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diff --git a/old/69607-0.txt b/old/69607-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 348faaa..0000000 --- a/old/69607-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17011 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Weird Tales, Volume 1, Number 3, May, -1923, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Weird Tales, Volume 1, Number 3, May, 1923 - The unique magazine - -Author: Various - -Editor: Edwin Baird - -Release Date: December 22, 2022 [eBook #69607] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Wouter Franssen and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEIRD TALES, VOLUME 1, NUMBER -3, MAY, 1923 *** - -Transcriber’s Note: Stories that were originally split over pages, with -adverts and/or other stories in between, have been recombined. - - - - -[Illustration] - -FREE FINGER PRINT OUTFIT - - -To those who enroll right now I will give this complete Finger Print -Outfit absolutely free. It is a regular expert’s working outfit—the same -kind that I use myself—the same kind that you will use when you are -ready to accept a position as a Finger Print Expert. This offer is for a -limited time only, so you must hurry if you want to take advantage of it. -Send in the coupon today for full information. - -BE A FINGER PRINT EXPERT - -Learn at Home—30 Minutes a Day - -Only thirty minutes a day for a short time. That is all that is -necessary. I am a Finger Print Expert and I know just what is required. I -give you just the kind of training that prepares you to be a Finger Print -Expert—that assures you of a position just as soon as you have finished -my course. The Finger Print Expert is always in demand. You need not give -up your present occupation while studying this fascinating Profession. -Get into this big paying profession right now. - -More Men Needed Right Now - -The professional Finger Print Expert is always in demand. I have so many -positions waiting to be filled right now that I am guaranteeing to place -every man as soon as he finishes my course and I am backing up this -remarkable offer with a $1000 bank guarantee deposited with the Phillips -State Bank of Chicago. Let me make you a Finger Print Expert and start -you in a big paying position. - -Send Coupon Today - -The big opportunity you have been waiting for is here. Remember you have -a position waiting for you as soon as you have finished this course. Also -to every student that I accept now I will give absolutely free a complete -Finger Print Outfit as illustrated above. - -Besides, a valuable course for Secret Service Intelligence is also given -free to all my students. This information itself is worth many times the -cost of the complete course. Send coupon today and learn all about it. - - U. S. School of Finger Prints - 7003 No. Clark St. Room 13-95 Chicago, Ill. - -I Guarantee You a Position as soon as you have finished this course. -Write today for full information. - - U. S. School of Finger Prints, Room 13-95 - 7003 No. Clark St., Chicago, Ill. - - Without any obligations whatsoever please send me full - information about your “Guaranteed Position Offer—Free Finger - Print Outfit.” Also tell me how I can become a Finger Print - Expert. - - Name ____________________ Age _____ - - Address ____________________________ - - City _________________ State ______ - - - - -WEIRD TALES - -_The Unique Magazine_ - - -EDWIN BAIRD, _Editor_ - -Published monthly by THE RURAL PUBLISHING CORPORATION, 325 N. Capitol -Ave., Indianapolis, Ind. Application made for entry as second-class -matter at the postoffice at Indianapolis, Indiana. Single copies, 25 -cents. Subscription, $3.00 a year in the United States; $3.50 in Canada. -The publishers are not responsible for manuscripts lost in transit. -Address all manuscripts and other editorial matters to WEIRD TALES, 854 -N. Clark St., Chicago, Ill. The contents of this magazine are fully -protected by copyright and publishers are cautioned against using the -same, either wholly or in part. - -Copyright, 1923, by The Rural Publishing Corporation. - - VOLUME 1 25 Cents NUMBER 3 - - - - -_Contents for May, 1923_ - - _Nineteen Thrilling Short Stories_ - _Two Complete Novelettes_ - _Two Two-Part Stories_ - _Interesting, Odd and Weird Happenings_ - - - THE MOON TERROR A. G. BIRCH 5 - _A Remarkable Novel_ - - THE SECRET FEAR BY KENNETH DUANE WHIPPLE 22 - _A “Creepy” Detective Story_ - - JUNGLE BEASTS WILLIAM P. BARRON 23 - _A Complete Novelette_ - - THE GOLDEN CAVERNS JULIAN KILMAN 30 - _A Condensed Novel_ - - VIALS OF INSECTS PAUL ELLSWORTH TRIEM 39 - _Short Story_ - - AN EYE FOR AN EYE G. W. CRANE 49 - _Short Story_ - - THE FLOOR ABOVE M. HUMPHREYS 52 - _A Short Story with a Horrifying Climax_ - - PENELOPE VINCENT STARRETT 57 - _A Fantastic Tale_ - - THE PURPLE HEART HERMAN SISK 61 - _The Story of a Haunted Cabin_ - - FELINE BRUCE GRANT 62 - _A Whimsical Storiette_ - - TWO HOURS OF DEATH E. THAYLES EMMONS 64 - _A Ghost Story_ - - MIDNIGHT BLACK HAMILTON CRAIGIE 67 - _Short Story_ - - THE HAUNTED AND THE HAUNTERS BULWER LYTTON 70 - _An Old Masterpiece_ - - THE WHISPERING THING LAURIE McCLINTOCK AND CULPEPER CHUNN 78 - _The Conclusion of a Frightful Mystery Novel_ - - THE DEATH CELL F. K. MOSS 85 - _A Weird Short Story_ - - THE DEVIL PLANT LYLE WILSON HOLDEN 89 - _A Story of Ghastly Retribution_ - - THE THUNDER VOICE F. WALTER WILSON 92 - _The Story of a Hairy Monster_ - - CASE NO. 27 MOLLIE FRANK ELLIS 96 - _A Few Minutes in a Madhouse_ - - THE FINALE WILLIAM MERRIT 99 - _A Short Story_ - - THE CLOSED CABINET 101 - _A Story of the Eighteenth Century_ - - THE EYRIE BY THE EDITOR 113 - -For advertising space in this magazine apply to Young & Ward, 168 N. -Michigan Blvd., Chicago, Ill. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: Copy this Sketch] - -FREE $80 Drafting Course - -There is such an urgent demand for practical, trained Draftsman that I -am making this special offer in order to enable deserving, ambitious and -bright men to get into this line of work. I will teach you to become a -Draftsman and Designer, until you are drawing a salary up to $250.00 -a month. You need not pay me for my personal instruction or for the -complete set of instruments. - -Draftsman’s Pocket Rule Free—To Everyone Sending Sketch - -[Illustration: _Send above Sketch and Get This_ Ivorine Pocket Rule -_FREE_] - -To every person of 16 years or older sending a sketch I am going to mail -free and prepaid the Draftsman’s Ivorine Pocket Rule shown here. This -will come entirely with my compliments. With it I will send a 6 × 9 -book on “Successful Draftsmanship”. If you are interested in becoming a -draftsman, if you think you have or may attain drafting ability, sit down -and copy this drawing, mailing it to me today, writing your name, and -your address and your age plainly on the sheet of paper containing the -drawing. There are no conditions requiring you to buy anything. You are -under no obligations in sending in your sketch. What I want to know is -how much you are interested in drawing and your sketch will tell me that. - -_Positions Paying Up to_ $250 and $300 per Month - -I am Chief Draftsman of the Engineers’ Equipment Co. and I know that -there are thousands of ambitious men who would like to better themselves, -make more money and secure faster advancement. Positions paying up to -$250 and $300 per month, which ought to be filled by skilled draftsmen, -are vacant. I want to find the men who with practical training and -personal assistance will be qualified to fill these positions. No man -can hope to share in the great coming prosperity in manufacturing and -building unless he is properly trained and is able to do first class -practical work. - -I know that this is the time to get ready. That is why I am making the -above offer. I can now take and train a limited number of students -personally and I will give to those students a guarantee to give them by -mail practical drawing room training until they are placed in a permanent -position with a salary up to $250 and $300 per month. You should act -promptly on this offer because it is my belief that even though you start -now the great boom will be well on by the time you are ready to accept a -position as a skilled draftsman. So write to me at once. Enclose sketch -or not, as you choose, but find out about the opportunities ahead of you. -Let me send you the book “Successful Draftsmanship” telling how you may -take advantage of these opportunities by learning drafting at home. - -[Illustration: FREE - -this $25 Draftsman’s Working Outfit] - -These are regular working instruments—the kind I use myself. I give them -free to you if you enroll at once. Don’t delay. Send for full information -today. - -Mail Your Drawing at Once—_and Get Ivorine Pocket Rule Absolutely_ Free! - -Ambitious men interested in drafting hurry! Don’t wait! This is your -opportunity to get into this great profession. Accept the offer which -I am making now. Send in your sketch or request for free book and free -Ivorine Pocket Rule. - - Chief Draftsman, Engineers’ Equipment Co., - 1951 Lawrence Av. - Div. 13-95 Chicago - - * * * * * - -The Cleanest, Yet Most Outspoken, Book Published - -There is not a man or woman married or unmarried, who does not need to -know every word contained in “Sex Conduct in Marriage.” The very numerous -tragedies which occur every day, show the necessity for plain-spokenness -and honest discussion of the most vital part of married life. - -It is impossible to conceive of the value of the book; it must -undoubtedly be read to be appreciated, and it is obviously impossible -to give here a complete summary of its contents. The knowledge is not -obtainable elsewhere; there is a conspiracy of silence on the essential -matters concerning sex conduct, and the object of the author has been -to break the barriers of convention in this respect, recognizing as he -does that no marriage can be a truly happy one unless both partners are -free to express the deepest feelings they have for each other without -degrading themselves or bringing into the world undesired children. - -[Illustration] - -The author is an idealist who recognizes the sacredness of the sex -function and the right of children to be loved and desired before they -are born. Very, very few of us can say truly that we were the outcome of -the conscious desire of our parents to beget us. They, however, were not -to blame because they had not the knowledge which would have enabled them -to control conception. - -Let us, then, see that our own marriage conduct brings us happiness and -enjoyment in itself and for our children. - -A Book for Idealists by an Idealist - -The greatest necessity to insure happiness in the married condition is to -know its obligations and privileges, and to have a sound understanding -of sex conduct. This great book gives this information and is absolutely -reliable throughout. - -Dr. P. L. Clark, B. S., M. D., writing of this book says: “As regards -sound principles and frank discussion I know no better book on this -subject than Bernard Bernard’s ‘Sex Conduct in Marriage.’ I strongly -advise all members of the Health School in need of reliable information -to read this book.” - -“I feel grateful but cheated,” writes one man. “Grateful for the new -understanding and joy in living that has come to us, cheated that we have -lived five years without it.” - -SEX CONDUCT IN MARRIAGE - -By BERNARD BERNARD Editor-in-Chief of “Health and Life” - -Answers simply and directly, those intimate questions which Mr. Bernard -has been called upon to answer innumerable times before, both personally -and by correspondence. It is a simple, straightforward explanation, -unclouded by ancient fetish or superstition. - -A few of the many headings are:— - - When the Sex Function Should Be Used. - Sex Tragedies in Childhood. - The Consummation of Marriage. - The Art of a Beautiful Conception. - Sex Communion. - The Scientific Control of Conception. - Sex Fear Destroyed. - The Frequency of the Sex Act. - The Initiation to Matrimony. - Anatomy and Physiology of the Sex Organs. - The Spontaneous Expression of Love. - Why Women Have Been Subjected. - Men Who Marry in Ignorance. - Hereditary Passion. - Marriage a Joy to the End. - -Send your check or money order today for only $1.75 and this remarkable -book will be sent postpaid immediately in a plain wrapper. - - Health and Life Publications - Room 46-333 South Dearborn Street - CHICAGO - - HEALTH AND LIFE PUBLICATIONS - Room 46-333 S. Dearborn St., - Chicago, Illinois. - - Please send me, in plain wrapper, postpaid, your book. “Sex - Conduct in Marriage.” Enclosed $1.75. - - Name _________________________ - - Address ______________________ - - City _________________________ - - State ________________________ - - - - - _The Unique - Magazine_ - - WEIRD TALES - - _Edited by - Edwin Baird_ - - VOLUME ONE - NUMBER THREE - - 25c a Copy - - MAY, 1923 - - Subscription $3.00 A YEAR - $3.50 IN CANADA - - - - -_The Astounding Events in This Remarkable Novel Leave the Reader -Breathless with Amazement_ - -The Moon Terror - -_By_ A. G. BIRCH - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE DRUMS OF DOOM. - -The first warning of the stupendous cataclysm that befell the earth in -the third decade of the twentieth century was recorded simultaneously in -several parts of America during a night in early June. But, so little was -its awful significance suspected at the time, it passed almost without -comment. - -[Illustration] - -I am certain that I entertained no forebodings; neither did the man -who was destined to play the leading role in the mighty drama that -followed—Dr. Ferdinand Gresham, the eminent American astronomer. For we -were on a hunting and fishing trip in Labrador at the time, and were not -even aware of the strange occurrence. - -Anyway, the nature of this first herald of disaster was not such as to -cause alarm. - -At 12 minutes past 3 o’clock a. m., when there began a lull in the -night’s aerial telegraph business, several of the larger wireless -stations of the Western hemisphere simultaneously began picking up -strange signals out of the ether. They were faint and ghostly, as if -coming from a vast distance—equally far removed from New York and San -Francisco, Juneau and Panama. - -Exactly two minutes apart the calls were repeated, with clock-like -regularity. But the code used—if it _were_ a code—was undecipherable. - -Until near dawn the signals continued—indistinct, unintelligible, -insistent. - -Every station capable of transmitting messages over such great distances -emphatically denied sending them. And no amateur apparatus was powerful -enough to be the cause. As far as anyone could learn, the signals -originated nowhere upon the earth. It was as if some phantom were -whispering through the ether in the language of another planet. - -Two nights later the calls were heard again, starting at almost the same -instant when they had been distinguished on the first occasion. But this -time they were precisely three minutes apart. And without the variation -of a second they continued for more than an hour. - -The next night they reappeared. And the next and the next. Now they began -earlier than before—in fact, no one knew when they had started, for they -were sounding when the night’s business died down sufficiently for them -to be heard. But each night, it was noticed, the interval between the -signals was exactly one minute longer than the night before. - -Occasionally the weird whispers ceased for a night or two, but always -they resumed with the same insistence, although with a newly-timed -interval. - -This continued until early in July, when the pause between the calls had -attained more than thirty minutes’ duration. - -Then the length of the lulls began to decrease erratically. One night the -mysterious summons would be heard every nineteen and a quarter minutes; -the next night, every ten and a half minutes; at other times, twelve and -three-quarters minutes, or fourteen and a fifth, or fifteen and a third. - -Still the signals could not be deciphered, and their message—if they -contained one—remained a mystery. - -Newspapers and scientific journals at last began to speculate upon the -matter, advancing all manner of theories to account for the disturbances. - -The only one of these conjectures attracting widespread attention, -however, was that presented by Professor Howard Whiteman, the famous -director of the United States naval observatory at Washington, D. C. - -Professor Whiteman voiced the opinion that the planet Mars was trying -to establish communication with the earth—the mysterious calls being -wireless signals sent across space by the inhabitants of our neighboring -world. - -Our globe, moving through space much faster than Mars, and in a smaller -orbit, overtakes its neighboring planet once in a little over two years. -For some months Mars had been approaching the earth. At the beginning of -June it had been approximately 40,000,000 miles away, and at that time, -Professor Whiteman pointed out, the strange wireless calls had commenced. -As the two worlds drew closer together the signals increased slightly in -power. - -The scientist urged that while Mars remained close to us the government -should appropriate funds to enlarge one of the principal wireless -stations in an effort to answer the overtures of our neighbors in space. - -But when, after two more days, the ethereal signals ceased abruptly -and week passed without their recurrence, Professor Whiteman’s theory -began to be derided, and the whole thing was dismissed as some temporary -phenomenon of the atmosphere. - -It was something of a shock, therefore, when, on the eighth night after -the cessation of the disturbances, the calls were suddenly resumed—much -louder than before, as if the power creating their electrical impulses -had been increased. Now wireless stations all over the world plainly -heard the staccato, mystifying challenge coming out of the ether. - -This time, too, the interval between the signals was of a new -length—eleven minutes and six seconds. - -The next day the matter took on still further importance. - -Scientists all along the Pacific Coast of the United States reported -that in the night their seismographs had recorded a series of light -earthquakes; and it was noted that these tremors had occurred precisely -eleven minutes and six seconds apart—simultaneously with the sounding of -the mysterious wireless calls! - -After that the aerial signals did not stop during any part of the -twenty-four hours. And the earth shocks continued, gradually increasing -in severity. They kept perfect time with the signals through the ether—a -shock for every whisper, a rest for every pause. In the course of a -couple of weeks the quakes attained such force that in many places they -could be distinctly felt by anyone standing still upon solid ground. - -Science now became fully aware of the existence of some new and -sinister—or at least unfathomed—force in the world, and began to give the -matter profound study. - -However, both Dr. Ferdinand Gresham and myself remained in complete -ignorance of these events; for, as I have said, we were in the interior -of Labrador. We both possessed a keen love of the wilderness, where, in -vigorous sports, we renewed our energy for the work to be done in the -cities—the doctor’s as director of the great astronomical observatory at -the National University; mine in the prosaic channels of business. - -To the public, which knew him only through his books and lectures, Dr. -Gresham perhaps appeared the last person in the world anyone would -seek for a companion: a man silent, preoccupied, austere, unsociable. -But underneath this aloofness and taciturnity was a character of rare -strength, good nature and loveableness. And, once beyond the barriers -of civilization, his austerity vanished, and he became a prince of good -fellows, actually reveling in hardships and danger. - -The complete change in him on such occasions brought to mind a strange -phase of his life about which not even I, his most intimate associate, -knew anything—a period in which he had undertaken a mysterious pilgrimage -alone into the dark interior of China. - -I only knew that fifteen years before he had gone in quest of certain -amazing astronomical discoveries rumored to have been made by Buddhist -savants dwelling in monasteries far back in the Himalayas or the -Tian-Shan, or some of those inaccessible mountain fastnesses of Central -Asia. After more than four years he had dragged back, ill and suffering, -bearing hideous disfigurations upon his body, the look in his eyes of a -man who had seen hell, and maintaining inviolate silence regarding his -experiences. - -On regaining his health after the Chinese adventure, he had immersed -himself in silence and