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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58653 ***
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+                         THE REVEALING PATTERN
+
+                            By Alvin Heiner
+
+
+_The Reamer mansion was on trial. It announced its own verdict--guilty!_
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science
+Fiction, May 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+He was a man easily smiled at; a little birdlike individual carrying
+an umbrella and wearing upon his pink face a look remindful of
+happy secrets about to be revealed. He came to my desk during the
+midafternoon lull and said, "I am Professor Jonathan Waits. I have come
+to avail myself of your facilities."
+
+I had never heard it put quite that way before, but from Professor
+Waits, it did not sound stilted. It was the way you would expect him to
+put it. He beamed at the ceiling and said, "What a fine old library, my
+dear. I must bring Nicholas some time."
+
+I gave him the smile reserved financial supporters and unknown
+quantatives and asked, "Could I be of service?"
+
+He didn't get to it immediately. "I understand this library is fairly
+crammed with old records--data on the historical aspects of this area.
+Personal histories and such."
+
+He had a way of radiating his own cheerful mood. "Oh yes," I assured
+him. "It's an exceptional day when we don't sweep a D.A.R. or two out
+of the aisles come closing time."
+
+This, according to his laugh, was quite good. He said, "I'm sure we'll
+get on splendidly, Miss--?"
+
+"--Hopstead."
+
+"Are you a native?"
+
+"A New Englander from way back," I assured him. "Some of my ancestors
+used to drink buttered rum with Captain Rogers."
+
+"Then possibly you'd like to know about my work."
+
+"I certainly would." And, strangely enough, I did.
+
+"I am a researcher into the--well, the unusual."
+
+"Psychic research?" I inquired, wanting him to know we New Englanders
+were not dullards.
+
+"No. Nothing to do with the supernatural at all. My work is to prove
+that all occurrences, however mysterious, are the logical result of
+previous actions of individuals; that superstitions are the result, not
+so much of ignorance, but lack of knowledge."
+
+While I wrestled with that one, he said, "Maybe I could be a trifle
+more explicit."
+
+"That would help."
+
+His bright little eyes got even brighter. "Do you know, by chance, of
+the Reamer mansion over in Carleton?"
+
+I certainly did. It was some thirty miles from Patterson, but as a
+child, I'd visited the place. All children within the radius had
+visited the Reamer mansion at least once. It was an ancient fifteen
+room cockroach trap with such a history of death and violence behind it
+as to cause the kids to walk on tiptoe through its silent rooms. I told
+the professor I knew about it.
+
+"It has been vacant for fifteen years," he observed.
+
+"And will be vacant for twice fifteen more, I imagine."
+
+"That's just the point. Superstition. Otherwise solid and sane people
+wouldn't dream of moving into the Reamer mansion. And it's so silly."
+
+"It is?"
+
+"Of course. And that's why I'm here. I intend to prove, so the most
+stubborn will understand, that the house itself has nothing whatsoever
+to do with its own grim past; that the people who lived in it are to
+blame."
+
+It was a dull day and he was such an apparently sincere little man that
+I decided to keep the conversation alive. "I'm afraid you'll have a
+hard time proving it. Let's see--the first one was old Silas Reamer. He
+committed suicide there. That was sometime around 1925. Then--"
+
+"--His son, Henry Reamer, was found dead under mysterious circumstances
+two years later. Murder was obvious, but nothing has ever been done
+about it."
+
+I frowned in mock severity. "I don't like the way you put that,
+Professor. Do you imply that we New Englanders condone violence?"
+
+"Oh, not at all. There were just--no clues, from what I've learned. The
+next unfortunate, a renter named Miles McCormick, was found dead along
+with his wife and child as a result of lethal gas from a faulty stove."
+
+"That happened the year I was born. We have the old newspapers here,
+telling about it."
+
+"Those reports, along with other material are what I wish to study,"
+Professor Waits said, then went on. "The house stood vacant for five
+years, until a Johnathan Hays bought it."
+
+"But Johnathan Hays never moved in. He died of a heart attack while
+carrying a chair through the front door."
+
+He beamed on me. "You are a remarkably alert young woman; well up in
+local history."
+
+"With no credit to me. You'd be hard put finding a citizen around here
+who doesn't know the history of the Reamer mansion."
+
+"Not 'of the Reamer mansion', my dear. Of the people who just happened
+to reap their ill-fortune there."
