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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31840-h.zip b/31840-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4e17dc --- /dev/null +++ b/31840-h.zip diff --git a/31840-h/31840-h.htm b/31840-h/31840-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ab44fe --- /dev/null +++ b/31840-h/31840-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1102 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ring Once for Death, by Robert Arthur + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.p1 { font-size:xx-large; font-weight:bold; text-align:center; } + +.p2 { font-size: x-large; font-weight:bold; text-align:center; } + +.p3 { font-size: larger; font-weight:bold; text-align:center; } + + +.center {text-align: center;} + + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 0em; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ring Once for Death, by Robert Andrew Arthur + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ring Once for Death + +Author: Robert Andrew Arthur + +Illustrator: Ernie Barth + +Release Date: March 31, 2010 [EBook #31840] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RING ONCE FOR DEATH *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Amazing Stories March 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="556" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div> +<img class="figright" src="images/image_001_01.jpg" width="800" height="212" alt="" title="" /> +<img class="figright" src="images/image_001_02.jpg" width="482" height="319" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="p1">RING ONCE<br /> +FOR DEATH</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="p2">BY ROBERT ARTHUR</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="p3">Illustrator: Ernie Barth</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The power of the old gods was certainly nothing for Mark +and Edith—a modern, twentieth-century couple—to worry +about. After all—everybody dies!</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="31" height="40" /></div> +<p>wenty years had left no trace inside Sam Kee's little shop on Mott +Street. There were the same dusty jars of ginseng root and tigers' +whiskers, the same little bronze Buddahs, the same gim-cracks mixed +with fine jade. Edith Williams gave a little murmur of pleasure as the +door shut behind them.</p> + +<p>"Mark," she said, "it hasn't changed! It doesn't look as if a thing +had been sold since we were here on our honeymoon."</p> + +<p>"It certainly doesn't," Dr. Mark Williams agreed, moving down the +narrow aisle behind her. "If someone hadn't told us Sam Kee was dead, +I'd believe we'd stepped back twenty years in time, like they do in +those scientific stories young David reads."</p> + +<p>"We must buy something," his wife said. "For a twentieth anniversary +present for me. Perhaps a bell?"</p> + +<p>From the shadowy depths of the shop a young man emerged, American in +dress and manner despite the Oriental contours of his face and eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," he said. "May I show you something?"</p> + +<p>"We think we want a bell," Dr. Williams chuckled. "But we aren't quite +sure. You're Sam Kee's son?"</p> + +<p>"Sam Kee, junior. My honored father passed to the halls of his +ancestors five years ago. I could just say that he died—" black eyes +twinkled—"but customers like the more flowery mode of speech. They +think it's quaint."</p> + +<p>"I think it's just nice, and not quaint at all," Edith Williams +declared. "We're sorry your father is dead. We'd hoped to see him +again. Twenty years ago when we were a very broke young couple on a +honeymoon he sold us a wonderful rose-crystal necklace for half +price."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he still made a profit." The black eyes twinkled again. "But +if you'd like a bell, here are small temple bells, camel bells, dinner +bells...."</p> + +<p>But even as he spoke, Edith Williams' hand darted to something at the +back of the shelf.</p> + +<p>"A bell carved out of crystal!" she exclaimed. "And rose-crystal at +that. What could be more perfect? A rose-crystal wedding present and a +rose-crystal anniversary present!"</p> + +<p>The young man half stretched out his hand.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you want that," he said. "It's broken."</p> + +<p>"Broken?" Edith Williams rubbed off the dust and held the lovely +bell-shape of crystal, the size of a pear, to the light. "It looks +perfect to me."</p> + +<p>"I mean it is not complete." Something of the American had vanished +from the young man. "It has no clapper. It will not ring."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's right." Mark Williams took the bell. "The clapper's +missing."</p> + +<p>"We can have another clapper made," his wife declared. "That is, if +the original can't be found?"</p> + +<p>The young Chinese shook his head.</p> + +<p>"The bell and the clapper were deliberately separated by my father +twenty years ago." He hesitated, then added: "My father was afraid of +this bell."</p> + +<p>"Afraid of it?" Mark Williams raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>The other hesitated again.</p> + +<p>"It will probably sound like a story for tourists," he said. "But my +father believed it. This bell was supposedly stolen from the temple of +a sect of Buddhists somewhere in the mountains of China's interior. +Just as many Occidentals believe that the Christian Judgement Day will +be heralded by a blast on St. Peter's trumpet, so this small sect is +said to believe that when a bell like this one is rung, a bell carved +from a single piece of rose crystal, and consecrated by ceremonies +lasting ten years, any dead within sound of it will rise and live +again."</p> + +<p>"Heavenly!" Edith Williams cried. "And no pun intended. Mark, think +what a help this bell will be in your practise when we make it ring +again!" To the Chinese she added, smiling: "I'm just teasing him. My +husband is really a very fine surgeon."</p> + +<p>The other bowed his head.