped +several times on the stones beneath the weight of +the limp, exhausted body, and I can still see every +inch of the pared cedar branch he had used for a +paddle on that lonely and dreadful journey. +</p> + +<p> +But what struck me most, as it struck us all, +was the limp exhaustion of his body compared to +the strength of his utterance and the tearing rush +of his words. A vigorous driving-power was there +<a name="page306" id="page306"></a> +at work, forcing out the tale, red-hot and throbbing, +full of discrepancies and the strangest contradictions; +and the nature of this driving-power I first +began to appreciate when they had lifted him into +the circle of firelight and I saw his face, grey +under the tan, terror in the eyes, tears too, hair +and beard awry, and listened to the wild stream +of words pouring forth without ceasing. +</p> + +<p> +I think we all understood then, but it was only +after many years that anyone dared to confess +what he thought. +</p> + +<p> +There was Matt Morris, my guide; Silver Fizz, +whose real name was unknown, and who bore the +title of his favourite drink; and huge Hank +Milligan—all ears and kind intention; and there +was Rushton, pouring out his ready-made tale, +with ever-shifting eyes, turning from face to face, +seeking confirmation of details none had witnessed +but himself—and <i>one other</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Silver Fizz was the first to recover from the +shock of the thing, and to realise, with the natural +sense of chivalry common to most genuine back-woodsmen, +that the man was at a terrible disadvantage. +At any rate, he was the first to start +putting the matter to rights. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind telling it just now," he said in a +gruff voice, but with real gentleness; "get a bite +<a name="page307" id="page307"></a> +t'eat first and then let her go afterwards. Better +have a horn of whisky too. It ain't all packed +yet, I guess." +</p> + +<p> +"Couldn't eat or drink a thing," cried the other. +"Good Lord, don't you see, man, I want to <i>talk</i> to +someone first? I want to get it out of me to +someone who can answer—answer. I've had +nothing but trees to talk with for three days, and +I can't carry it alone any longer. Those cursed, +silent trees—I've told it 'em a thousand times. +Now, just see here, it was this way. When we +started out from camp—" +</p> + +<p> +He looked fearfully about him, and we realised +it was useless to stop him. The story was bound +to come, and come it did. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the story itself was nothing out of the +way; such tales are told by the dozen round any +camp fire where men who have knocked about in the +woods are in the circle. It was the way he told it +that made our flesh creep. He was near the truth +all along, but he was skimming it, and the skimming +took off the cream that might have saved his soul. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, he smothered it in words—odd words, +too—melodramatic, poetic, out-of-the-way words +that lie just on the edge of frenzy. Of course, too, +he kept asking us each in turn, scanning our faces +with those restless, frightened eyes of his, "What +<a name="page308" id="page308"></a> +would <i>you</i> have done?" "What else could I do?" +and "Was that <i>my</i> fault?" But that was nothing, +for he was no milk-and-water fellow who dealt in +hints and suggestions; he told his story boldly, +forcing his conclusions upon us as if we had been +so many wax cylinders of a phonograph that would +repeat accurately what had been told us, and these +questions I have mentioned he used to emphasise +any special point that he seemed to think required +such emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +The fact was, however, the picture of what had +actually happened was so vivid still in his own +mind that it reached ours by a process of telepathy +which he could not control or prevent. All through +his true-false words this picture stood forth in +fearful detail against the shadows behind him. He +could not veil, much less obliterate, it. We knew; +and, I always thought, <i>he knew that we knew</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The story itself, as I have said, was sufficiently +ordinary. Jake and himself, in a nine-foot canoe, +had upset in the middle of a lake, and had held +hands across the upturned craft for several hours, +eventually cutting holes in her ribs to stick their +arms through and grasp hands lest the numbness of +the cold water should overcome them. They were +miles from shore, and the wind was drifting them +down upon a little island. But when they got within +<a name="page309" id="page309"></a> +a few hundred yards of the island, they realised +to their horror that they would after all drift past it. +</p> + +<p> +It was then the quarrel began. Jake was for +leaving the canoe and swimming. Rushton +believed in waiting till they actually had passed +the island and were sheltered from the wind. Then +they could make the island easily by swimming, +canoe and all. But Jake refused to give in, and +after a short struggle—Rushton admitted there +was a struggle—got free from the canoe—and +disappeared <i>without a single cry</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Rushton