+
+"You insist the house had nothing to do with it?"
+
+"Nothing whatever."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Professor--I wonder if you know how big a bite you've taken? If you
+go up in the hills hereabouts you'll find whole families living in
+dirt-floor houses. You'll find children who never heard of a bath or a
+telephone. But you won't find one person who would live in the Reamer
+mansion for a salary paid promptly every Saturday morning."
+
+"Nonetheless," Professor Waits replied, "the so-called jinx of the
+mansion, or any other maligned locality, is a matter of monstrous
+coincidence. The truth lies hidden in the lives of the people involved.
+I've been ferreting out that truth."
+
+"You mean this isn't a beginning, Professor?"
+
+He grasped his umbrella in a manner indicating he meant to spear a
+dragon in case there were any around, and said, "Oh my no! I've been
+tracing the lives of the principals in this drama for some time. It
+involves long, tedious work. I must not only dig into the lives of the
+unfortunates themselves, but also into those of kin; even--in some
+cases--friends."
+
+"What did you find out about the murder?"
+
+He evaded neatly. "I am not seeking a killer as such. Relative to that
+facet of the case, I am more interested in Henry Reamer himself. A very
+wise man once said, 'If you would understand violence, look also into
+the heart of the murdered'. A man carries the seeds of his destiny in
+his own soul."
+
+"And you intend to prove it?"
+
+"I am finding more proof every day. Soon I shall publish a paper which
+will startle the thinking world."
+
+I could see the Professor wasn't one to be backed into any corners.
+"And how can I help in this work?"
+
+"I am tracing at the moment, certain details in the life of Mabel
+Tutworthy, an aunt of Silas Reamer. Unauthenticated legends indicate
+she killed an eight-point buck once, with her bare hands, and dragged
+it home across ten miles of forest."
+
+"I've heard that, and it's probably true. You think it has something to
+do with what happened to Silas?"
+
+"--_And_ his son Henry."
+
+"I think you'll find what you want in that section by the south window.
+It's devoted to local history."
+
+"Thank you, my dear." He moved away, reminding me somehow, of a happy
+retriever going into a lake after a duck. Halfway to the shelves, he
+halted suddenly and turned. "Did you know that seventy percent of the
+accidents happen to twenty percent of the people?"
+
+I didn't, but I refused to admit such backwardness. "I certainly do.
+Amazing, isn't it?"
+
+"That is one of the pillars upon which my work is based."
+
+"And there are others?"
+
+"Seven in all."
+
+He didn't tell me what the other six were. Instead he disappeared into
+local history and left me with the latest best seller I was reading
+under the counter lest some child come in and be stripped of all
+innocence by one glance.
+
+It was two hours before Professor Waits reappeared. He carried a small
+blue notebook in one hand and a stub pencil in the other. He was
+positively beaming. "A gold mine," he said. "A veritable gold mine. Did
+you know that Ezekial Webb, a cousin of William Tutworthy was gored by
+a bull in the year 1862?"
+
+"No--really?"
+
+Then I was truly ashamed of myself. He was such a pleasant, sincere
+little man and he got such fun out of life. But he misinterpreted
+my boorishness for true enthusiasm and said, "It's a fact! Imagine!
+Walking in here and finding one of the links I've hunted for months.
+I'm indebted to you, my dear, for directing me to that book shelf."
+
+I could have told him he was under no obligation; that I got, each
+week, the coolie stipend of twenty eight dollars for doing just that;
+but I didn't want him starting an investigation into peonage system
+practiced in libraries and schools.
+
+Then something in the little man's manner, sobered me.
+"Professor--exactly why are you doing this?"
+
+He blinked. "I have plenty of money. I have the time. It interests me.
+And I feel it a worthy occupation; gathering knowledge through which
+people may know the true causes of misfortune; may throw off the yoke
+of superstition."
+
+"You feel, then, that nothing happens by chance?"
+
+"My dear," he said, solemnly, "in this ordered universe there can be
+no such thing. Action and achievement--cause and result. The revealing
+pattern of each man's actions is in the pasts of himself and his
+antecedents."
+
+"And by proving this you will exonerate the Reamer mansion of all
+guilt?"
+
+He smiled. "You are a most intelligent young lady. Most intelligent! I
+shall see a great deal of you in the weeks to come."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was not a distasteful prospect. I liked the Professor and was glad
+he liked me. After he left I went back and found not a single book out
+of place. I liked him even more.