</p> + +<p>"I must tell you," he said, "you will not be able to make it ring. +Only the original clapper, carved from the same block of rose crystal, +will ring it. That is why my father separated them."</p> + +<p>Again he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I have told you only half of what my father told me. He said that, +though it defeats death, Death can not be defeated. Robbed of his +chosen victim, he takes another in his place. Thus when the bell was +used in the temple of its origin—let us say when a high priest or a +chief had died—a slave or servant was placed handy for Death to take +when he had been forced to relinquish his grasp upon the important +one."</p> + +<p>He smiled, shook his head.</p> + +<p>"There," he said. "A preposterous story. Now if you wish it, the bell +is ten dollars. Plus, of course, sales tax."</p> + +<p>"The story alone is worth more," Dr. Williams declared. "I think we'd +better have it sent, hadn't we, Edith? It'll be safer in the mail than +in our suitcase."</p> + +<p>"Sent?" His wife seemed to come out of some deep feminine meditation. +"Oh, of course. And as for its not ringing—I shall make it ring. I +know I shall."</p> + +<p>"If the story is true," Mark Williams murmured, "I hope not...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The package came on a Saturday morning, when Mark Williams was +catching up on the latest medical publications in his untidy, +book-lined study. He heard Edith unwrapping paper in the hall outside. +Then she came in with the rose-crystal bell in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Mark, it's here!" she said. "Now to make it ring."</p> + +<p>She plumped herself down beside his desk. He took the bell and reached +for a silver pencil.</p> + +<p>"Just for the sake of curiosity," he remarked, "and not because I +believe that delightful sales talk we were given, let's see if it will +ring when I tap. It should, you know."</p> + +<p>He tapped the lip of the bell. A muted <i>thunk</i> was the only response. +Then he tried with a coin, a paper knife, and the bottom of a glass. +In each instance the resulting sound was nothing like a bell ringing.</p> + +<p>"If you've finished, Mark," Edith said then, with feminine tolerance, +"let me show you how it's done."</p> + +<p>"Gladly," her husband agreed. She took the bell and turned away for a +moment. Then she shook the bell vigorously. A clear, sweet ringing +shivered through the room—so thin and etherial that small involuntary +shivers crawled up his spine.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "How did you do that?"</p> + +<p>"I just put the clapper back in place with some thread," Edith told +him.</p> + +<p>"The clapper?" He struck his forehead with his palm. "Don't tell +me—the crystal necklace we bought twenty years ago!"</p> + +<p>"Of course." Her tone was composed. "As soon as young Sam Kee told us +about his father's separating the clapper and the bell, I remembered +the central crystal pendant on my necklace. It <i>is</i> shaped like a bell +clapper—we mentioned it once.</p> + +<p>"I guessed right away we had the missing clapper. But I didn't say so. +I wanted to score on you, Mark—" she smiled affectionately at +him—"and because, you know, I had a queer feeling Sam Kee, junior, +wouldn't let us have the bell if he guessed we had the clapper."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he would." Mark Williams picked up his pipe and rubbed +the bowl with his thumb. "Yet he didn't really believe that story he +told us any more than we do."</p> + +<p>"No, but his father did. And if old Sam Kee had told it to +us—remember how wrinkled and wise he seemed?—I do believe we'd have +believed the story."</p> + +<p>"You're probably right." Dr. Williams rang the bell and waited. The +thin, sweet sound seemed to hang in the air a long moment, then was +gone.</p> + +<p>"Nope," he said. "Nothing happened. Although, of course, that may be +because there was no deceased around to respond."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure I feel like joking about the story." A small frown +gathered on Edith's forehead. "I had planned to use the bell as a +dinner bell and to tell the story to our guests. But now—I'm not +sure."</p> + +<p>Frowning, she stared at the bell until the ringing of the telephone in +the hall brought her out of her abstraction.</p> + +<p>"Sit still, I'll answer." She hurried out. Dr. Williams, turning the +rose crystal bell over in his hand, could hear the sudden tension in +her voice as she answered. He was on his feet when she reentered.</p> + +<p>"An emergency operation at the hospital," she sighed. "Nice young +man—automobile accident. Fracture of the skull, Dr. Amos says. He +wouldn't have disturbed you but you're the only brain man in town, +with Dr. Hendryx away on vacation."</p> + +<p>"I know." He was already in the hall, reaching for his hat. "Man's +work is from sun to sun, but a doctor's work is never done," he +misquoted.</p> + +<p>"I'll drive you." Edith followed him out. "You sit back and relax for +another ten minutes...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Two hours later, as they drove homeward, the traffic was light, which +was fortunate. More than once Mark, in a frowning abstraction, found +himself on the left of the center line and had to pull back into his +own lane.</p> + +<p>He had lost patients before, but never without a feeling of personal +defeat. Edith said he put too much of himself into every operation. +Perhaps he did. And yet—No, there was every reason why the young man +should have lived. Yet, just as Mark Williams had felt that he had +been successful, the patient had died.</p> + +<p>In twenty years of marriage, Edith Williams had learned to read his +thoughts at times. Now she put a hand comfortingly on his arm.</p> + +<p>"These things happen, darling," she said. "You know that. A doctor can +only do so much. Some of the job always remains in the hands of +Nature. And she does play tricks at times."</p> + +<p>"Yes, confound it, I know it," her husband growled. "But I resent +losing that lad. There was no valid reason for it—unless there was +some complication I overlooked." He shook his head, scowling. "I +ordered an autopsy but—Yes, I'm going to do that autopsy myself. I'm +going to turn back and do it now. I have to know!"