held on and proved the correctness of +his theory, and finally made the island, canoe and +all, after being in the water over five hours. He +described to us how he crawled up on to the shore, +and fainted at once, with his feet lying half in the +water; how lost and terrified he felt upon regaining +consciousness in the dark; how the canoe had +drifted away and his extraordinary luck in finding +it caught again at the end of the island by a +projecting cedar branch. He told us that the little +axe—another bit of real luck—had caught in the +thwart when the canoe turned over, and how the +little bottle in his pocket holding the emergency +matches was whole and dry. He made a blazing +fire and searched the island from end to end, calling +upon Jake in the darkness, but getting no answer; +<a name="page310" id="page310"></a> +till, finally, so many half-drowned men seemed to +come crawling out of the water on to the rocks, and +vanish among the shadows when he came up with +them, that he lost his nerve completely and returned +to lie down by the fire till the daylight came. +</p> + +<p> +He then cut a bough to replace the lost paddles, +and after one more useless search for his lost +companion, he got into the canoe, fearing every +moment he would upset again, and crossed over to +the mainland. He knew roughly the position of +our camping place, and after paddling day and +night, and making many weary portages, without +food or covering, he reached us two days later. +</p> + +<p> +This, more or less, was the story, and we, +knowing whereof he spoke, knew that every word +was literally true, and at the same time went to +the building up of a hideous and prodigious lie. +</p> + +<p> +Once the recital was over, he collapsed, and +Silver Fizz, after a general expression of sympathy +from the rest of us, came again to the rescue. +</p> + +<p> +"But now, Mister, you jest <i>got</i> to eat and drink +whether you've a mind to, or no." +</p> + +<p> +And Matt Morris, cook that night, soon had the +fried trout and bacon, and the wheat cakes and +hot coffee passing round a rather silent and +oppressed circle. So we ate round the fire, +ravenously, as we had eaten every night for the +<a name="page311" id="page311"></a> +past six weeks, but with this difference: that there +was one among us who was more than ravenous—and +he gorged. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of all our devices he somehow kept +himself the centre of observation. When his tin +mug was empty, Morris instantly passed the tea-pail; +when he began to mop up the bacon grease +with the dough on his fork, Hank reached out for +the frying pan; and the can of steaming boiled +potatoes was always by his side. And there was +another difference as well: he was sick, terribly +sick before the meal was over, and this sudden +nausea after food was more eloquent than words of +what the man had passed through on his dreadful, +foodless, ghost-haunted journey of forty miles to +our camp. In the darkness he thought he would +go crazy, he said. There were voices in the trees, +and figures were always lifting themselves out of +the water, or from behind boulders, to look at him +and make awful signs. Jake constantly peered at +him through the underbrush, and everywhere the +shadows were moving, with eyes, footsteps, and +following shapes. +</p> + +<p> +We tried hard to talk of other things, but it was +no use, for he was bursting with the rehearsal of +his story and refused to allow himself the chances +we were so willing and anxious to grant him. +<a name="page312" id="page312"></a> +After a good night's rest he might have had more +self-control and better judgment, and would +probably have acted differently. But, as it was, +we found it impossible to help him. +</p> + +<p> +Once the pipes were lit, and the dishes cleared +away, it was useless to pretend any longer. The +sparks from the burning logs zigzagged upwards +into a sky brilliant with stars. It was all wonderfully +still and peaceful, and the forest odours +floated to us on the sharp autumn air. The cedar +fire smelt sweet and we could just hear the gentle +wash of tiny waves along the shore. All was calm, +beautiful, and remote from the world of men and +passion. It was, indeed, a night to touch the soul, +and yet, I think, none of us heeded these things. +A bull-moose might almost have thrust his great +head over our shoulders and have escaped unnoticed. +The death of Jake the Swede, with its sinister +setting, was the real presence that held the centre +of the stage and compelled attention. +</p> + +<p> +"You won't p'raps care to come along, Mister," said +Morris, by way of a beginning; "but I guess I'll go +with one of the boys here and have a hunt for it." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure," said Hank. "Jake an' I done some +biggish trips together in the old days, and I'll +do that much for'm." +</p> + +<p> +"It's deep water, they tell me, round them +<a name="page313" id="page313"></a> +islands," added Silver Fizz; "but we'll find it, sure +pop,—if it's thar." +</p> + +<p> +They all spoke of the body as "it." +</p> + +<p> +There was a minute or two of heavy silence, and +then Rushton again burst out with his story in +almost the identical words he had used before. It +was almost as if he had learned it by heart. He +wholly failed to appreciate the efforts of the others +to let him off. +</p> + +<p> +Silver Fizz rushed in, hoping to stop him, Morris +and Hank closely following his lead. +</p> + +<p> +"I once knew another travellin' partner of his," +he began quickly; "used to live down Moosejaw +Rapids way—" +</p> + +<p> +"Is that so?" said Hank. +</p> + +<p> +"Kind o' useful sort er feller," chimed in Morris. +</p> + +<p> +All the idea the men had was to stop the tongue +wagging before the discrepancies became so glaring +that we should be forced to take notice of them, +and ask questions. But, just as well try to stop +an angry bull-moose on the run, or prevent Beaver +Creek freezing in mid-winter by throwing in pebbles +near the shore. Out it came! And, though the +discrepancy this time was insignificant, it somehow +brought us all in a second face to face with the +inevitable and dreaded climax. +</p> + +<p> +"And so I tramped all over that little bit of an +<a name="page314" id="page314"></a> +island, hoping he might somehow have gotten in +without my knowing it, and always thinking I +<i>heard that awful last cry of his</i> in the darkness—and +then the night dropped down impenetrably, +like a damn thick blanket out of the sky, and—" +</p> + +<p> +All eyes fell away from his face. Hank poked +up the logs with his boot, and Morris seized an +ember in his bare fingers to light his pipe, although +it was already emitting clouds of smoke. But the +professor caught the ball flying. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you said he sank without a cry," +he remarked quietly, looking straight up into +the frightened face opposite, and then riddling +mercilessly the confused explanation that followed. +</p> + +<p> +The cumulative effect of all these forces, hitherto +so rigorously repressed, now made itself felt, and +the circle spontaneously broke up, everybody +moving at once by a common instinct. The +professor's wife left the party abruptly, with +excuses about an early start next morning. She +first shook hands with Rushton, mumbling something +about his comfort in the night. +</p> + +<p> +The question of his comfort, however, devolved +by force of circumstances upon myself, and he +shared my tent. Just before wrapping up in my +double blankets—for the night was bitterly cold—he +turned and began to explain that he had a habit +<a name="page315" id="page315"></a> +of talking in his sleep and hoped I would wake +him if he disturbed me by doing so. +</p> + +<p> +Well, he did talk in his sleep—and it disturbed +me very much indeed. The anger and violence of +his words remain with me to this day, and it was +clear in a minute that he was living over again +some portion of the scene upon the lake. I listened, +horror-struck, for a moment or two, and then understood +that I was face to face with one of two alternatives: +I must continue an unwilling eavesdropper, or +I must waken him. The former was impossible for +me, yet I shrank from the latter with the greatest +repugnance; and in my dilemma I saw the only +way out of the difficulty and at once accepted it. +</p> + +<p> +Cold though it was, I crawled stealthily out of +my warm sleeping-bag and left the tent, intending +to keep the old fire alight under the stars and spend +the remaining hours till daylight in the open. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as I was out I noticed at once another +figure moving silently along the shore. It was +Hank Milligan, and it was plain enough what he +was doing: he was examining the holes that had +been cut in the upper ribs of the canoe. He looked +half ashamed when I came up with him, and +mumbled something about not being able to sleep +for the cold. But, there, standing together beside +the over-turned canoe, we both saw that the holes +<a name="page316" id="page316"></a> +were far too small for a man's hand and arm and +could not possibly have been cut by two men +hanging on for their lives in deep water. Those +holes had been made afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +Hank said nothing to me and I said nothing to +Hank, and presently he moved off to collect logs +for the fire, which needed replenishing, for it was a +piercingly cold night and there were many degrees +of frost. +</p> + +<p> +Three days later Hank and Silver Fizz followed +with stumbling footsteps the old Indian trail that +leads from Beaver Creek to the southwards. A +hammock was slung between them, and it weighed +heavily. Yet neither of the men complained; and, +indeed, speech between them was almost nothing. +Their thoughts, however, were exceedingly busy, +and the terrible secret of the woods which formed +their burden weighed far more heavily than the +uncouth, shifting mass that lay in the swinging +hammock and tugged so severely at their shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +They had found "it" in four feet of water not +more than a couple of yards from the lee shore of +the island. And in the back of the head was a +long, terrible wound which no man could possibly +have inflicted upon himself. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p style="text-align: center;"> +<i>Printed by</i> MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED, <i>Edinburgh.