work, and year by year since then I had seen -him steadily rise in prominence in his profession. Indeed, his name -had come to stand for vastly more in the scientific world than merely -the advancement of astronomical knowledge. He was a deep student along -many lines of scientific endeavor—electricity, chemistry, mathematics, -physics, geology, even biology. To the development of wireless telegraphy -and the wireless transmission of electrical energy he had devoted -particular effort. - -The doctor and I had left New York a few days before the wireless -disturbances began. Returning by a small private vessel, which was not -equipped with wireless, we continued in ignorance of the world’s danger. - -It was during our homeward sea voyage that the earthquakes began to grow -serious. Many buildings were damaged. In the western portions of the -United States and Canada a number of persons were killed by the collapse -of houses. - -Gradually the affected area expanded. New York and Nagasaki, Buenos -Aires and Berlin, Vienna and Valparaiso began to take their places on -the casualty list. Even modern skyscrapers suffered broken windows and -falling plaster; sometimes they shook so violently that their occupants -fled to the streets in a panic. Water and gas mains began to break. - -Before long, in New York, one of the railroad tunnels under the Hudson -River cracked and flooded, causing no loss of life, but spreading such -alarm that all the tubes under and out of Manhattan were abandoned. This -brought about a fearful congestion of traffic in the metropolis. - -Finally, toward the beginning of August, the earthquakes became so -serious that the newspapers were filled every day with accounts of the -loss of scores—sometimes hundreds—of lives all over the world. - -Then came a happening fraught with a monstrous new terror, which was -revealed to the public one morning just as day dawned in New York. - -During the preceding night, a great Atlantic liner, steaming westward -approximately along the fiftieth parallel of latitude, had _run aground_ -about 700 miles east of Cape Race, Newfoundland—at a point where all -nautical charts showed the ocean to be _nearly two miles deep_! - -Within an hour there had come reports of a similar nature from other -ships two or three hundred miles distant from the first one. There was -no telling how vast in extent might be the upheaved portion of the sea -bottom. - -Hardly had the wireless stations finished taking these startling stories -from midocean before there began to arrive equally strange reports from -other quarters of the globe. - -Someone discovered that the sea level had risen almost six feet at New -York. The Sahara Desert had sunk to an unknown depth, and the sea was -rushing in, ripping vast channels through the heart of Morocco, Tripoli -and Egypt, obliterating cities and completely changing the whole face of -the earth. - -Within a few hours the high water in New York harbor receded about a -foot. Mount Chimborazo, the majestic peak of more than 20,000 feet -altitude in the Ecuadorean Andes, began to fall down and spread out over -the surrounding country. Then the mountains bordering the Panama Canal -started to collapse for many miles, completely blocking that famous -waterway. - -In Europe the Danube River ceased to flow in its accustomed direction -and began, near its junction with the Save, to pour its waters back past -Budapest and Vienna, turning the plains of western Austria into a series -of spreading lakes. - -The world awoke that summer morning to face a more desperate situation -than ever had confronted mankind during all the centuries of recorded -history. - -And still no plausible explanation of the trouble—except the Martian -theory of Professor Howard Whiteman—was forthcoming. - -Men were dazed, astounded. A feeling of dread and terror began to settle -upon the public. - -At this juncture, realizing the need of some sort of action, the -President of the United States urged all the other civilized nations -to send representatives to an international scientific congress in -Washington, which should endeavor to determine the origin of the -terrestrial disturbances and, if possible, suggest relief. - -As speedily as airplanes could bring them, an imposing assemblage of the -world’s leading scientists gathered in Washington. - -Because of his international reputation and the fact that the congress -held its sessions at the United States naval observatory of which he was -chief, Professor Whiteman was chosen president of the body. - -For a week the scientists debated—while the world waited in intense and -growing anxiety. But the learned men accomplished nothing. They could -not even agree. The battle seemed one of man against nature, and man was -helpless. - -In a gloomy state of mind they began to consider adjournment. At 10 -o’clock on the night of the nineteenth of August the question of -terminating the sessions was scheduled for a final vote. - -That night, as the hands of the clock on the wall above the presiding -officer’s head drew near the fateful hour, the tension throughout the -assemblage became intensely dramatic. Everyone present knew in his heart -that further deliberation was useless, but the fate of the human race -seemed to hang upon their decision. - -Even after the sound of the clock’s striking had died out upon the -stillness of the room, Professor Whiteman remained seated; he seemed -haggard and downcast. At last, however, he drew himself up and opened his -lips to speak. - -At that moment a secretary tiptoed swiftly in and whispered briefly to -the presiding officer. Professor Whiteman gave a start and answered -something that sent the secretary hurrying out. - -Betraying strange emotion, the scientist now addressed the assemblage. -His words came haltingly, as if he feared they would be greeted with -ridicule. - -“Gentlemen,” he said, “a strange thing has happened. A few minutes -ago—the wireless signals that have always accompanied the earthquakes -ceased abruptly. In their place came—a mysterious summons out of -the ether—whence no one knows—demanding a conversation with the -presiding officer of this body. The sender of the message declares his -communication has to do with the problem we have been trying to solve. -Of course—this is probably some hoax—but our operator is greatly excited -over the circumstances surrounding the call, and urges that we come to -the wireless room at once!” - -With one accord, everyone rose and moved forward. - -Leading the way to another part of the observatory grounds, Professor -Whiteman ushered the company into the operating room of the wireless -plant—one of the most powerful in the world. - -A little knot of observatory officials already was clustered about the -operator, their manner denoting that something unusual had been going on. - -At a word from Professor Whiteman, the operator threw over his rheostat -and the hum of the rotary spark filled the room. Then his fingers played -on the key while he sent out a few signals. - -“I’m letting them—_him_—know you’re ready, sir,” the operator explained -to the astronomer, in a tone filled with awe. - -A few moments slipped by. Everyone waited breathlessly, all eyes glued -upon the apparatus, as if to read the momentous message that was expected -to come from—no one knew where. - -Suddenly there was an involuntary movement of the muscles of the -operator’s face, as if he were straining to hear something very faint and -far away; then he began writing slowly upon a pad that lay on his desk. -At his elbow the scientists unceremoniously crowded each other in their -eagerness to read: - - “To the Presiding Officer of the International Scientific - Congress, Washington,” he wrote. “I am the dictator of human - destiny. Through control of the earth’s internal forces I am - master of every existing thing. I can blot out all life—destroy - the globe itself. It is my intention to abolish all present - governments and make myself emperor of the earth. As proof of - my power to do this, I”—there was a pause of several seconds, - which seemed like hours in the awful stillness—“I shall, at - midnight tomorrow, Thursday (Washington time), cause the - earthquakes to cease until further notice. - - “KWO.” - - -_CHAPTER II._ - -THE DICTATOR OF DESTINY. - -By the next morning the entire civilized world knew of the strange -and threatening communication from the self-styled “dictator of human -destiny.” - -The members of the scientific congress had sought to keep the matter -secret, but all the larger wireless stations of North America had picked -up the message, and thence it found its way into the newspapers. - -Ordinarily, such a communication would have attracted nothing more -than laughter, as a harmless prank; but the increasing menace of the -earthquakes had wrought a state of nervous tension that was ready to -clothe the whole affair with sinister significance. - -It was an alarmed and hysterical public that gathered in the streets -of all the great cities soon after daylight. One question was on every -tongue: - -Who was this mysterious “KWO,” and was his message actually a momentous -declaration to the human race, or merely a hoax perpetrated by some -person with an overly vivid imagination? - -Even the signature to the communication was such as to arouse curiosity. -Was it a name? Or a combination of initials? Or a title, like “Rex,” -signifying king? Or a nom de plume? Or the name of a place? - -No one could say. - -Anyone capable of discovering the secrets of the earth’s internal forces, -and harnessing those forces for his own ends, unquestionably was the most -wonderful scientist the world had ever seen; but, though every important -nation of the globe was represented at the scientific congress in -Washington, not one of those representatives had ever heard of successful -experiments along this line, or knew any prominent scientist named KWO, -or one possessing initials that would make up that word. The name sounded -Oriental, but certainly no country of the Orient had produced a scientist -of sufficient genius to accomplish this miracle. - -It was a problem concerning which the best-informed persons knew no more -than the most untutored child, but one which was of paramount importance -to the group of savants assembled in Washington. Until more light could -be shed on this subject they were powerless to form any conclusions. -Accordingly, their first effort was to get into further communication -with their unknown correspondent. - -All through the night the operator at the naval observatory’s wireless -plant in Washington sat at his key, calling over and over again the three -letters that constituted mankind’s only knowledge of its adversary: - - “KWO—KWO—KWO!” - -But there was no answer. Absolute silence enveloped the menacing power. -“KWO” had spoken. He would not speak again. And after twelve hours even -the most persistent members of the scientific body—who had remained -constantly in the wireless room throughout the night—reluctantly desisted -from further attempts at communication. - -Even this failure found its way into the newspapers and helped to divide -public opinion. Many persons and influential papers insisted that “KWO’S” -threat was nothing more than a hoax. Others, however, were inclined to -accept the message as the serious declaration of a human being with -practically supernatural powers. In advancing this opinion they were -supported by the undeniable fact that from the time the mysterious -“KWO” began his efforts to communicate with the head of the scientific -congress, until his message had been completed, the strange wireless -signals accompanying the earth tremors had ceased entirely—a thing that -had not happened before. When he was through speaking, the signals -had resumed their clocklike recurrence. It was as if some power had -deliberately cleared the ether for the transmission of this proclamation -to mankind. - -A feeling of dread—of monstrous uncertainty—hung over everyone and -increased as the day wore on. Ordinary affairs were neglected, while the -crowds in public places steadily increased. - -By nightfall of Thursday even the loudest scoffers at the genuineness -of the “dictator’s” threat began to display symptoms of the general -uneasiness. - -Would the earthquakes begin to subside at midnight? - -Upon the answer to this question hung the fate of the world. - -It was an exceedingly hot night in most parts of the United States. -Scarcely anywhere was a breath of air stirring; the whole country was -blanketed by a suffocating wave of humidity. Low clouds that presaged -rain—but never brought it—added to the general feeling of apprehension. -It was as if all nature had conspired to furnish a dramatic setting for -the events about to be enacted. - -As midnight drew near the excitement became intense. In Europe, as -well as in America, vast throngs filled the streets in front of the -newspaper offices, watching the bulletin boards. The Consolidated News -Syndicate had arranged special radio service from various scientific -institutions—notably the Washington naval observatory, where savants were -watching the delicate instruments for recording earth shocks—and any -variation or subsidence in the tremors would be flashed to newspapers -everywhere. - -When the hands of the clocks reached a point equivalent to two minutes of -midnight, Washington time, a vast hush fell upon the assembled thousands. -The very atmosphere became aquiver with suspense. - -But if the scene in the streets was exciting, that within the instrument -room of the United States naval observatory, where the members of the -international scientific congress waited was dramatic beyond description. - -About the room sat the scientists and a couple of representatives from -the Consolidated News. Professor Whiteman himself was stationed at the -seismographs, while at his elbow sat Professor James Frisby, in direct -telephone communication with the wireless operator in another part of the -grounds. - -The light was shaded and dim. The heat was stifling. Not a word was -spoken. Scarcely a muscle moved. All were painfully alert. - -Every eleven minutes and six seconds the building was shaken by a -subterranean shock. The windows rattled. The floor creaked. Even the -chairs seemed to lift and heave. It had been that way for weeks. But -would this night see the end? - -With maddening slowness, the hands of the big clock on the wall—its face -illuminated by a tiny electric lamp—drew toward the hour of twelve. - -Suddenly there came one of the earthquakes, that, while no different from -its predecessors, heightened the tension like the crack of a whip. - -All eyes flew to the timepiece. It registered thirty-four seconds past -11:49 o’clock. - -Therefore, the next tremor would occur at precisely forty seconds after -midnight. - -If the unknown “KWO” were an actual being, and kept his word—at that time -the shocks would begin to subside! - -The suspense became terrible. The faces of the scientists were drawn and -pale. Beads of perspiration stood out on every brow. The minutes passed. - -The electric correcting-device on the clock gave a sharp _click_, -denoting midnight. Forty seconds more! The suffocating atmosphere seemed -almost to turn cold under the pressure of anxiety. - -Then, almost before anyone could realize it, the earthquake had come and -gone! And not one particle of diminution in its violence had been felt! - -A sigh of relief involuntarily passed around the room. Few moved or -spoke, but there was a lessening of the strain on many faces. It was too -soon yet, of course, to be sure, but—in most hearts there began to dawn a -faint ray of hope that, after all, this “dictator of human destiny” might -be a myth. - -But suddenly Professor Frisby raised his hand to command quiet, and bent -more intently over his telephone. - -A short silence followed. Then he turned to the gentlemen and announced -in a voice that seemed curiously dry: - -“The operator reports that no wireless signal accompanied this last -earthquake.” - -Again the nerve tension in the assembly leaped like an electric spark. -Several more minutes passed in silence. - -Then came another quake. - -Had there been a decrease in its force? Opinion was divided. - -All eyes sped to Professor Whiteman, but he remained absorbed at his -seismographs. - -In this silence and keen suspense eleven minutes and six seconds again -dragged by. Another earthquake came and went. Once more Professor Frisby -announced that there had been no wireless signal attending the tremor. -The savants began to settle themselves for a further wait, when— - -Professor Whiteman left his instrument and came slowly forward. In the -dim light his face looked lined and gray. Before the rows of seats he -stopped and faltered a moment. Then he said: - -“_Gentlemen, the earthquakes are beginning to subside!_” - -For a moment the scientists sat as if stunned. Everyone was too appalled -to speak or move. Then the tension was broken by the rush of the -Consolidated News men from the room to get their momentous tidings out to -the world. - -After that the ground shocks died out with increasing rapidity. In an -hour they had ceased entirely, and the tortured planet once more was -still. - -But the tumult among the people had only started! - -With a sudden shock the globe’s inhabitants realized that they were in -the grip of an unknown being endowed with supernatural power. Whether -he were man or demi-god, sane or mad, well disposed or malignant—no one -could guess. Where was his dwelling place, whence the source of his -power, what would be the first manifestation of his authority, or how far -would he seek to enforce his control? Only time could answer. - -As this situation dawned upon men, their fears burst all bounds. Frantic -excitement took possession of the throngs. - -Only at the naval observatory in Washington was there calmness and -restraint. The gathering of scientists spent the night in earnest -deliberation of the course to be followed. - -Finally it was decided that nothing should be done for the present; they -would merely await events. When it had suited the mysterious “KWO” to -announce himself to the world he had done so. Thereafter, communication -with him had been impossible. Doubtless when he was ready to speak again -he would break his silence—not before. It was reasonable to suppose that, -now he had proved his power, he would not be long in stating his wishes -or commands. - -Events soon showed this surmise was correct. - -Promptly at noon the next day—there having in the meantime been no -recurrence of the earthquakes or electrical disturbances of the ether—the -wireless at the naval observatory again received the mysterious call for -the presiding officer of the scientific congress. - -Professor Whiteman had remained at the observatory, in anticipation of -such a summons, and soon he, with other leading members of the scientific -assembly, was at the side of the operator in the wireless room. - -Almost immediately after the call: - - “KWO—KWO—KWO!” - -went forth into the ether, there came a response and the operator started -writing: - - “_To the Presiding officer of the International Scientific - Congress_: - - “_Communicate this to the various governments of the earth_: - - “_As a preliminary to the establishment of my sole rule - throughout the world, the following demands must be complied - with_: - - “_First: All standing armies shall be disbanded, and every - implement of warfare, of whatsoever nature, destroyed._ - - “_Second: All war vessels shall be assembled—those of the - Atlantic fleets midway between New York and Gibraltar, those - of the Pacific fleets midway between San Francisco and - Honolulu—and sunk._ - - “_Third: One-half of all the monetary gold supply of the world - shall be collected and turned over to my agents at places to be - announced later._ - - “_Fourth: At noon on the third day after the foregoing demands - have been complied with, all the existing governments shall - resign and surrender their powers to my agents, who will be on - hand to receive them._ - - “_In my next communication I will fix the date for the - fulfillment of these demands._ - - “_The alternative is the destruction of the globe._ - - “_KWO._” - -It was on the evening of this eventful day that Dr. Gresham and I -returned from Labrador. A little after 10 o’clock we landed in New York -and, taking a taxicab at the pier, started for our bachelor quarters in -apartments near each other west of Central Park. - -As we reached the center of town we were amazed at the excited crowds -that filled the streets and at the prodigious din raised by newsboys -selling extras. - -We stopped the car and bought papers. Huge black headings told the story -at a glance. Also, at the bottom of the first page, we found a brief -chronological summary of all that had happened, from the very beginning -of the mysterious wireless signals three months before. We scanned it -eagerly. - -When I finished the newspaper article I turned to my companion—and was -struck with horror at the change in his appearance! - -He was crumpled down upon the seat of the taxi, and his face had taken -on a ghastly hue. At first I though he had suffered a stroke. Only -his eyes held a sign of life, and they seemed fixed on something far -away—something too terrifying to be a part of the world around us. - -Seizing him by the shoulders, I tried to arouse him, exclaiming: - -“For heaven’s sake! What is the matter?” - -My words had no effect, so I shook him roughly. - -Then he slowly began to come to his senses. His lips moved, without any -sound passing them. But presently he found voice to murmur, as if talking -in his sleep: - -“It has come! The Seuen-H’sin—_the terrible Seuen-H’sin_!” - -An instant later, with a great effort, he drew himself together and spoke -sharply to the chauffeur: - -“Quick! Never mind those addresses we gave you! Rush us to the Grand -Central Station! _Hurry!