</p> + +<p>He pulled abruptly to the left to swing into a side road and turn. +Edith Williams never saw the car that hit them. She heard the frantic +blare of a horn and a scream of brakes, and in a frozen instant +realized that there had been someone behind them, about to pass. Then +the impact came, throwing her forward into the windshield and +unconsciousness.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Edith Williams opened her eyes. Even before she realized that she was +lying on the ground and that the figure bending over her was a State +Trooper, she remembered the crash. Her head hurt but there was no +confusion in her mind. Automatically, even as she tried to sit up, she +accepted the fact that there had been a crash, help had come, and she +must have been unconscious for several minutes at least.</p> + +<p>"Hey, lady, take it easy!" the Trooper protested. "You had a bad bump. +You got to lie still until the ambulance gets here. It'll be along in +five minutes."</p> + +<p>"Mark," Edith said, paying no attention. "My husband! Is he all +right?"</p> + +<p>"Now lady, please. He's being taken care of. You—"</p> + +<p>But she was not listening. Holding to his arm she pulled herself to a +sitting position. She saw their car on its side some yards away, other +cars pulled up around them, a little knot of staring people. Saw them +and dismissed them. Her gaze found her husband, lying on the ground a +few feet away, a coat folded beneath his head.</p> + +<p>Mark was dead. She had been a doctor's wife for twenty years, and +before that a nurse. She knew death when she saw it.</p> + +<p>"Mark." The word was spoken to herself, but the Trooper took it for a +question.</p> + +<p>"Yes, lady," he said. "He's dead. He was still breathing when I got +here, but he died two, three minutes ago."</p> + +<p>She got to her knees. Her only thought was to reach his side. She +scrambled across the few feet of ground to him still on her knees and +crouched beside him, fumbling for his pulse. There was none. There was +nothing. Just a man who had been alive and now was dead.</p> + +<p>Behind her she heard a voice raised. She turned. A large, disheveled +man was standing beside the Trooper, talking loudly.</p> + +<p>"Now listen, officer," he was saying, "I'm telling you again, it +wasn't my fault. The guy pulled sharp left right in front of me. Not a +thing I could do. It's a wonder we weren't all three of us killed. You +can see by the marks on their car it wasn't my fault—"</p> + +<p>Edith Williams closed her mind to the voice. She let Mark's hand lie +in her lap as she fumbled in her bag, which was somehow still clutched +in her fingers. She groped for a handkerchief to stem the tears which +would not be held back. Something was in the way—something smooth and +hard and cold. She drew it out and heard the thin, sweet tinkle of the +crystal bell. She must have dropped it automatically into her bag as +they were preparing to leave the house.</p> + +<p>The hand in her lap moved. She gasped and bent forward as her +husband's eyes opened.</p> + +<p>"Mark!" she whispered. "Mark, darling!"</p> + +<p>"Edith," Mark Williams said with an effort. "Sorry—damned careless of +me. Thinking of the hospital...."</p> + +<p>"You're alive!" she said. "You're <i>alive</i>! Oh, darling, darling, lie +still, the ambulance will be here any second."</p> + +<p>"Ambulance?" he protested. "I'm all right now. Help me—sit up."</p> + +<p>"But Mark——"</p> + +<p>"Just a bump on the head." He struggled to sit up. The State Trooper +came over.</p> + +<p>"Easy, buddy, easy," he said, his voice awed. "We thought you were +gone. Now let's not lose you a second time." His mouth was tight.</p> + +<p>"Hey, I'm sure glad you're all right!" the red-faced man said in a +rush of words. "Whew, fellow, you had me all upset, even though it +wasn't my fault. I mean, how's a guy gonna keep from hitting you +when—when——"</p> + +<p>"Catch him!" Mark Williams cried, but the Trooper was too late. The +other man plunged forward to the ground and lay where he had fallen +without quivering.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The clock in the hall struck two with muted strokes. Cautiously Edith +Williams rose on her elbow and looked down at her husband's face. His +eyes opened and looked back at her.</p> + +<p>"You're awake," she said, unnecessarily.</p> + +<p>"I woke up a few minutes ago," he answered. "I've been lying +here—thinking."</p> + +<p>"I'll get you another phenobarbital. Dr. Amos said for you to take +them and sleep until tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"I know. I'll take one presently. You know—hearing that clock just +now reminded me of something."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Just before I came to this afternoon, after the crash, I had a +strange impression of hearing a bell ring. It sounded so loud in my +ears I opened my eyes to see where it was."</p> + +<p>"A—bell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Just auditory hallucination, of course."</p> + +<p>"But Mark—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"A—a bell did ring. I mean, I had the crystal bell in my bag and it +tinkled a little. Do you suppose—"</p> + +<p>"Of course not." But though he spoke swiftly he did not sound +convincing. "This was a loud bell. Like a great gong."</p> + +<p>"But—I mean, Mark darling—a moment earlier you—had no pulse."</p> + +<p>"No pulse?"</p> + +<p>"And you weren't—breathing. Then the crystal bell tinkled and +you—you...."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I know what you're thinking and believe me—it's nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"But Mark." She spoke carefully. "The driver of the other car. You had +no sooner regained consciousness than he—"</p> + +<p>"He had a fractured skull!" Dr. Williams interrupted sharply. "The +ambulance intern diagnosed it. Skull fractures often fail to show +themselves and then—bingo, you keel over. That's what happened. Now +let's say no more about it."</p> + +<p>"Of course." In the hall, the clock struck the quarter hour. "Shall I +fix the phenobarbital now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—no. Is David home?