</i> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>John Silence</h3> + +<h3>by Algernon Blackwood</h3> + +<p> +"Not since the days of Poe have we read anything in +his peculiar genre fit to be compared with this remarkable +book. . . . He brings to his work an extraordinary knowledge +of strange and unusual forms of spiritualistic phenomena, +and steeps his pages in an atmosphere of real terror and +expectancy."—<i>Observer</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"When one says that Mr. Blackwood's work approaches +genius, the phrase is used in no light connection. This very +remarkable book is a considerable and lasting addition to +the literature of our time."—<i>Morning Post</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"These are the most haunting and original ghost stories +since 'Uncle Silas' appeared."—<i>Morning Leader</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"In the field which he has chosen, Mr. Blackwood stands +without rival among contemporary writers."—<i>Manchester Guardian</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"As original, as powerful, and as artistically written as +that little masterpiece of Lytton's, 'The Haunters and the +Haunted.' He bears favourable comparison with Le Fanu. . . . +A volume which has an extraordinary power of fascination."—<i>Birmingham +Daily Post</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"The story is absolutely arresting in its imaginative +power."—<i>Daily Telegraph</i>. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h4> +UNIFORM EDITION<br /> +3s. 6d. net +</h4> + +<h4> +EVELEIGH NASH COMPANY LIMITED<br /> +36 King Street, Covent Garden, London, W.C. +</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>The Lost Valley</h3> + +<h3>by Algernon Blackwood</h3> + + +<p> +"In one of the stories, 'The Wendigo,' the author gives us, +perhaps, one of the most successful excursions into the grimly +weird; quietly but surely he makes his reader come under the +influence of the eerie, until the pages are half-reluctantly turned +under the spell of a fearful fascination. Mr. Blackwood writes +like a real artist."—<i>Daily Telegraph</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"The book of a remarkably gifted writer."—<i>Daily News</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"The stories are unforgettable. Through them all, too, runs +the charm of an accomplished style. . . . Mr. Blackwood has +indeed done well."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Whether concerned with beauty or terror, fact or fancy, +there is an individuality in Mr. Blackwood's work which cannot +be ignored, and there is also power which proceeds, we think, +not so much from the fertility of a comprehensive imagination, +but from the amazing conviction of the author's power of +expression, and a literary quality rarely met with in contemporary +stories of mystery and imagination."—<i>Globe</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"In his method of touching the well-springs of fear, of pity, +and of horror, Mr. Blackwood often exhibits powers which can +only properly be called masterly. In its way his work bids fair +to become classical . . . an art superior to that of Bulwer-Lytton, +at least as fine as Le Fanu's, and hardly, if at all, inferior to that +exhibited by the supreme living masters of the short story, Mr. +Kipling and Mr. James."—<i>Birmingham Daily Post</i>. +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h4> +UNIFORM EDITION<br /> +3s. 6d. net +</h4> + +<h4> +EVELEIGH NASH COMPANY LIMITED<br /> +36 King Street, Covent Garden, London, W.C. +</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>The Listener</h3> + +<h3>by Algernon Blackwood</h3> + + +<p> +"These stories are literature . . . good stories, well +imagined, carefully modelled, properly proportioned. . . . +'The Insanity of Jones' is perhaps the most remarkable +<i>tour de force</i> in this remarkable book. . . . If Mr. Blackwood +keeps at his present level one or two very celebrated authors +will have to look to their laurels."—<i>Daily Chronicle</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Even Edgar Allan Poe never suggested more skilfully an +atmosphere of horror than does Mr. Blackwood in his titular +story, or again in his description of 'The Willows.'"—F.G. +BETTANY in the <i>Sunday Times</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Saying that Mr. Blackwood's latest stories reveal strong +dramatic instinct is a dull way of expressing the series of +thrills which their perusal causes. Without doubt Mr. +Blackwood is designed to fill a high place as an author who +is able to arouse the attention of his reader on the first page, +and to hold it until the last has been turned. . . . A +distinctive genius."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Full of imagination, and well told."—<i>Daily News</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Blackwood is clearly a master of the art of the +genuine sensation story."—<i>Liverpool Courier</i>. +</p> + + +<h4> +UNIFORM EDITION<br /> +3s. 6d. net +</h4> + + +<h4> +EVELEIGH NASH COMPANY LIMITED<br /> +36 King Street, Covent Garden, London, W.C. +</h4> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14471 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> |