_” - -As the car suddenly swerved into a side street, I turned to the doctor. - -“What’s the matter? Where are you going?” I asked. - -“To Washington!” he snapped, in reply to my second question. “As fast as -we can get there!” - -“In connection with this earthquake terror?” I inquired. - -“Yes!” he told me; “for—” - -There was a pause, and then he finished in a strange, awed voice: - -“What the world has seen of this devil ‘KWO’ is only the faintest -prelude to what may come—events so terrible, so utterly opposed to all -human experience, that they would stagger the imagination! _This is the -beginning of the dissolution of our planet!_” - - -_CHAPTER III._ - -THE SORCERERS OF CHINA - -“Doubtless you never heard of the Seuen-H’sin.” - -The speaker was Dr. Ferdinand Gresham, and these were the first words -he had uttered since we entered our private compartment on the midnight -express for Washington, an hour before. - -I lowered my cigar expectantly. - -“No,” I said; “never until you spoke the name in a momentary fit of -illness this evening.” - -The doctor gave me a swift, searching glance, as if questioning what I -might have learned. Presently he went to the door and looked out into the -passage, apparently assuring himself no one was within hearing; then, -locking the portal, he returned to his seat and said: - -“So you never heard of the Seuen-H’sin—‘The Sect of the Two Moons’? Then -I will tell you: the Seuen-H’sin are the sorcerers of China, and the most -murderously diabolical breed of human beings on this earth! They are the -makers of these earthquakes that are aimed to wreck our world!” - -The astronomer’s declaration so dumfounded me that I could only stare at -him, wondering if he were serious. - -“The Seuen-H’sin are sorcerers,” he repeated presently, “whose devilish -power is shaking our planet to the core. And I say to you solemnly that -this ‘KWO’—who is Kwo-Sung-tao, high priest of the Seuen-H’sin—is a -thousand times more dangerous than all the conquerors in history! Already -he has absolute control of a hundred millions of people—mind and body, -body and soul!—holding them enthralled by black arts so terrible that the -civilized mind cannot conceive of them!” - -Dr. Gresham leaned forward, his eyes shining brightly, his voice -betraying deep emotion. - -“Have you any idea,” he demanded, “what goes on in the farthermost -interior of China? Has _any_ American or European? - -“We read of a republic superseding her ancient monarchy, and we meet her -students who are sent here to our schools. We hear of the expansion of -our commerce along the jagged edges of that great Unknown, and we learn -of Chinese railroad projects fostered by our financiers. But no human -being in the outside world could possibly conceive what takes place -in that gigantic shadow land—vague and vast as the midnight heavens—a -continent unknown, impenetrable! - -“Shut away in that remote interior—in a valley so little heard of that it -is almost mythical—beyond trackless deserts and the loftiest mountains -on the globe—this terrible sect of sorcerers has been growing in power -for thousands of years, storing up secret energy that some day should -inundate the world with horrors such as never have been known! - -“And yet you never heard of the Seuen-H’sin! No; nor has any other -Caucasian, except, perhaps, a chance missionary or two. - -“But I tell you _I have seen them_!” - -Dr. Gresham was becoming strangely excited, and his voice rose almost -shrilly above the roar of the train. - -“I have seen them,” he went on. “I have crossed the Mountains of Fear, -whose summits tower as high as from the earth to the moon, and I have -watched the stars dance at night upon their glaciers. I have starved upon -the dead plains of Dzun-Sz’chuen, and I have swum the River of Death. -I have slept in the Caves of Nganhwiu, where the hot winds never cease -and the dead light their campfires on their journey to Nirvana. And I -have seen, too”—there was a strange, entranced look on his face as he -spoke—“I have seen the Shadow of God on Tseih Hwan and K’eech-ch’a-gan! -But in the end I have dwelt in Wu-yang! - -“Wu-yang,” he continued, after a brief pause, “is the center of the -Seuen-H’sin—a wondrous dream city beside a lake whose waters are as -opalescent as the sky at dawn; where the gardens are sweet-scented with -a million blooms, and the air is filed with bird songs and the music of -golden bells. - -“But forgive me,” sighed the doctor, rousing himself from his ecstatic -train of thought; “I speak in the allegories of another land!” - -We were silent for a time, until finally I suggested: - -“And the Seuen-H’sin—The Sect of the Two Moons?” - -“Ah, yes,” responded Dr. Gresham: “In Wu-yang the Beautiful I dwelt among -them. For three years that city was my home. I labored in its workshops, -studied in its schools, and—yes; I will admit it—I took part in those -hellish ceremonies in the Temple of the Moon God—to save myself from -death by fiendish torture. And, as my reward, I watched those devils at -their miraculous business—_the making of another moon_!” - -We smoked a moment in silence. Then: - -“Surely,” I objected, “you do not believe in miracles!” - -“Miracles? Yes,” he affirmed seriously—“miracles of science. For the -sorcerers of China are scientists—the greatest that this world has yet -produced! Talk to me of modern progress—our arts and sciences, our -discoveries and inventions. Bah! They are child’s play—clap-trap!—beside -the accomplishments of this race of Chinese devils! We Americans boast of -our Thomas Edison. Why, the Seuen-H’sin have a thousand Edisons! - -“Think of it—thousands of years before Copernicus discovered that the -earth revolves around the sun, Chinese astronomers understood the -nature of our solar system and accurately computed the movements of the -stars. The use of the magnetic compass was ancient even in those days. -A thousand years before Columbus was born their navigators visited the -western coast of North America and maintained colonies for a time. In the -year 2657 B. C. savants of the Seuen-H’sin completed engineering projects -on the Yellow River that never have been surpassed. And forty centuries -before Christ the physicians of China practiced inoculation against -smallpox and wrote erudite books on human anatomy. - -“Scientists? Why, man alive, the Seuen-H’sin are the greatest scientists -that ever lived! But they haven’t the machinery or the materials or the -factories that have made the Western nations great. There they are—shut -up in their hidden valley, with no commercial incentives, no contact with -the world, no desire but to study and experiment. - -“Their scientific development through centuries beyond number -has had only one object, which was the basis of their fanatical -religion—the discovery of a means to split this earth and project -an offshoot into space to form a second moon. And if our train -stopped this minute you probably could feel them somewhere beneath -you—hammering—hammering—hammering away at the world with their terrible -and mysterious power, which even now it may be too late to stop!” - -The astronomer rose and paced the length of the compartment, apparently -so deep in thought that I was loath to disturb him. But finally I asked: - -“Why do these sorcerers desire a second moon?” - -Dr. Gresham resumed his seat and, lighting a fresh cigar, began: - -“Numerous legends that are almost as old as the human race represent -that the earth once had two moons. And not a few modern astronomers have -held the same theory. Mars has two satellites, Uranus four, Jupiter five -and Saturn ten. The supposition of these scientists is that the second -satellite of the earth was shattered, and that its fragments are the -meteors which occasionally encounter our world in their flight. - -“Now, in the far, far distant past, before the days of Huang-ti and -Yu—even before the time of the great semi-mythical kings, Yao and -Shun—there ruled in China an emperor of peculiar fame—Ssu-chuan, the -Universal. - -“Ssu-chuan was a man of weak character and mediocre talents, but his -reign was the greatest in all Chinese history, due to the intelligence -and energy of his empress, Chwang-Keang. - -“In those days, the legends tell us, the world possessed two moons. - -“At the height of his prosperity Ssu-chuan fell in love with a very -beautiful girl, called Mei-hsi, who became his mistress. - -“The Empress Chwang-Keang was as plain as Mei-hsi was beautiful, and in -time the mistress prevailed upon her lord to plot his wife’s murder, -so that Mei-hsi might be queen. Chwang-Keang was stabbed to death one -evening in her garden. - -“With her death begins the history of Seuen-H’sin. - -“Simultaneous with the murder of the empress, one of the moons vanished -from the sky. The Chinese legends say the spirit of the great ruler -took refuge upon the satellite, which fled with her from sight of the -earth. Modern astronomers say the satellite probably was shattered by an -internal explosion. - -“Now that the firm hand of Chwang-Keang was lifted from affairs of state, -everything went wrong in China—until the country reverted virtually to -savagery. - -“At last Ssu-chuan aroused himself from his pleasures sufficiently to -take alarm. He consulted his priests and seers, who assured him that -heaven was angry because of the murder of Chwang-Keang. Never again, -they said, would China know happiness or prosperity until the vanished -moon returned, bringing the spirit of the dead empress to watch over the -affairs of her beloved land. Upon her return, however, the glory of China -would rise again, and the Son of Heaven would rule the world. - -“Upon receiving these tidings, the legends relate, Ssu-chuan was consumed -with pious zeal. - -“Upon a lofty mountain behind the city he built the most magnificent -temple in the world, and installed there a special priesthood to beseech -heaven to restore the second moon. This priesthood was named the -Seuen-H’sin, or Sect of the Two Moons. The worship of the Moon God was -declared the state religion. - -“Gradually the belief that the Seuen-H’sin was to restore the second -moon—and that, when this happened, the Celestial Kingdom again would -enjoy universal rule—became the fanatical faith of a fourth of China. - -“But finally, in a fit of remorse, Ssu-chuan burnt himself alive in his -palace. - -“The empire of Ssu-chuan dissolved, but the Seuen-H’sin grew greater. -Its high priest attained the most terrible and far-reaching power in -China. But in the second century B. C., Shi-Hwang-ti, the great military -emperor, made war upon the sorcerers and drove them across the Kuen-lun -mountains. Still they retained great wealth and power; and in Wu-yang -they made a city that is the dream spot of the world, equipped with -splendid colleges for the study of astronomy and the sciences and magic. - -“As astronomical knowledge increased among the Seuen-H’sin, they came to -believe that the moon once was a part of the earth, having been blown out -of the hollow now filled by the Pacific Ocean. In this theory certain -eminent American and French astronomers lately have concurred. - -“The Chinese sorcerers conceived the idea that by scientific means the -earth again could be rent asunder, and its offshoot projected into space -to form a second moon. Henceforth, all their labors were directed toward -finding that means. And the lust for world domination became the religion -of their race. - -“When I dwelt among them they seemed to be drawing near their goal—and -now they probably have reached it! - -“But if we may judge from these demands of Kwo-Sung-tao, their plans for -world conquest have taken a new and simpler turn: by threatening to use -their mysterious force to dismember the globe they hope to subjugate -mankind just as effectively as they expected to do by creating a second -moon and fulfilling their prophecy. Why wreck the earth, if they can -conquer it by threats? - -“If they are able to enforce their demands it will not be long before -civilization is face-to-face with those powers of evil that grind -a quarter of China’s millions beneath their ghastly rule—a rule of -fanaticism and terror that would stun the world!” - -Dr. Gresham paused and peered out the window. There was an unearthly look -on his face when he again turned toward me. - -“I have seen,” he said, “those hideous powers of the Seuen-H’sin—things -of horror such as the Western mind cannot conceive! When the beating of -my heart shall cease forever, when my body has been buried in the grave, -and when the Seuen-H’sin’s torture scars”—he tore open his shirt and -revealed frightful cicatrices upon his chest—“have vanished in the final -dissolution, then, even then, I shall not forget those devils out of hell -in Wu-yang, and I shall feel their power clutching at my soul!” - - -_CHAPTER IV._ - -DR. GRESHAM TAKES COMMAND - -It was shortly before dawn when we alighted from the train in Washington. -Newsboys were calling extras: - -“Terrible disaster! Nine thousand lives lost in Mississippi River!” - -Purchasing copies of the papers, Dr. Gresham called a taxicab and -directed the chauffeur to take us as rapidly as possible to the United -States Naval Observatory in Georgetown. We read the news as we rode along. - -The great railroad bridge across the Mississippi River at St. Louis had -collapsed, plunging three trains into the stream and drowning virtually -all the passengers; and a few minutes later the Mississippi had ceased to -flow past the city, pouring into a huge gap that suddenly had opened in -the earth at a point about twenty-five miles northwest of the town. - -Nearly everyone in St. Louis who could get an automobile had started for -the point where the Mississippi was tumbling into the earth, and before -long a vast crowd had assembled along the edges of the steaming chasm, -watching the phenomenon. - -Suddenly there had come a heavy shock underground and the crack had -heaved nearly shut, sending a vast geyser, the full width of the stream, -spouting a couple of thousand feet aloft. A few moments later this -huge column of water had thundered back upon the river banks where the -spectators were gathered, stunning and engulfing thousands. At the same -time the gash had opened again and into it the torrent had swept the -helpless multitude. Then it had closed once more and remained so, and the -river had resumed its flow. - -It was estimated that more than 9,000 persons had perished. - -“Kwo-Sung-tao has stopped his earthquakes,” remarked Dr. Gresham, when -he had finished scanning the newspaper reports, “but irreparable damage -has been done. Enough water doubtless has found its way into the heated -interior of the globe to form a steam pressure that will play havoc.” - -Soon we drew up at the white-domed observatory crowning the wooded hill -beyond Wisconsin Avenue. It was our good fortune to find Professor Howard -Whiteman and several prominent members of the international scientific -congress still there. - -After a brief conversation with these gentlemen—to whom he was well known -by reputation—Dr. Gresham drew Professor Whiteman and two of his chief -assistants aside and began questioning them about the disturbances. He -gave not the slightest hint of his knowledge of the Seuen-H’sin. - -The doctor was particularly interested in every detail regarding the -course taken by the quakes—whether or not all of them had come from the -same direction, what that direction was, and how far away the point of -origin seemed to be. - -Professor Whiteman said the seismographs indicated the tremors all _had_ -come from one direction—a point somewhere to the northwest—and had -traveled in a general southeasterly course. It was his opinion that the -seat of the disturbances was about 3,000 miles distant—certainly not more -than 4,000 miles. - -This appeared greatly to surprise my companion and to upset whatever -theories he might have in mind. Finally he asked to see all the data on -the tremors, especially the actual seismograph records. At once we were -taken to the building where these records were kept. - -For more than an hour Dr. Gresham intently studied the charts and -calculations, making new computations of his own and referring to -numerous maps. But the longer he worked, the more puzzled he became. - -Suddenly he looked up with an exclamation, and after seemingly weighing -some new idea, he turned to me and said: - -“Arthur, I need your help. Go to one of the newspaper offices and look -through the files of old copies for an account of the capture of the -Pacific Steamship _Nippon_ by Chinese pirates. Try to find out what cargo -the vessel carried. If the newspaper accounts do not give this, then try -at the State Department. But hurry!” - -We had kept our taxicab waiting, so I was soon speeding toward one of the -newspaper offices on Pennsylvania Avenue. As I rode along I brought to -mind the strange and terrible story of the great Pacific liner. - -The _Nippon_ was the newest and largest of the fleet of huge ships in -service between San Francisco and the Orient. Fifteen months previous, -while running from Nagasaki to Shanghai, across the entrance to the -Yellow Sea, she had encountered a typhoon of such violence that one of -her propeller shafts was damaged, and after the storm abated she was -obliged to stop at sea for repairs. - -It was an intensely dark, quiet night. About midnight the officer of the -watch suddenly heard from the deck amidship a wild, long-drawn yell. -Then all became quiet again. As he started to descend from the bridge he -heard bare feet pattering along the deck below. And then more cries arose -forward—the most awful sounds. Rushing to his cabin, he seized a revolver -and returned to the deck. - -Surging over the rail at a dozen points were savage, half-naked yellow -forms, gripping long, curved knives—the dreaded but almost-extinct -Chinese pirates of the Yellow Sea. The fiends swiftly attacked a number -of passengers who had been promenading about, murdering them in cold -blood. - -Meanwhile, other pirates were rushing to all parts of the ship. - -As soon as he recovered from his first horrified shock, the officer -leaped toward a group of the Chinamen and emptied his revolver into them. -But the pirates far outnumbered the cartridges in his weapon, and when -his last bullet had been fired several of the yellow devils darted at -him with gleaming knives. Whereupon the officer turned and fled to the -wireless operator’s room nearby. - -He got inside and fastened the heavy door just a second ahead of his -pursuers. While the Chinamen were battering at the portal, he had the -operator send out wireless calls for help, telling what was occurring on -board. - -Several ships and land stations picked up the strange story as far as I -have related it, at which point the message ceased abruptly. - -From that instant the _Nippon_ vanished as completely as if she never had -existed. Not one word ever again was heard of the vessel or of a single -soul on board. - -It required only a few minutes’ search through the newspaper files to -find the information I sought, and soon I was back at the observatory. - -Dr. Gresham greeted me eagerly. - -“The Steamship _Nippon_,” I reported, “carried a cargo of American shoes, -plows and lumber.” - -My friend’s face fell with keen disappointment. - -“What else?” he inquired. “Weren’t there other things?” - -“Lots of odds and ends,” I replied—“pianos, automobiles, sewing machines, -machinery—” - -“_Machinery?