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated. "No, he hasn't got back yet."</p> + +<p>"Has he phoned? He knows he's supposed to be in by midnight at the +latest."</p> + +<p>"No, he—hasn't phoned. But there's a school dance tonight."</p> + +<p>"That's no excuse for not phoning. He has the old car, hasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You gave him the keys this morning, remember?"</p> + +<p>"All the more reason he should phone." Dr. Williams lay silent a +moment. "Two o'clock is too late for a 17-year-old boy to be out."</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to him. He won't do it again. Now please, Mark, let me get +you the phenobarbital. I'll stay up until David—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The ringing phone, a clamor in the darkness, interrupted her. Mark +Williams reached for it. The extension was beside his bed.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he said. And then, although she could not hear the answering +voice, she felt him stiffen. And she knew. As well as if she could +hear the words she knew, with a mother's instinct for disaster.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Dr. Williams said. "Yes ... I see ... I understand ... I'll +come at once.... Thank you for calling."</p> + +<p>He slid out of bed before she could stop him.</p> + +<p>"An emergency call." He spoke quietly. "I have to go." He began to +throw on his clothes.</p> + +<p>"It's David," she said. "Isn't it?" She sat up. "Don't try to keep me +from knowing. It's about David."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. His voice was very tired. "David is hurt. I have to go +to him. An accident."</p> + +<p>"He's dead." She said it steadily. "David's dead, isn't he, Mark?"</p> + +<p>He came over and sat beside her and put his arms around her.</p> + +<p>"Edith," he said. "Edith—Yes, he's dead. Forty minutes ago. The +car—went over a curve. They have him—at the County morgue. They want +me to—identify him. Identify him. Edith! You see, the car caught +fire!"</p> + +<p>"I'm coming with you," she said. "I'm coming with you!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The taxi waited in a pool of darkness between two street lights. The +long, low building which was the County morgue, a blue lamp over its +door, stood below the street level. A flight of concrete steps went +down to it from the sidewalk. Ten minutes before, Dr. Mark Williams +had gone down those steps. Now he climbed back up them, stiffly, +wearily, like an old man.</p> + +<p>Edith was waiting in the taxi, sitting forward on the edge of the +seat, hands clenched. As he reached the last step she opened the door +and stepped out.</p> + +<p>"Mark," she asked shakily, "was it—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's David." His voice was a monotone. "Our son. I've completed +the formalities. For now the only thing we can do is go home."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to him!" She tried to pass. He caught her wrist. Discretely +the taxi driver pretended to doze.</p> + +<p>"No, Edith! There's no need. You mustn't—see him!"</p> + +<p>"He's my son!" she cried. "Let me go!"</p> + +<p>"No! What have you got under your coat?"</p> + +<p>"It's the bell, the rose-crystal bell!" she cried. "I'm going to ring +it where David can hear!"</p> + +<p>Defiantly she brought forth her hand, clutching the little bell. "It +brought you back, Mark! Now it's going to bring back David!"</p> + +<p>"Edith!" he said in horror. "You mustn't believe that's possible. You +can't. Those were coincidences. Now let me have it."</p> + +<p>"No! I'm going to ring it." Violently she tried to break out of his +grip. "I want David back! I'm going to ring the bell!"</p> + +<p>She got her hand free. The crystal bell rang in the quiet of the early +morning with an eerie thinness, penetrating the silence like a silver +knife.</p> + +<p>"There!" Edith Williams panted. "I've rung it. I know you don't +believe, but I do. It'll bring David back." She raised her voice. +"David!" she called. "David, son! Can you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Edith," Dr. Williams groaned. "You're just tormenting yourself. Come +home. Please come home."</p> + +<p>"Not until David has come back.... David, David, can you hear me?" She +rang the bell again, rang it until Dr. Williams seized it, then she +let him take it.</p> + +<p>"Edith, Edith," he groaned. "If only you had let me come alone...."</p> + +<p>"Mark, listen!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Listen!" she whispered with fierce urgency.</p> + +<p>He was silent. And then fingers of horror drew themselves down his +spine at the clear, youthful voice that came up to them from the +darkness below.</p> + +<p>"Mother?... Dad?... Where are you?"</p> + +<p>"David!" Edith Williams breathed. "It's David! Let me go! I must go +to him."</p> + +<p>"No, Edith!" her husband whispered frantically, as the voice below +called again.</p> + +<p>"Dad?... Mother?... Are you up there? Wait for me."</p> + +<p>"Let me go!" she sobbed. "David, we're here! We're up here, son!"</p> + +<p>"Edith!" Mark Williams gasped. "If you've ever loved me, listen to me. +You mustn't go down there. David—I had to identify him by his class +ring and his wallet. He was burned—terribly burned!"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to him!" She wrenched herself free and sped for the steps, +up which now was coming a tall form, a shadow shrouded in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>Dr. Williams, horror knotting his stomach, leaped to stop her. But he +slipped and fell headlong on the pavement, so that she was able to +pant down the stairs to meet the upcoming figure.</p> + +<p>"Oh, David," she sobbed, "David!"</p> + +<p>"Hey, Mom!" The boy held her steady. "I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry. +But I didn't know what had happened until I got home and you weren't +there and then one of the fellows from the fraternity called me. I +realized they must have made a mistake, and you'd come here, and I +called for a taxi and came out here. My taxi let me off at the +entrance around the block, and I've been looking for you down +there.... Poor Pete!"