+
+Two weeks passed before I saw Professor Waits again. He came in out of
+the sunshine, carrying his black umbrella and wearing the same black
+string necktie. I was busy at the time, finding an acceptable book for
+Mrs. Winsolow's little Freddie who was in bed with the pip. When I got
+clear, Professor Waits was deep in his research and I did not disturb
+him.
+
+He came pattering out just before closing time and I was struck by the
+somber--almost sad--expression he wore.
+
+"Did you have trouble finding what you wanted, Professor?"
+
+"Oh no. The records are most voluminous. It's just--well, the _nature_
+of my discoveries."
+
+"Bad?"
+
+"Very bad, Miss Hopstead. Do you know who Henry Reamer's murderer was?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Miles McCormick, the renter who died there so tragically with his
+family."
+
+I didn't quite know how to respond; whether I should faint or scream
+for the police. I settled for a philosophical comment. "A case of
+justice by a higher power."
+
+"You mean McCormick's death?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"On the contrary. There was no connection at all between the two
+events. McCormick and his wife and child died because they violated a
+certain law, but not necessarily a law on the statute books."
+
+"I'm afraid I don't quite follow that."
+
+"Look at it this way, Miss Hopstead. You are walking through a dark
+room. A door is standing open. You come into violent contact with the
+edge of it. What happens?"
+
+"A broken nose? A black eye."
+
+"Precisely. The fact you didn't know the door was there didn't protect
+you from the consequences."
+
+This of course, I was forced to concede.
+
+"Now let's go a step further by taking, as example, a lower mentality
+than our own. A horse, knowing nothing of the laws of electricity,
+would step on a high voltage wire and never know why it was
+electrocuted. In such a case, the animal would violate a law it did not
+know existed."
+
+I was beginning to see what he was driving at. "You mean--"
+
+"We are far above the horse in mentality and understanding but
+there are still many laws we do not understand. That is what my work
+involves."
+
+I insisted upon being heard. "You mean a lot of apparently innocent
+things we do are really electric wires."
+
+He beamed. "Exactly. When we reap misfortune it is because we violate
+some law. Ignorance of that law doesn't change the end-result one iota."
+
+"And you're trying to find out what these--these booby traps are?"
+
+"Oh I know many of them already. My paper will surprise the world.
+I'm working on a more advanced phase of the problem now. I am tracing
+a pattern of interlocking violations to show that the scene of the
+end-results can be only sheerest coincidence. I want to banish once
+and for all the superstition-stigma attached to scenes of repeated
+misfortune and violence."
+
+"The Reamer mansion."
+
+"That's right. And now I must be going, Miss Hopstead." He gave me the
+departing smile and started for the door.
+
+"Professor Waits."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"About Mabel Tutworthy. Did she really drag that buck ten miles."
+
+"No. It was only a fawn. And she killed it less than a mile from her
+cabin."
+
+"And the murder of Henry Reamer. What proof--?"
+
+"Nothing the police would be interested in. It was the end-result of
+a cause they won't understand until my work is published and given
+study."
+
+He opened the door, looked around, smiled. "This is certainly a fine
+old building. I _must_ bring Nicholas with me the next time."
+
+With that, he was gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I found myself looking forward to his next visit. I looked and looked
+and a month passed and a tall, serious-faced youth came into the
+library and waited until I'd finished checking in Mrs. Garvey's returns.
+
+"I understand," he said, "that you have an immense store of local
+history in this library?"
+
+"The section by the south window."
+
+"Thank you." He peered at me through thick lenses. "Thank you Miss--"
+
+"--Hopstead."
+
+"Miss Hopstead. I am Nicholas Worthy. Possibly you knew a friend of
+mine. Professor Waits? I am carrying on his work."
+
+"Carrying on--? Did something happen to--?"
+
+"Oh. Then you didn't hear. It was most tragic. Professor Waits died of
+pneumonia. A great loss--a great loss."
+
+I was deeply shocked. My feeling was that of losing a close friend.
+"No, I hadn't heard. It must have been very sudden."
+
+"It was. He was advanced in years, you know, and after he fell,
+pneumonia set in quickly. They were unable to save him."
+
+"The Professor had an accident?"
+
+"Yes. He fell down the main staircase of the Reamer mansion and broke
+his hip."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Revealing Pattern, by Alvin Heiner
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58653 ***