_” the doctor shot out quickly. “What kind of machinery?” - -I drew from my pocket the penciled notes I had made at the newspaper -office and glanced over the items. - -“Some electrical equipment,” I answered. “Dynamos, turbines, -switchboards, copper cable—all such things—for a hydro-electric plant -near Hong-kong.” - -“Ah!” exclaimed the doctor in elation. “I was sure of it! We may be -getting at the mystery at last!” - -Seizing the memoranda, he ran his eyes hurriedly down the list of items. -Profound confidence marked his bearing when he turned to Professor -Whiteman a moment later and said: - -“I must obtain an immediate audience with the President of the United -States. You know him personally. Can you arrange it?” - -Professor Whiteman could not conceal his surprise. - -“Concerning these earthquakes?” he inquired. - -“Yes!” my friend assured him. - -The astronomer looked at his colleague keenly. - -“I will see what I can do,” he said. And he went off to a telephone. - -In five minutes he was back. - -“The President and his cabinet meet at 9 o’clock,” announced the -director. “You will be received at that hour.” - -Dr. Gresham looked at his watch. It was 8:30. - -“If you will be so kind,” said Dr. Gresham, “I would like to have you go -with us to the President—and Sir William Belford, Monsieur Linne and the -Duke de Rizzio as well, if they are still here. What we have to discuss -is of the utmost importance to their governments, as well as to ours.” - -Professor Whiteman signified his own willingness to go, and went to hunt -the other gentlemen. - -This trio my friend had named comprised undoubtedly the leading minds -of the international scientific congress. Sir William Belford was the -great English physicist, head of the British delegation to the congress. -Monsieur Camille Linne was the leader of the French group of scientists, -a distinguished electrical expert. And the Duke de Rizzio was the famous -Italian inventor and wireless telegraph authority, who headed the -representatives from Rome. - -The director soon returned with the three visitors, and we all hastened -to the White House. Promptly at 9 o’clock we were ushered into the room -where the nation’s chief executive and his cabinet—all grim and careworn -from a night of sleepless anxiety—were in session. - -As briefly as possible, Dr. Gresham told the story of the Seuen-H’sin. - -“It is their purpose,” he concluded, “to crack open the earth’s crust by -these repeated shocks, so the water from the oceans will pour into the -globe’s interior. There, coming into contact with incandescent matter, -steam will be generated until there is an explosion that will split the -planet in two.” - -It is hardly to the discredit of the President and his advisers that they -could not at once accept so fantastic a tale. - -“How can these Chinamen produce an artificial quaking of the earth?” -asked the President. - -“That,” replied the astronomer frankly, “I am not prepared to answer -yet—although I have a strong suspicion of the method employed.” - -For the greater part of an hour the gentlemen questioned the astronomer. -They did not express doubt of his veracity in his account of the -Seuen-H’sin, but merely questioned his judgment in attributing to that -sect the terrible power to control the internal forces of the earth. - -“You are asking us,” objected the Secretary of State, “virtually to -return to the Dark Ages and believe in magicians and sorcerers and -supernatural events!” - -“Not at all!” returned the astronomer. “I am asking you to deal with -modern facts—to grapple with scientific ideas that are so far ahead of -our times the world is not prepared to accept them!” - -“Then you believe that an unheard-of group of Chinamen, hiding in some -remote corner of the globe, has developed a higher form of science than -the brightest minds of all the civilized nations?” remarked the Attorney -General. - -“Events of the last few weeks seem to have demonstrated that,” replied -Dr. Gresham. - -“But,” protested the President, “if these Mongolians aim at splitting the -globe to project a new moon into the sky, why should they be satisfied -with an entirely different object—the acquisition of temporal power?” - -“Because,” the scientist informed him, “the acquisition of temporal power -is their ultimate goal. Their only object in creating a second moon is to -fulfill the prophecy that they should rule the earth again when two moons -hung in the sky. If they can grasp universal rule _without_ splitting the -globe—merely by _threatening_ to do so—they are very much the gainers.” - -The Secretary of the Navy next voiced a doubt. - -“But it is evident,” he remarked, “that if Kwo-Sung-tao makes the heavens -fall, they will fall on his own head also!” - -“Quite true,” admitted the astronomer. - -“Then,” persisted the Secretary, “is it likely that human beings would -plot the destruction of the earth when they knew it would involve them, -too, in the ruin?” - -“You forget,” returned the doctor, “that we are dealing with a band of -religious fanatics—undoubtedly the most irrational zealots that ever -lived! - -“Besides,” he added, “the Seuen-H’sin, in spite of its threats, does not -expect to destroy the world completely. It contemplates no more than the -blowing of a fragment off into space.” - -“What, then, shall be done?” inquired the President. - -“Place at my disposal one of the fastest destroyers of the Pacific -fleet—equipped with certain scientific apparatus I shall devise—and let -me deal with the Seuen-H’sin in my own way,” announced the astronomer. - -The gathering at once voiced vigorous objection. - -“What you propose might mean war with China!” exclaimed the President. - -“Not at all,” was the answer. “It is possible not a single shot will be -fired. And, in any event, we will not go anywhere near China.” - -The consternation of the officials increased. - -“We shall not go near China,” Dr. Gresham explained, “because I am -certain the leaders of the Seuen-H’sin are no longer there. At this very -hour, I am convinced, Kwo-Sung-tao and his devilish band are very much -nearer to us than you dream!” - -The gathering broke into excited discussion. - -“After all,” remarked Sir William Belford, “suppose this expedition -_should_ plunge us into hostilities. Unless something is done quickly, we -are likely to meet a fate far worse than war!” - -“I am willing to do anything necessary to remove this menace from the -world—if the menace actually exists,” the President stated. “But I am -unable to convince myself that these wireless messages threatening -mankind are not merely the emanations of a crank, who is taking advantage -of conditions over which he has no control.” - -“But I maintain,” argued Sir William, “that the sender of these messages -_has_ fully demonstrated his control over our planet. He prophesied a -definite performance, and that prophecy was fulfilled to the letter. We -cannot attribute its fulfillment to natural causes, nor to any human -agency other than his. I say it is time we recognized his power, and -dealt with him as best we may.” - -Several others now began to incline to this view. - -Whereupon the Attorney General joined in the discussion with considerable -warmth. - -“I must protest,” he interposed, “against what seems to me an -extraordinary credulity upon the part of many of you gentlemen. I view -this affair as a rational human being. Some natural phenomenon occurred -to disturb the solidity of the earth’s crust. That disturbance has -ceased. Some joker or lunatic was lucky enough to strike it right with -his prediction of this cessation—nothing more. The disturbance may never -reappear. Or it may resume at any moment and end in a calamity. No one -can foretell. But when you ask me to believe that these earthquakes were -due to some human agency—that a mysterious bugaboo was responsible for -them—I tell you _no_!” - -Monsieur Linne had risen and was walking nervously up and down the room. -Presently he turned to the Attorney General and remarked: - -“That is merely your opinion, sir. It is not proof. Why may these -earthquakes not be due to some human agency? Have we not begun to solve -all the mysteries of nature? A few years ago it was inconceivable that -electricity could ever be used for power, heat and light. May not many -of the inconceivable things of today be the commonplace realities of -tomorrow? We have earthquakes. Is it beyond imagination that the forces -which produce them can be controlled?” - -“Still,” returned the Attorney General vigorously, “my answer is that -we have no adequate reason for attributing either the appearance or the -cessation of these earthquakes to any human power! And I am unalterably -opposed to making the government of the United States ridiculous by -fitting out a naval expedition to combat a phantom adversary.” - -Dr. Gresham now had risen and was standing behind his chair, his face -flushed and his eyes shining. At this point he broke sharply into the -discussion, the cold, cutting force of his words leaving no doubt of his -decision. - -“Gentlemen,” he said, “I did not come here to _argue_; I came to -_help_! As surely as I am standing here, our world is upon the brink of -dissolution! And I alone may be able to save it! But, if I am to do so, -you must agree absolutely to the course of action I propose!” - -He glanced at his watch. It was 10 o’clock. - -“At noon,” he announced, in tones of finality, “I shall return for my -answer!” - -And he turned and started for the door. - -In the tenseness of those last few moments, almost no one had been -conscious of the soft buzzing of the President’s telephone signal, or of -the fact that the executive had removed the receiver and was listening -into the instrument. - -Now, as Dr. Gresham reached the door, the President lifted a hand in a -commanding gesture and cried: “Wait!” - -The astronomer turned back into the room. - -For a minute, perhaps, the President listened at the telephone; and as -he did so the expression of his face underwent a grave change. Then, -telling the person at the other end of the wire to wait, he addressed the -gathering: - -“The naval observatory at Georgetown is on the ’phone. There has just -been another communication from ‘KWO.’ It says—” - -The executive again spoke into the telephone: “Read the message once -more, please!” - -After a few seconds, speaking slowly, he repeated: - - “‘_To the President Officer of the International Scientific - Congress:_ - - “‘_I hereby set the hour of noon, on the twenty-fifth day - of the next month, September, as the time when I shall - require compliance with the first three demands of my last - communication. The fulfillment of the fourth demand—the - resignation of all the existing governments—therefore, will - take place on the twenty-eighth day of September._ - - “‘_In order to facilitate the execution of my plans, I shall - require an answer by midnight next Saturday, one week from - today, from the governments of the world as to whether they - will comply with my terms of surrender. In the absence of a - favorable reply by that time, I shall terminate, absolutely and - forever, all negotiations with the human race, and shall cause - the earthquakes to resume and continue with increasing violence - until the earth is shattered._ - - “‘_KWO._’” - -When the President finished reading and hung up the telephone, a -deathlike silence fell upon the gathering. Dr. Gresham, standing by the -door, made no further movement to depart. - -The President glanced at the faces about him, as if seeking some solution -of the problem. But no aid was forthcoming from that source. - -Suddenly the silence was broken by a chair being pushed back from the -table, and Sir William Belford rose to speak. - -“Gentlemen,” he said, “this is no time for hesitation. If the United -States does not immediately grant Dr. Gresham’s request for a naval -expedition against the Seuen-H’sin, Great Britain _will_ do so!” - -At once Monsieur Linne spoke up: “And that is the attitude of France!” - -The Duke de Rizzio nodded, as if in acquiescence. - -Without further hesitation, the President announced his decision. - -“I will take the responsibility for acting first and explaining to -Congress afterward,” he said. And, turning to the Secretary of the Navy, -he added: - -“Please see that Dr. Gresham gets whatever ships, men, money and supplies -he needs—without delay!” - - -_CHAPTER V._ - -BEGINNING A STRANGE VOYAGE - -Immediately after obtaining the President’s permission to combat the -Seuen-H’sin, Dr. Ferdinand Gresham went into conference with the -Secretary of the Navy and his aides. Soon telegraphic orders flew thick -and fast from Washington, and before nightfall two high naval officers -left the capital for San Francisco personally to expedite arrangements -for the expedition. - -Meanwhile, the doctor hurried me back to New York with instructions to -visit the electrical concern that had manufactured the dynamos and other -equipment that had been aboard the Steamship _Nippon_, and obtain all the -information possible about this machinery. This I did without difficulty. - -The government arranged with a big electrical machinery firm to place -a section of its plant at Dr. Gresham’s disposal, and as soon as the -astronomer returned to New York he plunged into feverish activity at this -shop, personally superintending the construction of his paraphernalia. - -As fast as this apparatus was completed it was rushed off by airplane to -the Mare Island Navy Yard at San Francisco. - -It had already been settled that I was to accompany the doctor on his -expedition, so my friend availed himself of my services for many tasks. -Some of these struck me as most odd. - -I had to purchase a large quantity of fine silks of brilliant hues, -mostly orange, blue and violet; also a supply of grease paints and other -materials for theatrical make-up. These articles were sent to Mare Island -with the scientific equipment. - -Day by day, the week which “KWO” had granted the world to announce -its surrender slipped by. During this period the utmost secrecy was -maintained regarding the projected naval expedition. The public knew -nothing of the strange story of the sorcerers of China. Anxiety was -universal and acute. - -Many persons favored surrender to the would-be “emperor of the earth,” -arguing that any person who proposed to abolish war, possessed a -greatness of spirit far beyond any known statesman; they were willing -to entrust the future of the world to such a dictator. Others contended -that the demand for destruction of all implements of war was merely a -precautionary measure against resistance to tyranny. - -Dr. Gresham urged to the authorities at Washington that in dealing with -so unscrupulous and inhuman a foe as the sorcerers, equally unscrupulous -methods were justified. He proposed that the nations inform “KWO” they -would surrender, which would ward off the immediate resumption of the -earthquakes and give the naval expedition time to accomplish its work. - -But the governments could not agree upon any course of action; and in -this state of indecision the last day of grace drew toward its close. - -As midnight approached, vast crowds assembled about the newspaper -offices, eager to learn what was going to happen. - -At last the fateful hour came—and passed in silence. The world had failed -to concede its surrender. - -Five minutes more slipped into eternity. - -Then there was a sudden stir as bulletins appeared. Their message was -brief. At three minutes past 12 o’clock the wireless at the United States -Naval Observatory had received this communication: - - “_To All Mankind:_ - - “_I have given the world an opportunity to continue in peace - and prosperity. My offer has been rejected. The responsibility - is upon your own heads. This is my final message to the human - race._ - - “_KWO._” - -Within an hour the earthquakes resumed. And they were repeated, as -before, exactly eleven minutes and six seconds apart. - -With their reappearance vanished the last vestige of doubt that the -terrestrial disturbances were due to human agency—to a being powerful -enough to do what he chose with the planet. - -By the end of three days it was noticed that the shocks were increasing -in violence much swifter than previously, as if the earth’s crust had -been so weakened that it could no longer resist the hammering. - -At this juncture Dr. Gresham announced that he was ready to leave for the -Pacific Coast. The government had one of its giant mail planes waiting -at an aviation field on Long Island, and in its comfortable enclosed -interior we were whisked across the continent. - -In less than two days we alighted at the Mare Island Navy Yard, where the -_Albatross_, the destroyer that was to serve for our expedition, lay at -our disposal. - -The _Albatross_ was the newest, largest and fastest destroyer of the -Pacific fleet—an oil-burning craft carrying a crew of 117 men. - -Most of the boxes and crates of material that we had sent from New York -being already on deck, the astronomer immediately went to work with a -corps of the navy’s electricians to assemble his apparatus. - -I was sent off to find six men tailors, all familiar with the making -of theatrical costumes, who were willing to undertake a mysterious and -dangerous sea voyage; also two actors skilled in make-up. - -All during this time the earthquakes never varied from their interval of -eleven minutes and six seconds, and the seriousness of affairs throughout -the world continued to grow. In Europe and America deep fissures, -sometimes hundreds of miles long, now appeared in the ground. Gradually -it became apparent that these cracks in the earth’s crust were confined -within a definite area, which roughly formed a circle touching the -Mississippi River on the west and Serbia on the east. - -Then, on the morning after our arrival in San Francisco, half a dozen -noted scientists—none of whom, however, belonged to the little group -that had been taken into Dr. Gresham’s confidence regarding the -Seuen-H’sin—issued a warning to the public. - -They prophesied that the world soon would be rent by an explosion, and -that the portion within the circular area already outlined would be blown -away into space or would be pulverized. - -Nearly one-fifth of the entire surface of the earth was included in this -doomed circle, embracing the most civilized countries of the globe—the -eastern half of the United States and Canada; all of the British Isles, -France, Spain, Italy, Portugal, Switzerland, Belgium, Holland and -Denmark; and most of Germany, Austria-Hungary and Brazil. Here, too, were -located the world’s greatest cities—New York, London, Paris, Berlin, -Vienna, Rome, Chicago, Boston, Washington and Philadelphia. - -The scientists urged the people of the eastern United States and Canada -to flee immediately beyond the Rocky Mountains, while the inhabitants of -western Europe were advised to take refuge east of the Carpathians. - -The first result of this warning was simply to daze the public. But -in a few hours the true character of the predicted happenings dawned -upon people in full force. Then terror—blind, sickening, unreasoning -terror—seized the masses, and there began the most gigantic and terrible -exodus in the history of the earth—a migration that in a few hours -developed into a mad race of half the planet’s inhabitants across -thousands of miles. - -Transportation systems were seized by the frenzied throngs and rendered -useless in the jam. People started frantically in airplanes, automobiles, -horsedrawn vehicles—even on foot. All restraints of law and order -vanished in the hideous struggle of “every man for himself.” - -At last, toward midnight of this day, Dr. Gresham finished his work. -Together we made a final tour of inspection through the ship—which gave -me my first opportunity to see most of the scientific paraphernalia the -doctor had constructed. - -Electrical equipment was scattered everywhere—several big generators, a -whole battery of huge induction coils, submarine telephones, switchboards -with strange clocklike devices mounted upon them, and reels of heavy -copper wire. - -One thing that particularly attracted my attention was an instrument at -the very bottom of the ship’s hold. It looked like the seismographs used -on land for recording earthquakes. I observed, too, that the wireless -telegraph equipment of the destroyer had been much enlarged, giving it an -exceedingly wide radius. - -The crated parts of two hydroplanes lay on deck, besides half a dozen -light, portable mountain mortars, with a quantity of high-explosive -ammunition. - -At the finish of our inspection, the doctor sought Commander Mitchell, -the vessel’s chief officer, and announced: - -“You may start at once—on the course I have outlined.” - -A few minutes later we were silently speeding toward the Golden Gate. - -Dr. Gresham and myself then went to bed. - -When we awoke the next morning we were out of sight of land and were -steaming at full speed north in the Pacific