</p> + +<p>"Pete?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Pete Friedburg. He was driving the old car. I lent him the keys and +my driver's license. I shouldn't have—but he's older and he kept +begging me...."</p> + +<p>"Then—then it's Pete who was killed?" she gasped. "Pete who +was—burned?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Pete. I feel terrible about lending him the car. But he was +supposed to be a good driver. And then them calling you, you and Dad +thinking it was me—"</p> + +<p>"Then Mark was right. Of course he was right." She was laughing and +sobbing now. "It's just a bell, a pretty little bell, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Bell? I don't follow you, Mom."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," Edith Williams gasped. "It's just a bell. It hasn't any +powers over life and death. It doesn't bring back and it doesn't take +away. But let's get back up to your father. He may be thinking that +the bell—that the bell really worked."</p> + +<p>They climbed the rest of the steps. Dr. Mark Williams still lay where +he had fallen headlong on the pavement. The cab driver was bending +over him, but there was nothing to be done. The crystal bell had been +beneath him when he fell, and it had broken. One long, fine splinter +of crystal was embedded in his heart.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Ring Once for Death, by Robert Andrew Arthur + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RING ONCE FOR DEATH *** + +***** This file should be named 31840-h.htm or 31840-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/4/31840/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ring Once for Death + +Author: Robert Andrew Arthur + +Illustrator: Ernie Barth + +Release Date: March 31, 2010 [EBook #31840] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RING ONCE FOR DEATH *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Amazing Stories March 1954. Extensive + research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this + publication was renewed. + + + RING ONCE FOR DEATH + + + BY ROBERT ARTHUR + + + Illustrator: Ernie Barth + + + _The power of the old gods was certainly nothing for Mark + and Edith--a modern, twentieth-century couple--to worry + about. After all--everybody dies!_ + + * * * * * + + + + +[Illustration:] + +Twenty years had left no trace inside Sam Kee's little shop on Mott +Street. There were the same dusty jars of ginseng root and tigers' +whiskers, the same little bronze Buddahs, the same gim-cracks mixed +with fine jade. Edith Williams gave a little murmur of pleasure as the +door shut behind them. + +"Mark," she said, "it hasn't changed! It doesn't look as if a thing +had been sold since we were here on our honeymoon." + +"It certainly doesn't," Dr. Mark Williams agreed, moving down the +narrow aisle behind her. "If someone hadn't told us Sam Kee was dead, +I'd believe we'd stepped back twenty years in time, like they do in +those scientific stories young David reads." + +"We must buy something," his wife said. "For a twentieth anniversary +present for me. Perhaps a bell?" + +From the shadowy depths of the shop a young man emerged, American in +dress and manner despite the Oriental contours of his face and eyes. + +"Good evening," he said. "May I show you something?" + +"We think we want a bell," Dr. Williams chuckled. "But we aren't quite +sure. You're Sam Kee's son?" + +"Sam Kee, junior. My honored father passed to the halls of his +ancestors five years ago. I could just say that he died--" black eyes +twinkled--"but customers like the more flowery mode of speech. They +think it's quaint." + +"I think it's just nice, and not quaint at all," Edith Williams +declared. "We're sorry your father is dead. We'd hoped to see him +again. Twenty years ago when we were a very broke young couple on a +honeymoon he sold us a wonderful rose-crystal necklace for half +price." + +"I'm sure he still made a profit." The black eyes twinkled again. "But +if you'd like a bell, here are small temple bells, camel bells, dinner +bells...." + +But even as he spoke, Edith Williams' hand darted to something at the +back of the shelf. + +"A bell carved out of crystal!" she exclaimed. "And rose-crystal at +that. What could be more perfect? A rose-crystal wedding present and a +rose-crystal anniversary present!" + +The young man half stretched out his hand. + +"I don't think you want that," he said. "It's broken." + +"Broken?" Edith Williams rubbed off the dust and held the lovely +bell-shape of crystal, the size of a pear, to the light. "It looks +perfect to me." + +"I mean it is not complete." Something of the American had vanished +from the young man. "It has no clapper. It will not ring." + +"Why, that's right." Mark Williams took the bell. "The clapper's +missing." + +"We can have another clapper made," his wife declared. "That is, if +the original can't be found?" + +The young Chinese shook his head. + +"The bell and the clapper were deliberately separated by my father +twenty years ago." He hesitated, then added: "My father was afraid of +this bell." + +"Afraid of it?" Mark Williams raised his eyebrows. + +The other hesitated again. + +"It will probably sound like a story for tourists," he said. "But my +father believed it. This bell was supposedly stolen from the temple of +a sect of Buddhists somewhere in the mountains of China's interior. +Just as many Occidentals believe that the Christian Judgement Day will +be heralded by a blast on St. Peter's trumpet, so this small sect is +said to believe that when a bell like this one is rung, a bell carved +from a single piece of rose crystal, and consecrated by ceremonies +lasting ten years, any dead within sound of it will rise and live +again." + +"Heavenly!" Edith Williams cried. "And no pun intended. Mark, think +what a help this bell will be in your practise when we make it ring +again!" To the Chinese she added, smiling: "I'm just teasing him. My +husband is really a very fine surgeon." + +The other bowed his head. + +"I must tell you," he said, "you will not be able to make it ring. +Only the original clapper, carved from the same block of rose crystal, +will ring it. That is why my father separated them." + +Again he hesitated. + +"I have told you only half of what my father told me. He said that, +though it defeats death, Death can not be defeated. Robbed of his +chosen victim, he takes another in his place. Thus when the bell was +used in the temple of its origin--let us say when a high priest or a +chief had died--a slave or servant was placed handy for Death to take +when he had been forced to relinquish his grasp upon the important +one." + +He smiled, shook his head. + +"There," he said. "A preposterous story. Now if you wish it, the bell +is ten dollars. Plus, of course, sales tax." + +"The story alone is worth more," Dr. Williams declared. "I think we'd +better have it sent, hadn't we, Edith? It'll be safer in the mail than +in our suitcase." + +"Sent?" His wife seemed to come out of some deep feminine meditation. +"Oh, of course. And as for its not ringing--I shall make it ring. I +know I shall." + +"If the story is true," Mark Williams murmured, "I hope not...." + + * * * * * + +The package came on a Saturday morning, when Mark Williams was +catching up on the latest medical publications in his untidy, +book-lined study. He heard Edith unwrapping paper in the hall outside. +Then she came in with the rose-crystal bell in her hands. + +"Mark, it's here!" she said. "Now to make it ring." + +She plumped herself down beside his desk. He took the bell and reached +for a silver pencil. + +"Just for the sake of curiosity," he remarked, "and not because I +believe that delightful sales talk we were given, let's see if it will +ring when I tap. It should, you know." + +He tapped the lip of the bell. A muted _thunk_ was the only response. +Then he tried with a coin, a paper knife, and the bottom of a glass. +In each instance the resulting sound was nothing like a bell ringing. + +"If you've finished, Mark," Edith said then, with feminine tolerance, +"let me show you how it's done." + +"Gladly," her husband agreed. She took the bell and turned away for a +moment. Then she shook the bell vigorously. A clear, sweet ringing +shivered through the room--so thin and etherial that small involuntary +shivers crawled up his spine. + +"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "How did you do that?" + +"I just put the clapper back in place with some thread," Edith told +him. + +"The clapper?" He struck his forehead with his palm. "Don't tell +me--the crystal necklace we bought twenty years ago!" + +"Of course." Her tone was composed. "As soon as young Sam Kee told us +about his father's separating the clapper and the bell, I remembered +the central crystal pendant on my necklace. It _is_ shaped like a bell +clapper--we mentioned it once. + +"I guessed right away we had the missing clapper. But I didn't say so. +I wanted to score on you, Mark--" she smiled affectionately at +him--"and because, you know, I had a queer feeling Sam Kee, junior, +wouldn't let us have the bell if he guessed we had the clapper." + +"I don't think he would." Mark Williams picked up his pipe and rubbed +the bowl with his thumb. "Yet he didn't really believe that story he +told us any more than we do." + +"No, but his father did. And if old Sam Kee had told it to +us--remember how wrinkled and wise he seemed?--I do believe we'd have +believed the story." + +"You're probably right." Dr. Williams rang the bell and waited. The +thin, sweet sound seemed to hang in the air a long moment, then was +gone. + +"Nope," he said. "Nothing happened. Although, of course, that may be +because there was no deceased around to respond." + +"I'm not sure I feel like joking about the story." A small frown +gathered on Edith's forehead. "I had planned to use the bell as a +dinner bell and to tell the story to our guests. But now--I'm not +sure." + +Frowning, she stared at the bell until the ringing of the telephone in +the hall brought her out of her abstraction. + +"Sit still, I'll answer." She hurried out. Dr. Williams, turning the +rose crystal bell over in his hand, could hear the sudden tension in +her voice as she answered. He was on his feet when she reentered. + +"An emergency operation at the hospital," she sighed. "Nice young +man--automobile accident. Fracture of the skull, Dr. Amos says. He +wouldn't have disturbed you but you're the only brain man in town, +with Dr. Hendryx away on vacation." + +"I know." He was already in the hall, reaching for his hat. "Man's +work is from sun to sun, but a doctor's work is never done," he +misquoted. + +"I'll drive you." Edith followed him out. "You sit back and relax for +another ten minutes...." + + * * * * * + +Two hours later, as they drove homeward, the traffic was light, which +was fortunate. More than once Mark, in a frowning abstraction, found +himself on the left of the center line and had to pull back into his +own lane. + +He had lost patients before, but never without a feeling of personal +defeat. Edith said he put too much of himself into every operation. +Perhaps he did. And yet--No, there was every reason why the young man +should have lived. Yet, just as Mark Williams had felt that he had +been successful, the patient had died. + +In twenty years of marriage, Edith Williams had learned to read his +thoughts at times. Now she put a hand comfortingly on his arm. + +"These things happen, darling," she said. "You know that. A doctor can +only do so much. Some of the job always remains in the hands of +Nature. And she does play tricks at times." + +"Yes, confound it, I know it," her husband growled. "But I resent +losing that lad. There was no valid reason for it--unless there was +some complication I overlooked." He shook his head, scowling. "I +ordered an autopsy but--Yes, I'm going to do that autopsy myself. I'm +going to turn back and do it now. I have to know!" + +He pulled abruptly to the left to swing into a side road and turn. +Edith Williams never saw the car that hit them. She heard the frantic +blare of a horn and a scream of brakes, and in a frozen instant +realized that there had been someone behind them, about to pass. Then +the impact came, throwing