Ocean. - - -_CHAPTER VI._ - -THE COASTS OF MYSTERY - -Hour after hour the destroyer kept up her furious pace almost due north -in the Pacific. We never came in sight of land, and it was impossible for -me to guess whence we were bound. - -Throughout the first day Dr. Gresham remained in his stateroom—silent, -troubled, buried in a mass of arithmetical calculations. - -In another part of the ship the six tailors I had brought on board -labored diligently upon a number of Chinese costumes, the designs for -which the doctor had sketched for them. - -And on deck a detail of men was busy unpacking and assembling one of the -two hydroplanes. - -By the middle of the second day Dr. Gresham laid aside his calculations -and began to display the keenest interest in the details of the voyage. -About midnight he had the ship stopped, although neither land nor any -other craft was in sight; whereupon he went to the hold and studied the -hydro-seismographs. To my surprise I saw that, although we were adrift -upon the restless ocean, the instrument was recording tremors similar -to earthquakes on land. These occurred precisely eleven minutes and six -seconds apart. - -Seeing my astonishment, the doctor explained: - -“It is possible to record earth shocks even at sea. The ocean bed imparts -the jar to the water, through which the tremor continues like the wave -caused by throwing a stone into a pond.” - -But the thing which seemed to interest my friend most was that these -shocks now appeared to be originating at some point to the northeast of -us, instead of to the northwest, as we had noted them in Washington. - -Soon he ordered the vessel started again, this time on a northeasterly -course, and the next morning we were close to land. - -Dr. Gresham, who at last had begun to throw off his taciturn mood, told -me this was the coast of the almost unsettled province of Cassiar, in -British Columbia. Later, as we began to pass behind some rugged islands, -he said we were entering Fitz Hugh Sound, a part of the “inland passage” -to Alaska. We were now approximately 300 miles northwest of the city of -Vancouver. - -“Somewhere, not far to the north of here,” added the doctor, “is ‘The -Country of the Great Han,’ where Chinese navigators, directed by -Huei-Sen, a Buddhist priest, landed and founded colonies in the year 499 -A. D. You will find it all recorded in ‘The Book of Changes,’ which was -written in the reign of Tai-ming, in the dynasty of Yung: how, between -the years 499 and 556, Chinese adventurers made many trips across the -Pacific to these colonies, bringing to the wild inhabitants the laws of -Buddha, his sacred books and images; building stone temples; and causing -at last the rudeness of the natives’ customs to disappear.” - -With this my friend left me, upon some summons from the ship’s commander, -and I could learn no more. - -The region into which we were now penetrating was one of the wildest -and loneliest on the North American continent. The whole coastline was -fringed by a chain of islands—the tops of a submerged mountain range. -Between these islands and the continent extended a maze of deep, narrow -channels, some of which connected in a continuous inland waterway. The -mainland was a wilderness of lofty peaks, penetrated at intervals by -tortuous fiords, which, according to the charts, sometimes extended -erratically inland for a hundred miles or more. Back from the coast a few -miles, we could see the elevated gorges of the main range filled with -glaciers, and occasionally one of these gigantic rivers of ice pushed -out to the Sound, where its face broke away in an endless flotilla of -icebergs. - -The only dwellers in this region were the few inhabitants of the tiny -Indian fishing villages, scattered many miles apart; and even of these we -saw not a sign throughout the day. - -Toward nightfall the doctor had the _Albatross_ drop anchor in a quiet -lagoon, and the hydroplane that had been assembled on deck was lowered to -the water. - -It now lacked two nights of the period of full moon, and the nearly -round satellite hung well overhead as darkness fell, furnishing, in that -clear atmosphere, a beautiful illumination in which every detail of the -surrounding mountains stood forth. - -As soon as the last trace of daylight had vanished, Dr. Gresham, equipped -with a pair of powerful binoculars, appeared on deck, accompanied by an -aviator. He said nothing about where he was going; and, knowing his moods -so intimately, I realized it was useless to seek information until he -volunteered it. But he handed me a large sealed envelope, remarking: - -“I am going for a trip that may take all night. In case I should not -return by sun-up you will know something has happened to me, and you -are to open this envelope and have Commander Mitchell act upon the -instructions it contains.” - -With this, he gave me a firm hand-clasp that plainly was meant for a -possible farewell, and followed the aviator into the plane. In a few -moments they were off, their new type of noiseless motor making scarcely -a sound, and soon were climbing towards the summits of the snow-crowned -peaks to the eastward. Almost before we realized it, they were lost from -sight. - -It was my intention to keep watch through the night for the return of my -friend; but after several hours I fell asleep and knew no more until dawn -was reddening the mountaintops. Then the throbbing of the destroyer’s -engines awakened me, and I hurried on deck to find Dr. Gresham himself -giving orders for the vessel’s movements. - -The scientist never once referred to the events of the night as he -partook of a light breakfast and went to bed. However, I could tell by -his manner that he had not met with success. - -Slowly the ship continued northward most of that day, through the awesome -fastnesses of Fitz Hugh Sound, until we reached the mouth of a grim fiord -set down on the charts as Dean Channel. Here we cast anchor. - -Late in the afternoon Dr. Gresham put in his appearance, viewed the -mainland through his glasses, and then went into the ship’s hold to study -his earthquake recorder. What he observed apparently pleased him. - -This night also was moonlit and crystal-clear; and, as before, when -daylight had departed, the doctor reminded me of the sealed orders I held -against his failure to return at sunrise, bade me farewell, and started -off in the airship, flying straight toward the range of peaks that walled -the eastern world. - -On this occasion a series of remarkable happenings removed all difficulty -of my keeping awake. - -About 10 o’clock, when I chanced to be visiting in the commander’s cabin, -an officer came and informed us of some strange lights that had been -observed above the mountains at a distance inland. We went on deck and, -sure enough, beheld a peculiar and inexplicable phenomenon. - -To the northeast the heavens were illuminated at intervals by flashes -of white light extending, fan-shaped, far overhead. The display was as -brilliant and beautiful as it was mysterious. For a good while we watched -it—until I was suddenly struck with the regularity of the intervals -between the flashes. Timing the lights with my watch, I found they -occurred _precisely eleven minutes and six seconds apart_! - -With a new idea in mind, I made a note of the exact instant when each -flash appeared; then I went down into the hold of the ship and looked at -Dr. Gresham’s hydro-seismograph. As I suspected, the aerial flashes had -occurred simultaneously with the earthquakes. - -When I returned to the deck the phenomenon in the sky had ceased, and it -did not appear again all night. - -But shortly after midnight another portentous event occurred to claim -undivided attention. - -The powerful wireless of the _Albatross_, which could hear messages -coming and going throughout the United States and Canada, as well as -over a great part of the Pacific Ocean, began to pick up accounts of -terrible happenings all over the world. The fissures in the ground, which -had appeared shortly before we left San Francisco, had suddenly widened -and lengthened into a nearly-unbroken ring about the portion of the -globe from which the inhabitants had been warned to flee. Within this -danger-circle the ground had begun to vibrate heavily and continuously—as -the lid of a tea kettle “dances” when the pressure of steam beneath it is -seeking a vent. - -The flight of the public from the doomed area had grown into an appalling -hegira—until a fresh disaster, a few hours ago, had suddenly cut it -short: the Rocky Mountains had begun to fall down throughout most of -their extent, obliterating all the railroads and other highways that -penetrated their chain. Now the way to safety beyond the mountains was -hopelessly blocked. - -And with this catastrophe hell had broken loose among the people of -America! - -It was near dawn before these stories ceased. The officers and myself -were still discussing them when day broke and we beheld Dr. Gresham’s -hydroplane circling high overhead, seeking a landing. In a few minutes -the doctor was with us. - -The instant I set eyes on him I knew he had met with some degree of -success. But he said nothing until we were alone and I had poured out the -tale of the night’s happenings. - -“So you saw the flashes?” remarked the doctor. - -“We were greatly puzzled by them,” I admitted. “And you?” - -“I was directly above them and saw them made,” he announced. - -“Saw them _made_?” I repeated. - -“Yes,” he assured me; “indeed, I have had a most interesting trip. I -would have taken you with me, only it would have increased the danger, -without serving any purpose. However, I am going on another jaunt -tonight, in which you might care to join me.” - -I told him I was most eager to do so. - -“Very well,” he approved; “then you had better go to bed and get all the -rest you can, for our adventure will not be child’s play.” - -The doctor then sought the ship’s commander and asked him to proceed very -slowly up the deep and winding Dean Channel, keeping a sharp lookout -ahead. As soon as the vessel started we went to bed. - -It was mid-afternoon when we awakened. Looking out our cabin portholes, -we saw we were moving slowly past lofty granite precipices that were so -close it seemed we might almost reach out and touch them. Quickly we got -on deck. - -Upon being informed that we had gone about seventy-five miles up Dean -Channel, Dr. Gresham stationed himself on the bridge with a pair of -powerful glasses, and for several hours gave the closest scrutiny ahead, -as new vistas of the tortuous waterway unfolded. - -We now seemed to be passing directly into the heart of the lofty Cascade -Mountain range that runs the length of Cassiar Province in British -Columbia. At times the cliffs bordering the fiord drew in so close that -it seemed we had reached the end of the channel, while again they rounded -out into graceful slopes thickly carpeted with pines. Still there was no -sign that the foot of man ever had trod this wilderness. - -Late in the afternoon Dr. Gresham became very nervous, and toward -twilight he had the ship stopped and a launch lowered. - -“We will start at once,” he told me, “and Commander Mitchell will go with -us.” - -Taking from me the sealed letter of instructions he had left in my care -before starting on his airplane trips the previous nights, he handed it -to the commander, saying: “Give this to the officer you leave in charge -of the ship. It is his orders in case anything should happen to us and we -do not return by morning. Also, please triple the strength of the night -watch. Run your vessel close under the shadows of the bank, and keep her -pitch dark. We are now in the heart of the enemy’s country, and we can’t -tell what sort of a lookout he may be keeping.” - -While Commander Mitchell was attending to these orders, the doctor sent -me below to get a pair of revolvers for each of us. When I returned the -three of us entered the launch and put off up the channel. - -Slowly and noiselessly we moved ahead in the gathering shadows near -shore. The astronomer sat in the bow, silent and alert, gazing constantly -ahead through his glasses. - -We had proceeded scarcely fifteen minutes when the doctor suddenly -ordered the launch stopped. Handing his binoculars to me and pointing -ahead beyond a sharp bend we were just rounding, he exclaimed excitedly: - -“_Look!_” - -I did so, and to my astonishment saw a great steamship lying at a wharf! - -Commander Mitchell now had brought his glasses into use, and a moment -later he leaped to his feet, exclaiming: - -“My God, men! _That’s the vanished Pacific liner Nippon!_” - -An instant more and I also had discerned the name, standing out in white -letters against the black stern. Soon I made a second discovery that -thrilled me with amazement: faint columns of smoke were rising from the -vessel’s funnels, as if she were manned by a crew and ready to sail! - -Dr. Gresham was the first to speak; his excitement now had left him, and -he was cool and commanding. - -“Let us get back to the _Albatross_,” he said, “as quickly as we can!” - -On board the destroyer, the doctor again cautioned Commander Mitchell -about keeping a sharp lookout and allowing no lights anywhere. - -Then the scientist and I hastened to our cabin, where Chinese suits of -gorgeous silk had been laid out for us; they were part of the quantity of -such garments my six tailors had been making. There were two outfits for -each—one of flaming orange, which we put on first, and one of dark blue, -which we slipped on over the other. Then one of the actors was summoned, -and he made up our faces so skillfully that it would have been difficult -to distinguish us from Chinamen. - -When the actor had left the room, the doctor handed me the revolvers I -had carried before, and also a long, villainous-looking knife. To these -he added a pair of field glasses. After similarly arming himself, he -announced: - -“I feel I must warn you, Arthur, that this trip may be the most perilous -of your whole life. All the chances are against our living to see -tomorrow’s sun, and if we die it is likely to be by the most fiendish -torture ever devised by human beings! Think well before you start!” - -I promptly assured him I was willing to go wherever he might lead. - -“But where,” I asked, “is that to be?” - -“We are going,” he answered, “into the hell-pits of the Seuen-H’sin!” - -And with that we entered the launch and put off into the coming darkness. - - -_CHAPTER VII._ - -THE MOON GOD’S TEMPLE - -It was not long before the launch again brought us within sight of the -mystery ship, the _Nippon_. - -Here we landed and had the seaman take the launch back to the destroyer. -With a final inspection of our revolvers and knives, we started forward -through the rocks and timber toward the vessel. - -It was the night of the full moon, but the satellite had not yet risen -above the mountains to the east, so we had only the soft gleam of the -stars to light us on our way. In spite of the northern latitude, it was -not uncomfortably cold, and soon we were spellbound by the gorgeous -panorama of the night. Above us, through the lattice-work of boughs, the -calm, cold stars moved majestically across the black immensity of space. -The dark was fragrant with the scent of pines. Strangely hushed and still -the universe appeared, as if in the silence world were whispering to -world. - -We could now feel the periodic earthquakes very plainly—as if we were -directly over the seat of the disturbances. - -In a few minutes we reached the edge of the clearing about the _Nippon’s_ -wharf. There were no buildings, so we had an unobstructed view of the -vessel, lying tied to the dock. Two or three lights shone faintly from -her portholes, but no one was visible about her. - -The wharf was at the entrance to a little side valley that ran off to -the southeast through a break in the precipitous wall of the fiord. From -this ravine poured a turbulent mountain stream which, I recalled from the -ship’s charts, was named Dean River. - -After a brief look around we discovered a wide, smooth roadway leading -from the wharf into the valley, paralleling the stream. Keeping a -cautious lookout, we began to follow this road, slipping along through -the timber at its side. - -In about five minutes we came to a coal mine on the slope beside -the highway. From the looks of its dump, it was being worked -constantly—probably furnishing the fuel to keep fire under the _Nippon’s_ -boilers. - -Fifteen more minutes passed in laborious climbing over rocks and fallen -timber, when all at once, after ascending a slight rise to another -level of the valley’s floor, we beheld the lights of a village a short -distance beyond! At once Dr. Gresham changed our course to take us up the -mountainside, whence we could look down upon the settlement. - -To my amazement, we saw a neatly laid out town of more than a hundred -houses, with electric-lighted streets. Although the houses seemed -to be built entirely of corrugated sheet iron—probably because a -more substantial type of construction would not have withstood the -earthquakes—there was about the place an indefinable Chinese atmosphere. - -My first shock of surprise at coming across this hidden city soon gave -way to wonder that the outside world knew nothing of such a place—that -it was not even indicated on the maps. But I recalled that on the land -side it was unapproachable because of lofty mountains, beyond which lay -an immense trackless wilderness; and on the water side it was a hundred -miles off even the navigation lanes to Alaska. - -Suddenly, as we stood there in the timber, a deep-toned bell began to -toll on the summit of the low mountain above us. - -“The Temple of the Moon God!” exclaimed Dr. Gresham. - -With the sounding of the bell, the village awakened into life. From -nearly every house came figures clad in flaming orange costumes, exactly -like the ones Dr. Gresham and myself wore beneath our outer suits. At the -end of the town these figures mingled and turned into a roadway, and a -few moments later we saw they were coming up the hill directly toward us! - -Not knowing which way they would pass, we crouched in the dark and waited. - -Still the weird, mellow tocsin sounded above us—slowly, mystically, -flooding the valley with somber, thrilling sound. - -All at once we heard the tramping of many feet, and then perceived with -alarm that the roadway up the mountainside passed not more than twenty -feet from where we lay! Along it the silent, strange procession was -mounting the slope! - -“The Seuen-H’sin,” whispered my companion, “on their way to the hellish -temple rites!” - -Scarcely breathing, we pressed flat upon the ground, fearful each instant -we might be discovered. For a period that seemed interminable the -brilliantly-clad figures continued to shuffle by—hundreds of them. But at -last there was an end of the marchers. - -Immediately Dr. Gresham rose and, motioning me to follow his example, -quickly slipped off his blue outer costume and rolled it into a small -bundle, which he tucked under his arm. I was ready an instant later. - -Creeping out to the road, we peered about to make certain no stragglers -were approaching; then we hurried after the ascending throng. It was only -a few moments until we overtook the rear ranks, whereupon we adopted -their gait and followed silently, apparently attracting no attention. - -The mountain was not very high, and at last we came out upon a spacious -level area at the top. It was moderately well illuminated by electric -lamps, and at the eastern end, near the edge of the eminence, we beheld -a stone temple into which the multitude was passing. Depositing our rolls -of outer clothing in a spot where we could easily find them again, we -moved forward. - -As we crossed the walled mountaintop, or temple courtyard it might be -called, I swiftly took in the strange surroundings. The temple was a -thing to marvel at. It was all of stone, with high, fantastically-carved -walls and an imposing facade of rounded columns. On either side of the -central structure were wings, or side halls, that ran off into the -darkness; and in front of these were walled courtyards with arched -gateways, roofed with golden-yellow tiles. The structure must have -required engineering skill of the highest order for its building, yet it -appeared old, incredibly old, as if the storms of centuries had beaten -upon it. - -Everywhere about the walls were cracks—doubtless the result of the -earthquakes—so numerous and pronounced that one wondered how the building -held together. - -Presently, as we advanced, I noticed an overturned and broken statue of -Buddha, the stone figure partly overgrown with moss and lichens. As I -studied this I recalled the bit of history Dr. Gresham had related to me -a couple of days before