her forward into the windshield and +unconsciousness. + + * * * * * + +Edith Williams opened her eyes. Even before she realized that she was +lying on the ground and that the figure bending over her was a State +Trooper, she remembered the crash. Her head hurt but there was no +confusion in her mind. Automatically, even as she tried to sit up, she +accepted the fact that there had been a crash, help had come, and she +must have been unconscious for several minutes at least. + +"Hey, lady, take it easy!" the Trooper protested. "You had a bad bump. +You got to lie still until the ambulance gets here. It'll be along in +five minutes." + +"Mark," Edith said, paying no attention. "My husband! Is he all +right?" + +"Now lady, please. He's being taken care of. You--" + +But she was not listening. Holding to his arm she pulled herself to a +sitting position. She saw their car on its side some yards away, other +cars pulled up around them, a little knot of staring people. Saw them +and dismissed them. Her gaze found her husband, lying on the ground a +few feet away, a coat folded beneath his head. + +Mark was dead. She had been a doctor's wife for twenty years, and +before that a nurse. She knew death when she saw it. + +"Mark." The word was spoken to herself, but the Trooper took it for a +question. + +"Yes, lady," he said. "He's dead. He was still breathing when I got +here, but he died two, three minutes ago." + +She got to her knees. Her only thought was to reach his side. She +scrambled across the few feet of ground to him still on her knees and +crouched beside him, fumbling for his pulse. There was none. There was +nothing. Just a man who had been alive and now was dead. + +Behind her she heard a voice raised. She turned. A large, disheveled +man was standing beside the Trooper, talking loudly. + +"Now listen, officer," he was saying, "I'm telling you again, it +wasn't my fault. The guy pulled sharp left right in front of me. Not a +thing I could do. It's a wonder we weren't all three of us killed. You +can see by the marks on their car it wasn't my fault--" + +Edith Williams closed her mind to the voice. She let Mark's hand lie +in her lap as she fumbled in her bag, which was somehow still clutched +in her fingers. She groped for a handkerchief to stem the tears which +would not be held back. Something was in the way--something smooth and +hard and cold. She drew it out and heard the thin, sweet tinkle of the +crystal bell. She must have dropped it automatically into her bag as +they were preparing to leave the house. + +The hand in her lap moved. She gasped and bent forward as her +husband's eyes opened. + +"Mark!" she whispered. "Mark, darling!" + +"Edith," Mark Williams said with an effort. "Sorry--damned careless of +me. Thinking of the hospital...." + +"You're alive!" she said. "You're _alive_! Oh, darling, darling, lie +still, the ambulance will be here any second." + +"Ambulance?" he protested. "I'm all right now. Help me--sit up." + +"But Mark----" + +"Just a bump on the head." He struggled to sit up. The State Trooper +came over. + +"Easy, buddy, easy," he said, his voice awed. "We thought you were +gone. Now let's not lose you a second time." His mouth was tight. + +"Hey, I'm sure glad you're all right!" the red-faced man said in a +rush of words. "Whew, fellow, you had me all upset, even though it +wasn't my fault. I mean, how's a guy gonna keep from hitting you +when--when----" + +"Catch him!" Mark Williams cried, but the Trooper was too late. The +other man plunged forward to the ground and lay where he had fallen +without quivering. + + * * * * * + +The clock in the hall struck two with muted strokes. Cautiously Edith +Williams rose on her elbow and looked down at her husband's face. His +eyes opened and looked back at her. + +"You're awake," she said, unnecessarily. + +"I woke up a few minutes ago," he answered. "I've been lying +here--thinking." + +"I'll get you another phenobarbital. Dr. Amos said for you to take +them and sleep until tomorrow." + +"I know. I'll take one presently. You know--hearing that clock just +now reminded me of something." + +"Yes?" + +"Just before I came to this afternoon, after the crash, I had a +strange impression of hearing a bell ring. It sounded so loud in my +ears I opened my eyes to see where it was." + +"A--bell?" + +"Yes. Just auditory hallucination, of course." + +"But Mark--" + +"Yes?" + +"A--a bell did ring. I mean, I had the crystal bell in my bag and it +tinkled a little. Do you suppose--" + +"Of course not." But though he spoke swiftly he did not sound +convincing. "This was a loud bell. Like a great gong." + +"But--I mean, Mark darling--a moment earlier you--had no pulse." + +"No pulse?" + +"And you weren't--breathing. Then the crystal bell tinkled and +you--you...." + +"Nonsense! I know what you're thinking and believe me--it's nonsense!" + +"But Mark." She spoke carefully. "The driver of the other car. You had +no sooner regained consciousness than he--" + +"He had a fractured skull!" Dr. Williams interrupted sharply. "The +ambulance intern diagnosed it. Skull fractures often fail to show +themselves and then--bingo, you keel over. That's what happened. Now +let's say no more about it." + +"Of course." In the hall, the clock struck the quarter hour. "Shall I +fix the phenobarbital now?" + +"Yes--no. Is David home?" + +She hesitated. "No, he hasn't got back yet." + +"Has he phoned? He knows he's supposed to be in by midnight at the +latest." + +"No, he--hasn't phoned. But there's a school dance tonight." + +"That's no excuse for not phoning. He has the old car, hasn't he?" + +"Yes. You gave him the keys this morning, remember?" + +"All the more reason he should phone." Dr. Williams lay silent a +moment. "Two o'clock is too late for a 17-year-old boy to be out." + +"I'll speak to him. He won't do it again. Now please, Mark, let me get +you the phenobarbital. I'll stay up until David--" + + * * * * * + +The ringing phone, a clamor in the darkness, interrupted her. Mark +Williams reached for it. The extension was beside his bed. + +"Hello," he said. And then, although she could not hear the answering +voice, she felt him stiffen. And she knew. As well as if she could +hear the words she knew, with a mother's instinct for disaster. + +"Yes," Dr. Williams said. "Yes ... I see ... I understand ... I'll +come at once.... Thank you for calling." + +He slid out of bed before she could stop him. + +"An emergency call." He spoke quietly. "I have to go." He began to +throw on his clothes. + +"It's David," she said. "Isn't it?" She sat up. "Don't try to keep me +from knowing. It's about David." + +"Yes," he said. His voice was very tired. "David is hurt. I have to go +to him. An accident." + +"He's dead." She said it steadily. "David's dead, isn't he, Mark?" + +He came over and sat beside her and put his arms around her. + +"Edith," he said. "Edith--Yes, he's dead. Forty minutes ago. The +car--went over a curve. They have him--at the County morgue. They want +me to--identify him. Identify him. Edith! You see, the car caught +fire!" + +"I'm coming with you," she said. "I'm coming with you!" + + * * * * * + +The taxi waited in a pool of darkness between two street lights. The +long, low building which was the County morgue, a blue lamp over its +door, stood below the street level. A flight of concrete steps went +down to it from the sidewalk. Ten minutes before, Dr. Mark Williams +had gone down those steps. Now he climbed back up them, stiffly, +wearily, like an old man. + +Edith was waiting in the taxi, sitting forward on the edge of the +seat, hands clenched. As he reached the last step she opened the door +and stepped out. + +"Mark," she asked shakily, "was it--" + +"Yes, it's David." His voice was a monotone. "Our son. I've completed +the formalities. For now the only thing we can do is go home." + +"I'm going to him!" She tried to pass. He caught her wrist. Discretely +the taxi driver pretended to doze. + +"No, Edith! There's no need. You mustn't--see him!" + +"He's my son!" she cried. "Let me go!" + +"No! What have you got under your coat?" + +"It's the bell, the rose-crystal bell!" she cried. "I'm going to ring +it where David can hear!" + +Defiantly she brought forth her hand, clutching the little bell. "It +brought you back, Mark! Now it's going to bring back David!" + +"Edith!" he said in horror. "You mustn't believe that's possible. You +can't. Those were coincidences. Now let me have it." + +"No! I'm going to ring it." Violently she tried to break out of his +grip. "I want David back! I'm going to ring the bell!" + +She got her hand free. The crystal bell rang in the quiet of the early +morning with an eerie thinness, penetrating the silence like a silver +knife. + +"There!" Edith Williams panted. "I've rung it. I know you don't +believe, but I do. It'll bring David back." She raised her voice. +"David!" she called. "David, son! Can you hear me?" + +"Edith," Dr. Williams groaned. "You're just tormenting yourself. Come +home. Please come home." + +"Not until David has come back.... David, David, can you hear me?" She +rang the bell again, rang it until Dr. Williams seized it, then she +let him take it. + +"Edith, Edith," he groaned. "If only you had let me come alone...." + +"Mark, listen!" + +"What?" + +"Listen!" she whispered with fierce urgency. + +He was silent. And then fingers of horror drew themselves down his +spine at the clear, youthful voice that came up to them from the +darkness below. + +"Mother?... Dad?... Where are you?" + +"David!" Edith Williams breathed. "It's David! Let me go! I must go +to him." + +"No, Edith!" her husband whispered frantically, as the voice below +called again. + +"Dad?... Mother?... Are you up there? Wait for me." + +"Let me go!" she sobbed. "David, we're here! We're up here, son!" + +"Edith!" Mark Williams gasped. "If you've ever loved me, listen to me. +You mustn't go down there. David--I had to identify him by his class +ring and his wallet. He was burned--terribly burned!" + +"I'm going to him!" She wrenched herself free and sped for the steps, +up which now was coming a tall form, a shadow shrouded in the +darkness. + +Dr. Williams, horror knotting his stomach, leaped to stop her. But he +slipped and fell headlong on the pavement, so that she was able to +pant down the stairs to meet the upcoming figure. + +"Oh, David," she sobbed, "David!" + +"Hey, Mom!" The boy held her steady. "I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry. +But I didn't know what had happened until I got home and you weren't +there and then one of the fellows from the fraternity called me. I +realized they must have made a mistake, and you'd come here, and I +called for a taxi and came out here. My taxi let me off at the +entrance around the block, and I've been looking for you down +there.... Poor Pete!" + +"Pete?" she asked. + +"Pete Friedburg. He was driving the old car. I lent him the keys and +my driver's license. I shouldn't have--but he's older and he kept +begging me...." + +"Then--then it's Pete who was killed?" she gasped. "Pete who +was--burned?" + +"Yes, Pete. I feel terrible about lending him the car. But he was +supposed to be a good driver. And then them calling you, you and Dad +thinking it was me--" + +"Then Mark was right. Of course he was right." She was laughing and +sobbing now. "It's just a bell, a pretty little bell, that's all." + +"Bell? I don't follow you, Mom." + +"Never mind," Edith Williams gasped. "It's just a bell. It hasn't any +powers over life and death. It doesn't bring back and it doesn't take +away. But let's get back up to your father. He may be thinking that +the bell--that the bell really worked." + +They climbed the rest of the steps. Dr. Mark Williams still lay where +he had fallen headlong on the pavement. The cab driver was bending +over him, but there was nothing to be done. The crystal bell had been +beneath him when he fell, and it had broken. One long, fine splinter +of crystal was embedded in his heart. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Ring Once for Death, by Robert Andrew Arthur + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RING ONCE FOR DEATH *** + +***** This file should be named 31840.txt or 31840.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/4/31840/ + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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