as we journeyed northward on the _Albatross_—of -the Chinese navigators, directed by Huei-Sen, a Buddhist monk, who had -come “somewhere to the north” in the year 499 A. D. And I wondered if -this was, indeed, the “Country of the Great Han” that was discovered by -these Orientals in the long ago—if this might be one of the temples which -Huei-Sen and his followers had built in the days a thousand years before -Columbus. - -I whispered these questions to the doctor. - -With an alarmed glance about us to make sure I had not been overheard, he -answered very low: - -“You have guessed it! But keep silent, as you value your life! Stay close -to me and do whatever the others do!” - -We were now at the entrance to the temple. Heavy yellow curtains covered -the portal, and within a gong droned slowly. - -Summoning courage, we pushed aside the draperies and entered. - -The place was large and dimly lighted. Low red seats ran crossways in -long rows. At the far end, against the east wall, was the altar, before -which were drawn deep yellow hangings. In front of these, under a hood -of golden gauze, burned a solitary light. There was a terror in this -mysterious dusk that gave me a strange thrill. - -The audience was standing, silent, with bowed heads, by the rows of -seats. Quaking inwardly, we took places in the last row, where the light -was dimmest. So perfectly were our costumes and make-up a match for those -around us that we attracted no attention. - -All at once the tempo of the gong’s droning changed, becoming slower and -more weird, and other gongs joined in at intervals. The illumination, -which appeared to come solely from the ceiling, brightened somewhat. - -Then a door opened on the right, about midway of the building, and there -appeared a being such as I never beheld before. He was tall and lean and -wore a robe of golden silk. Behind him came another—a priest in superb -violet; and behind him a third in flaming orange. They wore high helmets -with feathery plumes. - -In the hands of each priest were peculiar instruments—or images, if -so they might be called. Above a handle about two feet long, held -vertically, was a thin rod curved upward in a semi-circle, at each end of -which was a flat disk about a foot in diameter—one disk of silver, the -other of gold. As I scrutinized these emblems I wondered if they were -meant to symbolize the Seuen-H’sin’s belief in two moons. - -Slowly the priests advanced to a central aisle, then forward to an open -space, or hall of prayer, before the altar. - -Then a door opened on the left, opposite the first portal, and from it -issued a fourth priest in robes of richest purple, followed by another in -crimson, and still another in wondrous green. They, also, wore the high, -feathery helmets and carried the instruments with gold and silver disks. - -When the last three had joined the first trio, other portals opened -along the sides of the temple and half a dozen more priests entered and -strode forward. The brilliant colors of their frocks seemed a part of the -devilish gong-droning. In the dim vastness of the temple they moved on, -silent as ghosts. There was something singularly depressing in the slow, -noiseless steps. It was as if they were walking to their death. - -Still the procession grew in numbers. Hitherto unnoticed -portals gave entrance to more yellow, orange and violet-clad -priests—demoniacal-looking beings, with lean, cruel, thoughtful faces and -somber, dreaming eyes. - -At last the procession ended. There was a pause, after which the -audience standing among the rows of red seats burst into low murmurs of -supplication. Sometimes the voices rose into a considerable humming -sound; again they sank into a whisper. Suddenly the murmur of voices -ceased and there was a blare of unseen trumpets—a crashing vastness of -sound; harsh, unearthly, infernal, so that I shivered in horror. Nothing -could be seen of the terrible orchestra; its notes seemed to come from a -dark adjoining hall. - -Again there was a pause—a thrilling period in which even the droning -gongs were hushed; and then from an unseen portal came, slowly and alone, -a figure that all the rest seemed to have been waiting for. - -Leaning close to my ear, Dr. Gresham whispered: - -“_The high priest, Kwo-Sung-tao!_” - -With leaping interest, I turned to view the personage—and was held -spellbound by the amazing personality of this man who proposed to make -himself emperor of all the world. - -He was old, _old_; small, shrunken; a very mummy of a man; bald, and -with a long white mustache; enveloped in a shroud of cloth of gold, -embroidered with crimson dragons and dual gold and silver moons. But -never to my dying day can I forget that face, with its fearful eyes! All -the wisdom and power and wickedness of the world were blended there! - -Straight toward the altar the old man walked, looking neither to the -right nor the left; and when he had mounted the steps he paused before -the curtains and turned. As his blazing eyes swept the hall the entire -multitude seemed to shrink and shrivel. An awful, sepulchral silence fell -upon the crowd. The stillness hovered like a living thing. A thrill more -intense than I had ever felt came over me; it swept me on cold waves into -an ocean of strange, pulsing emotion. - -Then, abruptly, a hundred cymbals clashed, subdued drums rolled forth, -and the infernal trumpets that had heralded the entrance of the high -priest crashed out a demoniacal peal—a veritable anthem of damnation that -pierced me to the marrow. - -The sound died out. The lights, too, began to sink. For a few moments -not a word was spoken; there was the stillness of death, of the end of -things. Presently all the illumination was gone save the solitary hooded -light in front of the altar. - -From his place at the head of the steps the high priest, Kwo-Sung-tao, -made a gesture. Silently, and by unseen means, the deep yellow hangings -rolled away. - -There, to my amazement, the whole end of the temple was open, and we -could look off from the mountaintop across innumerable valleys to the -great range of peaks that walled the east. Out there the stars were -shining, and near the horizon the blue-green heavens were tinged with a -swimming silver mist. - -The altar itself, if such it might be called, was a single block of -undraped stone, about three feet high and four feet long, rising in the -center of the platform. - -Hardly had I taken in the scene before two of the priests hurried -forward, dragging between them a nearly-naked and half-swooning Chinaman. -Carrying him up the steps, they flung him on his back upon the altar -block and swiftly fastened his hands and feet to manacles on the sides of -the stone, so that his naked chest was centered upon the pedestal. The -priests then descended from the altar, leaving Kwo-Sung-tao alone beside -the prisoner. - -Still within the temple the profound silence reigned. There was not a -whisper, not a rustle of the silken vestments. - -But all at once we noticed that the eastern sky was growing brighter. - -Then from before the altar a single somber bass rolled forth in a wailing -prayer—a mystical, unearthly sound, coming in shattered sobs: - -“_Na-mo O-mi-t’o-fo! Na-mo O-mi-t’o-fo!_” - -Suddenly, from over the edge of the world, the moon began to rise! - -This was the signal for another hellish blast from the trumpets, followed -by the beginning of a steady humming of countless gongs. Other voices -joined the quivering bass, together growing louder—seeming to complain -and sob and wail like the voices of tortured demons in the abyss. - -The rhythmic sounds swelled louder and louder, higher and higher, until -the orb of night had climbed clear of the wall of mountains. - -Directly against the silver disk I now saw silhouetted the stone altar -holding its shrinking prisoner, with the high priest standing close -beside him. The priest’s right arm was upraised, and in his hand there -gleamed a knife. - -Still the music grew in volume—tremendous, stunning, a terrific battle of -sound. - -All at once the high priest’s knife flashed downward—straight and deep -into the breast of the quivering wretch upon the stone—and in a moment -his other hand was raised in salutation to the moon, and in it was -clutched the dripping heart of the human sacrifice! - -At the sight my limbs grew shaky and my senses swam. - -But at this instant, like a blow upon the head, came a lightning-crash -of cymbals, a smiting of great gongs, and a climacteric roar from those -agonizing trumpets of hell. Then even the single altar light went out, -plunging the great hall in darkness. - -Instantly I felt Dr. Gresham’s hand upon my arm, and, dazed and helpless, -I was dragged out of the temple. - -Outside the air released me from my stupor, and I raced beside the -scientist to the spot where we had left our outer garments. In the shadow -of the wall we slipped these on, and then fled panic-stricken down the -mountainside. - - -_CHAPTER VIII._ - -THE JAWS OF DEATH - -We did not pause in our flight from the temple until we reached the foot -of the mountain; then, still shaken by the horror of the scene we had -witnessed, we sat down to rest until the climbing moon should send its -light into the depths of the gorge. - -We could discern little of our surroundings, but close at hand we could -hear the river rushing between its rocky walls. - -Not a word was spoken until finally I inquired: “What next?” - -In a low voice that indicated the need of caution even here, Dr. Gresham -announced: - -“The real work of the night still is before us. I would not have taken -the risk of visiting the temple but for the hope that we would learn more -of the Seuen-H’sin’s layout than we did. Since nothing was gained there, -we must reconnoiter the country.” - -“That sacrifice of human life,” I asked—“what was its purpose?” - -“To propitiate their god,” the astronomer told me. “Every month, on the -night of the full moon—in every Seuen-H’sin temple in the world—that -hideous slaughter takes place. At certain times the ceremony is -elaborated into a thing infinitely more horrible.” - -At this juncture the moon lifted itself clear of the valley’s eastern -rim, and the depression was bathed in silvery radiance. This was the -signal for our start. - -Heading toward the sound of the river, we soon came to the road that led -to the _Nippon’s_ wharf. Beside this highway was an electric transmission -line, running on up into the canyon. Turning away from the wharf and the -village, we proceeded to follow this line toward its source. - -Instead of traversing the road, however, we kept in the shadows of the -timber at its side; and it was well that we did so, for we had not gone -far before a group of Chinamen appeared around a bend in the highway, -walking rapidly toward the town. They wore dark clothes of the same -pattern as our own outer garments; and they passed without seeing us. - -For fully two miles we followed the power line, until we began to pass -numerous groups of Chinamen in close succession—like crowds of men -getting off work. - -To diminish the chance of our being discovered, Dr. Gresham and I turned -up the mountainside. We climbed until we had reached a considerable -height above the floor of the gorge, and then, keeping at this elevation, -we again pursued the course of the electric line. - -Another half hour passed in this scramble along the steep slope, and my -companion began to betray uneasiness lest the road and its paralleling -copper wires which we could not see from here, had ended or had turned -off up some tributary ravine—when suddenly there came to our ears a -faint roaring, as of a distant waterfall. At once Dr. Gresham was all -alertness, and with quickened steps we pressed forward in the direction -of the sound. - -Five minutes later, as we rounded a shoulder of the mountain, we were -stricken suddenly speechless by the sight, far below us, of a great -brilliantly-lighted building! - -For a few moments we could only stand and gaze at the thing; but -presently, as the timber about us partially obstructed our view, we moved -forward to a barren rocky promontory jutting out from the mountainside. - -The moon now was well up in the heavens, and from the brow of this -headland a vast expanse of country was visible—its every feature standing -out, almost as clearly as in the daylight. But, to take advantage of this -view, we were obliged to expose ourselves to discovery by any spies the -Seuen-H’sin might have posted in the region. The danger was considerable, -but our curiosity regarding the lighted building was sufficient to -outweight our caution. - -The structure was too far distant to reveal much to the naked eye, so we -quickly brought our field glasses into use: then we saw that the building -was directly upon the bank of the river, and that from its lower wall -spouted a number of large, foaming streams of water, as if discharged -under terrific pressure. From these torrents, presumably, came the sound -of the waterfall. The angle at which we were looking down upon the place -prevented our seeing inside the building except at one corner, where, -through a window, we could catch a glimpse of machinery running. - -But, little as we could see, it was enough to convince me that the place -was a hydro-electric plant of enormous proportions, producing energy to -the extent of probably hundreds of thousands of horsepower. - -Even as I was reaching this conclusion, Dr. Gresham spoke: - -“There,” he said, “is the source of the Seuen-H’sin’s power, which is -causing all these upheavals throughout the world! That is where the -yellow devils are at work upon their second moon!” - -Just as he spoke another of the great ground shocks rocked the earth. Too -amazed for comment, I stood staring at the plant until my companion added: - -“There is where those brilliant flashes in the heavens came from last -night. They were due to some accident in the machinery, causing a short -circuit. For two nights I had been circling over this entire range of -mountains in the hydroplane, in search of the sorcerers’ workshop. The -flashes were a fortunate circumstance that led me to the place.” - -“At last I understand,” I remarked presently, “why you were so deeply -interested, back there in Washington, in the Steamship _Nippon_ and the -electric plant she was transporting to Hong-kong. I suppose that is where -the sorcerers obtained all this machinery!” - -“Precisely!” agreed the astronomer. “That morning in Washington, when -I got you to look up the inventory of the _Nippon’s_ cargo, I had this -solution of the mystery in mind. I knew from my years in Wu-yang that -electricity was the force the sorcerers would employ, and I was certain I -had seen mention in the newspapers of some exceptionally large electrical -equipment aboard the _Nippon_. Those supposed pirates of the Yellow Sea -were in reality the murderous hordes of the Seuen-H’sin, who had come out -to the coast after this outfit.” - -“But why,” I asked, “should these Chinamen, whose development of science -is so far in advance of our own, have to get machinery from an inferior -people? I should think their own appliances would have made anything from -the rest of the world seem antiquated.” - -“You forget what I told you that first night we spoke of the Seuen-H’sin. -Their discoveries never were backed up by manufacturing; they possessed -no raw materials or factories or industrial instincts. They did not need -to make machinery themselves. In spite of their tremendous isolation, -they were watching everything in the outside world. They knew they could -get plenty of machinery ready made—once they had perfected their method -of operations.” - -I was still staring at the monster power plant below us when Dr. Gresham -announced: - -“I know now that my theory of the earthquakes’ origin was correct, and if -we get safely back to the _Albatross_ the defeat of the sorcerers’ plans -is assured.” - -“Tell me one thing more,” I put in. “Why did the Chinamen come so far -from their own country to establish their plant?” - -“Because,” the doctor replied, “this place was so hidden—yet so easy to -reach. And the further they came from their own country to apply their -electric impulses to the earth, the less danger their native land would -run.” - -“Still, for my part, the main point of the whole problem remains -unsolved,” I asserted. “How do the sorcerers use this electricity to -shake the world?” - -“That,” replied the scientist, “requires too long an explanation for -the present moment. On the way back to the ship I will tell you the -whole thing. But now I must get a closer view of Kwo-Sung-tao’s strange -workshop.” - -As Dr. Gresham was speaking, some unexplained feeling of -uneasiness—perhaps some faint sound that had registered itself upon my -subconscious thoughts without my ears being aware of it—led my gaze to -wander over the mountainside in our vicinity. As my eyes rested for -a moment upon some rocks about a hundred yards away, I fancied I saw -something stir at the side of them. - -At this moment Dr. Gresham made a move to leave the promontory. Laying a -detaining hand swiftly upon his arm, I whispered: - -“_Wait! Stand still!_” - -Unquestioningly the astronomer obeyed; and for a couple of minutes I -watched the neighboring clump of rocks out of the corner of my eye. -Presently I saw a darkly-clad figure crawl out of the shadow of the -pile, cross a patch of moonlight, and join two other figures at the edge -of the timber. The trio stood looking in our direction a moment, while -apparently holding a whispered conference. Then all three disappeared -into the shadow of the woods. - -Immediately I announced to my companion: - -“We have been discovered! There are three Chinamen watching us from the -timber, not a hundred yards away!” - -The scientist was silent a moment. Then: - -“Do they know you saw them?” he asked. - -“I think not,” I replied. - -Still without looking around, he asked: - -“Where are they—directly behind us?” - -“No; well to the side—the side nearest the power plant.” - -“Good! Then we’ll move back toward the timber at once—go leisurely, as if -we suspected nothing. If we reach the cover of the woods all right, we’ll -make a dash for it. Head straight up for the top of the ridge—cross over -and descend into the gulch on the other side—then detour back toward the -_Albatross_. Stick to the shadows—travel as fast as we can—and try to -throw off pursuit!” - -Moving off as unconsciously as if we were totally unaware that we had -been observed, we struck out for the timber—all the time keeping a sharp -lookout, for we half expected the spies to head us off and attempt a -surprise attack. But we reached the darkness of the woods without even a -glimpse of the Celestials; and instantly we broke into a run. - -The ascent was too steep to permit much speed; moreover, the roughness -of the ground and the down-timber hampered us greatly—yet we had the -consolation of knowing that it equally hampered our pursuers. - -For nearly an hour we pressed on. The mountaintop was crossed, and we -descended into a canyon on the other side. No sight or sound of the -Chinamen had greeted us. Could they have surmised the course we would -take, and calmly let us proceed, while they returned for reinforcements -to head us off? Or were they silently stalking us to find out who we were -and whence we came? We could not tell. And there was the other chance, -too, that we had shaken off pursuit. - -Gradually this latter possibility became a definite hope, which grew as -our overtaxed strength began to fail. Nevertheless, we pushed on until we -were so spent and winded that we could scarcely drag one foot after the -other. - -We had now reached a spot where the floor of the canyon widened out into -a tiny level park. Here the timber was so dense that we were swallowed up -in almost complete darkness; and in this protecting mantle of shadow we -decided to stop for a brief rest. Stretching out upon the ground, with -our arms extended at our sides, we lay silent, inhaling deep breaths of -the cool, refreshing mountain air. - -We were now on the opposite side of a long and high mountain ridge from -the Chinese village, and, as nearly as we could estimate, not more than a -mile or two from the _Albatross_. - -Lying there on the ground, we could feel the earthquakes with startling -violence. We noticed that they no longer occurred only at intervals of -eleven minutes and a fraction—although they were particularly severe at -those periods—but that they kept up an almost continuous quivering, as if -the globe’s internal forces were bubbling restlessly. - -Suddenly, in the wake of one of the heavier shocks of the eleven-minute -period, the intense stillness was broken by a sharp report, followed by -a ripping sound from the bowels of the earth, that seemed to start close -at hand and rush off into the distance, quickly dying out. From the -mountainside above us came the crash of a falling tree and the clatter of -a few dislodged rocks bounding down the slope. The earth swayed as if a -giant gash had opened and closed within a few rods of us. - -The occurrence made Dr. Gresham and myself sit up instantly. Nothing, -however, was visible through the forest gloom of any changes in the -landscape. Again silence settled about us. - -Several minutes passed. - -Then abruptly, from a short distance away, came the sound of something -stirring. Sitting motionless, alert, we listened. Almost immediately we -heard it again, and this time the sound did not die out. Something off -there in the timber was moving stealthily toward us! - -Dropping back at full length upon the ground, with only our heads raised, -we kept a sharp watch. - -Only a few more moments were we kept in suspense; then, across a slit -of moonlight, we saw five Chinamen swiftly moving. They were slinking -along almost noiselessly, as if following a scent—and, with a shock, we -realized that it was ourselves they were tracking! We had not shaken off -our pursuers, after all! - -Even before we could decide, in a whispered debate, what our next move -should be, our nerves again were whipped taut by other sounds close at -hand—but now on the opposite side of the little valley from the first -ones. This time the sounds grew fainter—only to become louder again -almost immediately, as if the intruders were searching back and forth -across the flat. In a short while it became plain that they were drawing -closer to us. - -“What fools we were to stop to rest!” the astronomer complained. - -“I have a hunch we would have run into some of those spies if we had -kept on,” I rejoined. “They must have headed us off and found that we -didn’t pass on down this canyon, else they wouldn’t be searching here so -thoroughly.” - -“Right!” my friend agreed. “And now they’ve got us in a tight place!” - -“Suppose,” I suggested, “we slip across the valley and climb part way -up that other mountainside—then try to work along through the timber up -there until we’re near the ship?” - -“Good!” he assented. “Come on!” - -Lying at full length upon the ground and wriggling along like snakes, we -headed between two groups of the searchers. It was slow work, but we did -not dare even to rise to our knees to crawl. Twice we dimly made out, not -fifty feet away, some of the Chinamen slinking along, apparently hunting -over every foot of the region. We could not tell how many of them there -were now. - -After a time that seemed nearly endless we reached the edge of the flat. -Here we rose to our feet to tackle the slope in front of us. - -As we did so, two figures leaped out of the gloom close at hand and split -the night with cries of “_Fan kuei! Fan kuei!_” (“Foreign devils!”) - -Then they sprang to seize us. - -Further concealment being impossible, we darted back into the valley, no -longer avoiding the patches of moonlight, but rather seeking them, so we -could see where we were going. We were heading for the fiord. - -In a few seconds other cries arose on all sides of us. It seemed we were -surrounded and that the whole region swarmed with Chinamen. Dark forms -began to plunge out of the woods ahead to intercept us; the leading ones -were not sixty feet away. - -“We’ll have to fight for it!” called Dr. Gresham. And our hands flew to -our revolvers. - -But before we could draw the weapons a great ripping and crashing sound -burst forth upon the mountainside above us—the terrifying noise of rocks -splitting and grinding—an appalling turmoil! Terrified, pursued and -pursuers alike paused to glance upward. - -There, in the brilliant moonlight, we saw a monster avalanche sweeping -downward, engulfing everything in its way! - -Abandoning the astronomer and myself, the Chinamen turned to flee further -from the path of the landslide—and we all began running together down the -valley. - -Only a few steps had we gone, however, when above the roaring of the -avalanche a new sound rang out—short, sharp, booming, like the report of -a giant gun. - -As I glanced about through the blotches of moonlight and shadow, I saw -several of the sorcerers just ahead suddenly halt, stagger and then drop -from sight. - -Dr. Gresham and I stopped instantly, but not before we beheld other -Chinamen disappearing from view. - -_The earth had opened and they were falling in!_ - -Even as we stood there, hesitating, the black maw yawned wider—to our -very feet—and with cries of horror we tried to stagger back. But we -were too late. The sides of the crack were crumbling in, and in another -instant the widening gash overtook us. - -As his eyes met mine, I saw the astronomer topple backward and disappear. - -A second later the ground gave way beneath my own feet and I was plunged -into the blackness of the pit. - -_This extraordinary novel will be concluded in the June issue of WEIRD -TALES._ - -_Tell your newsdealer to reserve a copy for you._ - - - - -THE SECRET FEAR - -_A “Creepy” Detective Story_ - -By KENNETH DUANE WHIPPLE - - -The night was hot and breathless, as had been the day, and the humid -_tang_ of the salt air smote my nostrils as, envying Martin his vacation -respite from the grind of police reporting, I turned off the broad, paved -thoroughfare of Washington Avenue and started down Wharf Street, narrow -and dimly lighted, toward my lodgings beyond the bridge. - -As I passed the second dirty-globed street light I halted suddenly, with -the staccato sound of hurrying footsteps in my ears. Homeward bound from -the Journal office, where Martin’s work had kept me until after midnight, -I had yielded to the temptation offered by the short cut. Now, with the -peculiar emphatic insistence of the footfalls behind me, I began to -wonder if I had chosen wisely. - -Brass buttons, glinting dully under the corner arc, reassured me. The -next instant I was roughly ordered to halt. I recognized the hoarse, -panting voice of Patrolman Tom Kenton of the fourth precinct, whose beat, -as I knew, lay along the wharves. - -“It’s me, Kenton—Jack Bowers, of the _Journal_,” I said. “What’s doing?” - -Kenton peered at me keenly in the bad light. Then his face relaxed. - -“Man killed in Kellogg’s warehouse, just around the corner there,” he -replied. - -“Killed? How?” - -“The sergeant didn’t say. I got it from him just now when I reported. -Someone ’phoned in a minute ago. Come along and see, if you want. It’s -right in your line, and you’re a good friend of the captain’s.” - -I fell into step with him, finding some difficulty in keeping pace. - -“Do you know who ’phoned?” I asked. - -“No. May be a joke. May be a frame-up. May be anything.” - -His deep voice rumbled through the gloom of the dingy street, deserted -save for our hurrying figures. We crossed to the opposite side, passing -beneath a blue arc which flamed and sputtered naked through a jagged gash -in its dirty, frosted globe. - -Just around the corner loomed the ramshackle bulk of Kellogg’s warehouse, -a four-story, wooden structure squatting above the river piers. On the -ground floor a broad entrance gaped blackly. At the left of the doorway, -about three feet above street level, the end of a loading platform jutted -out of the darkness. - -Beyond the warehouse a narrow pier ran out toward midstream. I caught a -glimpse of the riding lights of some small vessel, dimly outlined against -the gray-black of the oily water. - -Kenton stopped at the corner of the warehouse to draw his revolver, -motioning me to remain where I was. - -“Stay here,” he said under his breath. “I’ll take a look. If it’s a -frame-up there’s no need to get anyone else into it. Besides, you’d be -more help here.” - -He squared his broad shoulders and was swallowed up by the oblong of -black. It did not require much urging to persuade me to stay outside. -Timidly I peeped through a crack in the warped boarding. The dim ray -of light which Kenton cast before him seemed only to accentuate the -obscurity. - -The light became stationary. I could distinguish Kenton bending over -something on the dirt floor not fifteen feet inside the entrance. He -looked up and spoke softly. - -“Come ahead, Mr. Bowers,” he said. “No joke about this.” - -There was a grim edge to his tone. With a shiver, I stepped through the -doorway and crossed to where he crouched above a motionless shape huddled -against the side of the long loading platform. - -The body was that of a man of large stature—more than six feet in height, -as nearly as I could judge from the cramped position in which he lay. -There were no visible marks of violence, except for a frayed linen collar -pulled awry, which dangled by a single buttonhole from the shirt about -the powerful, corded neck. But as I bent closer to look at the features, -I drew back with a gasp. - -The face of the dead man was distorted by an expression of the utmost -horror and loathing. Around the dilated pupils of his large, bluish-gray -eyes, the ghastly whites showed in a pallid rim of fear. His irregular, -reddish features, even in death, seemed fairly to writhe with terror. One -long, sinewy arm was thrown up across the lower part of his face, as if -to ward off some unseen and terrible menace. - -Shuddering, I stared across the body at Kenton’s homely, impassive face. - -“In heaven’s name, what happened to him?” I asked. - -Kenton’s hands had been moving swiftly over the body. Now he spread them -apart in a little puzzled gesture. - -“There doesn’t seem to be any wound,” he said. “See if there isn’t a -switch around somewhere, Mr. Bowers. There ought to be a way of lighting -up here.” - -I fumbled along the wall until my fingers encountered the round porcelain -knob. A single grimy bulb, pendant from a cobwebbed rafter, threw a dim -circle of grewsome yellow light upon the floor of the warehouse. - -The body had lain on its left side, facing the doorway. Kenton -methodically turned the corpse upon its face, his searching fingers -exploring the back. To me, at least, it was a relief that the staring, -terrified eyes were hidden from view, rather than gazing fearfully -through the arch of the doorway into the narrow, empty street beyond. - -“There’s something queer about this,” said Kenton. “No wound at all, Mr. -Bowers, that I can find. No blood—not even a bruise, only this mark at -the throat.” - -I had not seen the mark before, and even now I had to look closely to -find it. It was scarcely more than a discoloration of the skin in a broad -band beneath the chin. But there was no abrasion, much less a wound -sufficient to cause the death of a powerful man like the one who lay -before us. - -With a shrug of his shoulders, Kenton rolled the body back to its -original position. At once the ghastly eyes renewed their unwinking stare -at the empty street. - - * * * * * - -A sound from the doorway caused us both to turn. Only Kenton himself can -say what his imagination pictured there. For my part, I owned a feeling -of distinct relief at sight of nothing more startling than a pair of -ragged-looking men peering in at the open door. - -As we looked, a third derelict of the wharves joined them, pressing -inquisitively forward toward the body on the floor. - -“Whassa trouble here?” asked one, curiously. “Somebody croak a guy?” - -“Yes,” said Kenton tersely. “Know him, any of you?” - -His companion, who had been staring at the body, suddenly spoke in a -startled tone: - -“By gorry, it’s Terence McFadden! I’d never have known the boy with that -look on his face, except for the scar over his right eye. Look, Jim! -Sure, and he looks as if the divil was after him!” - -A confirmatory murmur came from the others. The grind of a street car’s -wheels on the curve of Washington Avenue cut clearly across the low -lapping of the waves against the rotting piles outside the warehouse. -The humid air, impregnated with the foul odors of the waterfront, was -stifling. - -The three men huddled closer, with fearful glances over their shoulders, -as if striving to glimpse that which the eyes of the dead man watched. -Kenton alone seemed unaffected by the tension. - -“Know where he lives?” - -“Over on Twenty-fourth Street,” volunteered the third man. “But he’d -been on the Tiger yonder this evening. I saw him go aboard. Why not call -Captain Dolan? Him and Terry was pals.” - -“What’s his name?” - -“Dolan—Captain Ira Dolan.” - -“Go and get him,” ordered Kenton, removing his cap and mopping his -forehead. - -The man, not unwillingly, passed out of the circle of light. We heard his -footsteps on the planking of the pier, and his hail to the ship anchored -there. - -Kenton turned to me, a worried look on his face. - -“Would you mind going down to Patton’s place on the corner and ’phoning -in, Mr. Bowers?” he asked. “I wouldn’t ask it, but the captain knows you -well. Tell him I’m staying with the body. And ask him to have Doctor -Potts come, if he’s there. I’d like to get to the bottom of this.” - -I was only too glad to get out of the warehouse, for the eerie atmosphere -was beginning to get on my nerves. When I returned, two of the somnolent -loafers from Patton’s greasy lunch room, roused by my telephone message -to Captain Watters of the fourth precinct, followed in my wake, muttering -and rubbing their bleared eyes. - -Less than ten minutes had passed since we had found the dead man in -Kellogg’s old warehouse. Yet now a dozen frowsy wharf-rats fringed the -doorway, brought thither by some mysterious telepathic message borne on -the murky night air. - -“Be here in ten minutes,” I said, nodding to Kenton. - -Suddenly a man made his way through the crowd and hastened toward us. -His rugged, weather-beaten face took deeper lines from the dim light -overhead, its high lights gleaming in the ghastly radiance like pieces -of yellowed parchment. Yet there was power in the piercing blue eye, and -strength in every line of the tall, gaunt figure, now stooping suddenly -over the body of the dead man. - -“Terence!” he cried, his voice harsh with grief. “Terence, lad!” - -Kenton bent over and touched him on the shoulder. - -“Are you Captain Dolan?” he asked. - -The old man looked up, one hand still resting upon the motionless body -beside which he knelt. - -“I am,” he said simply. - -“I understand this man—Terence McFadden, his name is?—” - -Captain Dolan nodded. - -“I understand he was on board your ship tonight?” - -“Yes,” said Captain Dolan, rising to his feet. - -“What time did he leave?” - -“’Twas not more than half an hour ago, officer. Shortly after midnight, -I would say. He was just aboard for a little farewell banquet, -y’understand—just a friendly visit, eating and drinking and the like, -before I leave at daybreak for another trip. I’m going down the coast.” - -Kenton shook his head. - -“Never mind that. Have you any idea how he met his death? Had he any -enemies that you know?” - -Captain Dolan ran his bony fingers through his grizzled locks, his eyes -still on the body of his friend. - -“Enemies he had aplenty, officer, like any two-fisted man with the -disposition of Terence McFadden. ’Twas only last week he cleaned up two -of the Jerry Kramer gang that tried to hold him up with a pistol down -on this very street. But his worry tonight had nothing to do with them. -A man like Terence could take care of himself against any man. Truth to -tell, he was his own worst enemy.” - -Kenton broke in sharply. - -“What’s that? He was worried tonight, you say?” - -There seemed to be a trace of evasion in Captain Dolan’s manner. - -“It was a piece he read in the paper. It fair spoiled his supper for him.” - -“What was it about?” - -“It was an item from the Zoo,” replied Captain Dolan. - -Kenton fingered a button puzzledly, casting a mystified glance at me. It -was evident that his inquiries were not getting him anywhere. - -Before he could question Captain Dolan further, the group about the -doorway behind us was thrust roughly aside, and Patrolman Corcoran, the -new officer from the adjacent beat, shouldered his way in. His right -hand was twisted in the lapels of a short, squat foreigner with a -swarthy face half hidden by a coarse, reddish-brown beard. The neck of -his sweat-soaked undershirt was open, and his sleeves were rolled above -hairy, muscular forearms. - -Corcoran stared at the group about the lifeless body of Terence McFadden. - -“So it’s true, is it?” he curiously asked. “I thought ‘Big Jim’ here was -trying to give me a wrong steer.” - -“Who?” asked Kenton. - -“Dobrowski, or some such name—‘Big Jim,’ they call him. He’s one of the -Kramer gang, they say.” - -“Where’d you get him?” - -“Caught him coming out of a basement over on Efton Street. He took one -look at me and ran like hell. So I rounded him up and asked him what was -the big idea of running. He just looked dumb, but I knew he’d been up to -something. So I frisked him, and found—these!” - -He pulled a watch and purse from the side pocket of his coat. Captain -Dolan leaned forward eagerly. - -“Terence’s!” he cried. “See if his initials are not in the back!” - -He fairly snatched the watch from Corcoran’s hand. The younger patrolman -turned to Kenton. - -“Who’s the old bird, anyway?” he asked in an undertone. - -Kenton established the captain’s connection with the affair in a few -words. In the meantime the old man had pried open the gold case with his -heavy thumbnail and was squinting inside. - -“See!” he affirmed, pointing to the initials “_T. J. M._” engraved there. - -Corcoran nodded carelessly. - -“‘Big Jim,’ all right,” he said decisively. “He’s the man that killed -McFadden here.” - -“Big Jim” stared at his captor, chewing vigorously. - -“No kill!” he exclaimed. “No kill!” - -Kenton had been frowning perplexedly. Now he turned to Corcoran. - -“Say, Bill,” he demanded, “how did you get over here, anyhow? Who told -you there’d been a man killed?” - -To our utter amazement, Corcoran jerked his thumb toward “Big Jim.” - -“He did,” he said. - -“_He_ did?” repeated Kenton incredulously. “Then you were the one that -’phoned in to the sergeant?” - -Corcoran nodded, taking a tighter grip on the captive’s lapels. - -“I was going to call the wagon and go straight in with ‘Big Jim’ here. -Then he told such a funny story that I thought maybe he was trying to -string me, so I marched him over here to make sure.” - -Kenton shook his head. - -“That was no way to go,” he muttered under his breath. “Well, no matter. -What does he say?” - -“Says he took this stuff away from McFadden, but didn’t kill him,” -sneered Corcoran. “Doesn’t know who killed him, but he didn’t. Fishy? -Well, I’ll tell the world!” - -Captain Dolan again bent over the body of Terence McFadden. Then he -looked up at “Big Jim.” - -“Tell us what happened,” he commanded. - -Words popped turbulently from “Big Jim.” Either he was actually telling -the truth, or he had committed his story to heart. - -“No Kill!” he vociferated, gesticulating. “No kill! Take watch, but no -kill! Hide for man—pull him in—fight—he dead! Take money—run—hide—” - -Fear shone in his shifting eyes and on his swarthy, perspiring face. As -he glanced nervously about the building, the fantastic idea occurred to -me that his fear was less of the police than of some unseen, intangible -force beyond his comprehension. I caught myself looking apprehensively -over my own shoulder. - -Corcoran spat on the floor disgustedly. - -“Part of that yarn’s all right,” he said. “That part about his stealing -the watch and all, I mean. The rest is all bull. How would he get the -stuff off a big guy like that without croaking him? How did he kill him, -anyway?” - -Captain Dolan leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. - -“Yes, officer,” he repeated. “How did he kill him? Tell us that if you -can.” - -Corcoran thrust his captive toward Kenton and knelt beside the body. When -he looked up, his face was blank. Rising he turned savagely on “Big Jim.” - -“Come, now!” he ordered roughly, shaking the foreigner by the shoulder. -“How did you kill him? Speak up!” - -“No kill!” repeated “Big Jim” stubbornly. “No kill!” - -Corcoran raised his club menacingly. Whether he would have struck “Big -Jim,” or merely wished to intimidate him, I do not know; he had not been -long on the force, and he felt his authority keenly. But Captain Dolan -stepped forward, holding out an imperative hand. - -“One moment, officer!” he said sternly. - - * * * * * - -For a breathless instant the tableau held. Then Corcoran, closing his -amazed mouth, thrust his flushed face close to Captain Dolan’s. - -“What business have you got butting in on this, anyway?” he shouted. -“Who told you to give orders? You seem to have been a friend of this -fellow’s, by what Tom here says. But how do we know you didn’t have a -grudge against him and doped him tonight aboard your boat? How do we know -you didn’t give him wood alcohol or something to drink that put him down -and out? You’d better just keep quiet and stick around here till the doc -takes a look at him.” - -Captain Dolan’s wrinkled, parchment-like face turned an angry red, and -his bony hands clenched. Then, suddenly, he relaxed, uttering a short, -mirthless laugh. - -“In remaining here, as you request,” he replied, “’tis my idea to see -justice done. Little love as Terence had for Jerry Kramer and his gang, -he would wish fair play, even for ‘Big Jim’ there. And for that reason -I’ll be asking your kind indulgence while I tell you a little of Terence -McFadden.” - -Corcoran glared at the old man. Kenton shrugged his shoulders. - -“Go ahead,” he said. “We’ve got to wait for the car.” - -Captain Dolan stood erect beneath the grimy electric bulb, which cast -a brassy gleam upon his grizzled locks. At his left stood Corcoran, -scowling, one hand gripping his subdued prisoner. Beyond him Kenton -leaned against the loading platform. I watched them from the shadows. - -“Every man of us has his secret fear,” began Captain Dolan abruptly, and -a trifle oratorically. “With one it’s the open sea. With another it’s a -horror of great heights. But we all have it. As for Terence McFadden, it -took no more than a little, long-tailed, hand-organ monkey to set him -a-shivering. - -“And they seemed to know it, too, the grinning devils. No sooner would -he pass a Dago organ-grinder on the corner than the little red-capped -ape would let out a chatter and make a rush for Terence. And would you -believe me, the man would actually turn pale. - -“‘Come away, Ira,’ he’d say, clutching at me, ‘come away, Ira. Sure, and -he’ll be looking for a bite from the leg of ye.’ - -“I mind me of a day when we went to the Zoo, Terence and I. ‘’Tis -understood,’ says he, when we reached the gates, ‘that we make no visit -to the monkey house.’ - -“But I give him the laugh, with hints about his courage, d’ye mind, till -at last he sets his teeth determined-like. - -“‘No man shall say Terence McFadden is a coward,’ says he. ‘Let us go in.’ - -“The minute we enter the room, the place is in an uproar. The little -yellow-haired monkeys are hanging by their tails and chattering, and even -the big apes down in the corner are roaring like devils let loose. ’Tis -no use for me to point out to Terence that the hour for feeding is at -hand. He will have none of it. - -“‘The beasts know me,’ he mutters between chattering teeth. ‘’Tis my -blood they would be having.’ - -“‘For why would they be having your blood?’ I asks. - -“‘I know not the why of it,’ says he, shaking in every limb, ‘but ’tis -so.’ - -“‘Rubbish!’ says I, for I wished to rid him of this foolish fear of his. -‘Walk with me to this cage, and look the big chap in the eye. There’s no -harm he can be doing to you, and him safe behind the bars!’ - -“Terence was fair sweating with fear, but he grits his teeth, and arm in -arm we walk over to the cage. The big tawny fellow—the ugly-faced one by -the far door—sits there humped up in his corner, glowering at us with -eyes like coals. - -“‘Look, man,’ says I, ‘and give over your foolishness. Why, even in the -open ye’d be a match for him.’ - -“No sooner are the words out of my mouth than the beast makes one jump -from his corner and lands half way up the bars at the front of the cage, -with a roar that would blast the very soul of ye. I own I was startled, -little as I fear monkeys and their likes. - -“But poor Terence gives a sort of gasp and leans against me, actually -paralyzed with fear. His eyes are set in a glassy stare, like a dead -man’s. And I swear to you that after I got him outside, it was half an -hour before the color came back to his cheeks and his knees gave over -their quivering. - -“‘Did ye see the horrible face of him?’ he gasps. ‘And the long arms -reachin’ for me throat?’ - -“And then he’d fall to trembling again.” - - * * * * * - -Captain Dolan paused as abruptly as he had begun. So vividly had he told -his story that he had been for the moment transported bodily to the -monkey house at the Zoo. Now, in the sudden silence, we moved uneasily, -glancing at one another. - -Corcoran scratched his head in a puzzled manner. - -“What’s all this got to do with finding the murderer?” he burst out. - -Captain Dolan shook his head. - -“There is no murderer,” he said. - -We all looked startled, I imagine. Kenton would have spoken, but Captain -Dolan motioned him to silence. Even Corcoran, for once, found himself -without words. - -“I spoke of an item in the paper tonight,” continued Captain Dolan. -“Doubtless ’twas seen by all of you. Did you not read that one of the -gorillas at the Zoo had escaped from its cage and was at large in the -city?” - -In the breathless silence which ensued I felt a peculiar thrill of terror -pass up my spine. Kenton was fingering the holster of his revolver -with nervous, clumsy motions. In some uncanny manner the gaunt old -sea-captain’s grim words of doubtful import had woven about us all a web -of superstitious fear in which we vainly struggled, unable to grasp the -saving clew. - -“’Twas that item which spoiled his supper for Terence, when he read it -aboard the ship tonight. And no use I found it to reason with him. To his -mind the grinning face of the big ape was peeping in at every porthole!” - -Suddenly Corcoran whirled, peering into the blackness at the far end -of the warehouse, where something stirred softly. Kenton drew his -pistol. I felt the goose-flesh rising along my arms. Only the dead man, -undisturbed, stared unwinkingly in the opposite direction. - -The next moment a stray cat wandered leisurely into the circle of light -and sat herself down to wash her dusty fur, blinking complacently up at -our pallid faces. I wiped the cold drops from my forehead and breathed a -deep sigh. - -Corcoran turned almost pleadingly to Captain Dolan. - -“The gorilla—” he said. “Was it the gorilla from the Zoo that killed -Terence McFadden?” - -Captain Dolan shook his head. - -“I would not say that,” he answered. - -I stared at the parchment-like face in amazement. Like Corcoran, I had -jumped to this conclusion. Kenton drew his hand across his forehead in -perplexity. - -“But you said there was no murder!” cried Corcoran. “Was it ‘Big Jim’ -that killed him, after all?” - -“I would not say that,” repeated Captain Dolan. - -Corcoran looked at the old man dazedly. Then he spoke very softly and -soothingly, as one might interrogate a backward child: - -“Then tell me, Captain Dolan,” he said. “How did Terence McFadden die?” - -“He was murdered,” replied Captain Dolan. - -Corcoran stared. - -“Murdered? But you said there was no murderer!” - -“Nor was there,” said the captain. - -Corcoran dropped his hands helplessly. Kenton took up the interrogation. - -“Did he kill himself?” he demanded. “Was it suicide?” - -“I would not say that,” repeated Captain Dolan for the third time. - -But Kenton was not to be baffled. - -“With what weapon was the man killed?” he asked doggedly. - -Captain Dolan gazed at the contorted face of the man at his feet. - -“With one of the oldest weapons in the world,” he answered. “A weapon -which has caused the death of many a brave man—aye, braver and more -powerful than Terence here.” - -The waves lapped saltily against the rotting piles at the far end of the -warehouse. In the darkness a rat squeaked, and the cat, interrupting its -toilet, darted out of the circle of light and vanished. In the darkness -was heard the sound of a speeding motor. - -Captain Dolan raised his eyes from the corpse of his friend, and his -voice was very soft and compassionate: - -“Did I not say that Terence was his own worst enemy? Had it not been for -that foolish bewitchment of his—” - -He turned and pointed suddenly toward “Big Jim,” standing stupidly there -in the shadows. It seemed almost that the eyes of the dead man, following -the direction of his extended arm, were staring at the bestial, repulsive -features of the prisoner with sentient terror. - -“Look at the hairy arms of him!” he cried. “Look at the long, shaggy -beard! When he stood on the platform yonder by the door and crooked his -elbow about the throat of Terence, do you think the poor lad knew of -the pistol stuck in his back, or the words of warning jabbered in some -haythin lingo? To the mind of Terence ’twas nothing less than the coming -true of all his nightmares! Small wonder that his eyes are bursting from -their sockets as he lies there with the grip of terror stopping the -valves of his heart and curdling the very blood in his veins!” - -“Then the name of the weapon—” - -“It is called Fear,” said Captain Dolan. - -The throbbing motor sounded at the end of the street. With a _squeal_ of -brakes, the police car halted outside. Doctor Potts pushed through the -crowd and bent briefly over the body. - -“Heart failure,” he said. - - - - -_Whether or Not You Believe in Reincarnation, You Will Be Thrilled By -Reading_ - -JUNGLE BEASTS - -_A Complete Novelette_ - -_By_ WILLIAM P. BARRON - - -“Look!” said the nurse to the young interne on the second floor of Dr. -Winslow’s sanatorium. “See what I found in the table drawers of 112—the -patient who was discharged last evening. Do you suppose this horrible -story can be true?” - -The interne took the manuscript with a blase air. He had read so many of -these ravings on paper! - -“This one is really unusual,” said the nurse, noticing his manner. -“Please read it.” - -Mildly interested, the interne began to read: - - -THE STORY OF A VAMPIRE - -Why am I here in this place of madness, this house of diseased minds? -Because of a cat! - -And it is a cat that takes me away from this place—to go to my death! And -maybe this cat will follow on to haunt me in some other world, as it has -in this. Who knows? - -This doom had its beginning, as far as this life is concerned, when I was -a boy, a lonely boy in my grandmother’s house. My grandmother had a great -yellow Tartar cat that she loved as only a lonely old woman can love a -cat. - -[Illustration] - -Perhaps it was because I was jealous of the love and attention my -grandmother lavished on Toi Wah—a boy’s natural antipathy for anything -that usurps the place he thinks is his by right. Or perhaps it was the -same inborn cruelty, the same impish impulse to inflict suffering on a -helpless dumb creature, which I have observed in other boys. - -Anyway, with or without reason, I hated this self-complacent, -supercilious animal that looked at me out of topaz eyes, with a look that -seemed to see through and beyond me, as if I did not exist. - -I hated her with a hatred that could be satisfied only with her death, -and I thought and brooded for hours, that should have been devoted to my -studies, of ways and means to bring this death about. - -I must be fair to myself. Toi Wah hated me too. I could sense it as I sat -by my grandmother’s chair before the fire and looked across at Toi Wah, -who lay in a chair on the opposite side. At such times I would always -catch her watching me out of half-closed eyes, stealthily, furtively, -never off her guard. - -If she lay in my grandmother’s lap and I leaned over to stroke her -beautiful yellow fur, I could feel her actually shrink from my hand, and -she would never purr, as she always did when my grandmother stroked her. - -Sometimes I would hold her on my lap and pretend that I loved her. But as -I stroked her, my hands would itch and twitch with the desire to clinch -my hand in her satiny skin, and with the other hand choke her until she -died. - -My desire to kill would become so over-powering that my breath would -become hurried, my heart would beat almost to suffocation and my face -would flush. - -Usually my grandmother, noticing my reddened face would glance up over -her spectacles, from the book she was reading and say, “What ails you, -Robert? You look flushed and feverish. Perhaps the room is too warm for -you. Put Toi Wah down and run out in the air for a while.” - -I would take Toi Wah then, and, holding her as tightly as I dared, and -with my teeth clenched to restrain myself, I would put her on her cushion -and go out. - -My grandfather had brought Toi Wah, a little yellow, fluffy, amber-eyed -kitten, home with him in his ship from that mysterious land washed by the -Yellow Sea. - -And with Toi Wah had come a strange tale of her taking, stolen from an -old Buddhist Monastery garden nestling among age-old pines beside the -Grand Canal of China. - -About her neck was a beautifully-wrought collar of flexible gold, with a -dragon engraved along its length, together with many Chinese characters -and set with stones of Topaz and Jade. The collar was made so as to allow -for expansion as the need arose, so that Toi Wah was never without her -collar from her kittenhood to adult age. In fact, the collar could not be -loosened without injury to the metal. - -One day I descended into the kitchen with the cat in my arms and showed -Charlie, our Chinese cook, who had sailed the Seven Seas with my -grandfather, the collar about her neck. - -The old Chinaman stared until his eyes started from his head, all the -time making queer little noises in his throat. He rubbed his eyes and put -on his great horn spectacles and stared again, muttering to himself. - -“What is it, Charlie?” I asked, surprised at the old man, who was usually -so stoically calm. - -“These velly gleat words,” he said at last, shaking his head cryptically. -“Words no good flo you. Words good for velly gleat cat; Gland Lama cat.” - -“But what do the words say?” I urged. - -He mooned over the inscription for a long time, fingering the collar -lovingly, while Toi Wah lay passively in my arms and looked at him. - -“He say what I no can say good in English,” he explained at last. “He -say, ‘Death no can do, no can die.’ See? When Gland Lama cat wear this -colla’, no can die. No can be kill him—just change flom cat to some other -thing; monkey—tiger—hoss—maybe man—next time,” he concluded vaguely. - -“He say, ‘Love me, I love you, hate me, I hate you.’ No can say good in -English what Chinese say. See?” - -And with this I had to be content for the time. Now I know the characters -engraved on Toi Wah’s collar referred to a quotation from the seventh -book of Buddha, which, freely translated, reads as follows: - - “_That which is alive hath known death, and that which lives - can never die. Death is not; there is only a changing from - shape to shape, from life to life._ - - “_Mayhap the despised animal, walking in the dust of the road, - was one time King of Ind, or the consort of Ghengis Khan._ - - “_Do me no harm. Protect me, O Man, and I will protect thee. - Feed me, O Man, and I will feed thee. Love me, O Man, and I - will love thee. Hate me, and I will hate thee. Slay me, and I - will slay thee._ - - “_We be brothers, O Man, thou and I, from life to life, from - death to death, until Nirvana be won._” - -If I had only known then, and stayed my hand, I would not now be haunted -by this yellow terror that peers out at me from the dark; that follows -after me with softly padding feet; never nearer, never receding, until.... - -Toi Wah was mated with another Tartar cat of high degree, and became the -mother of a kitten. - -And such a mother! Only the hard heart made cruel by fear would remain -unsoftened by the great cat’s untiring devotion to her kitten. - -Everywhere she went she carried it in her mouth; never leaving it alone -for a moment, seeming to sense its danger from me; an abnormal, hated cat! - -However, she seemed to relent even toward me if I happened to pass her -chair when she was nursing the little creature. - -At such times she would lay stretching out her legs, opening and shutting -her great paws in a sort of ecstasy, purring her utter content. She would -look up at me, maternal pride and joy glowing in her yellow eyes, soft -and lustrous now, the hate and suspicion of me crowded out by mother love. - -“Look!” she seemed to say. “Look at this wonderful thing I have created -out of my body! Do you not love it?” - -I did not love it. No! On the contrary, it intensified my hate by adding -another object to it. - -My grandmother added fuel to the fire by sending me out to the shops to -buy delicacies for Toi Wah and her kitten; liverwurst and catnip for the -mother, milk and cream for the kitten. - -“Robert, my son,” she would say to me, all unaware of my hatred, “Do -you know we have quite a royal family with us? These wonderful cats are -descended in an unbroken line from the cats of the Royal Household of -Ghengis Khan. The records were kept in the Buddhist Monastery from which -Toi Wah came.” - -“How did Grandfather get her?” I asked. - -“Do not ask me, child,” the old lady smiled. “He told me only that he -stole her in a spirit of bravado from the garden of this ancient Buddhist -Monastery when egged on to do so by his friends. They were spending an -idle week exploring the ancient towns along the Grand Canal of China, and -were attracted by the beautiful Tartar cats in this garden. It seemed the -Buddhist Monks reared these cats as a sort of religious duty. - -“Your grandfather always believed that a Buddhist curse of some sort -went with Toi Wah after a Chinese merchant translated the Chinese -characters on her collar for him. And he often said he wished that he had -not whisked her into the pocket of his big sou’wester jacket, when the -priests were not looking. - -“Myself, I do not believe in these superstitious curses and omens, so I -would not let him take the collar off. In fact, he _could_ not do it; it -was so cunningly riveted. - -“He always feared some evil would come from the cat, but I have found her -a great comfort and a thing to love.” - -And she would hold out her hands to Toi Wah, and the great cat would leap -in her lap and rub her head lovingly against my grandmother’s neck. - -After that I feared Toi Wah more than ever. This fear was an intangible, -elusive thing. I could not understand it or analyze it; but it was very -real. If I wandered about the dim old passageways of my grandmother’s -ancient house, or explored the dusty cobwebby rooms, there seemed always -to follow after me the soft padding sound of Toi Wah’s paws. Following, -always following after me, but never coming nearer; always just beyond -where I could see. - -It was maddening! Always to have following after me the stealthy, soft, -almost inaudible sound of padded feet. I could never win free from it -within the house. - -In my bedroom, sitting alone before the fire with the door locked and -bolted, every corner of the room previously explored, the bed looked -under, I would always feel that she was sitting there behind me, watching -me out of vigilant yellow eyes. Eyes that were full of suspicion and -hate. Waiting, watching—for what? I did not know. I only feared. - -Out of this fear grew many unreal terrors. I came to believe that Toi Wah -was waiting a favorable chance to spring on me from behind, or when I was -asleep, and to dig her great curved claws into my throat, tearing and -rending it in her hate. - -I became so possessed by this fear that I fashioned a leather collar for -myself that fitted well up under my ears and around my neck. I wore this -always when I was alone in my room and when I slept, gaining some sense -of security thereby. But in the night time! No one can know what I, a -lonely boy, suffered then! - -My eyes would no sooner close in drowsy weariness when the stealthy -padding of Toi Wah’s footsteps would begin. I could hear them coming -softly up the stairs, stealing along the dark passageway to my room, at -the end. They stopped there because the door was locked and bolted, with -the heavy chiffonier jammed against it as an extra precaution. I would -listen intently, and I fancied I could hear a faint scratching sound at -the door. - -Then there would rush over me all the terrors of the dark. Suppose I had -failed to close the transom securely? If the transom was open Toi-Wah -could, with one great leap, win through and on to my bed. And then— - -The cold sweat of fear would exude from every pore, as my imagination -visualized Toi Wah leaping through, and, with a snarl, pouncing upon my -throat with tooth and claw. I would shudder and tremblingly feel about my -neck to make sure my leather collar was securely fastened. - -At last, unable to stand the uncertainty any longer, I would leap out -of bed, turn on the light, rush to the door, frantically drag the heavy -chiffonier to one side, and throw open the door. Nothing! - -Then I would creep along the passageway to the head of the stairs, and -peer down into the dimly-lighted hall. Nothing! - -Looking fearfully over my shoulder as I went, I would go back to my room, -shut the door, lock and bolt it, push the chiffonier against it, assure -myself that the transom was closed, and jump into bed, burying my head -beneath the covers. - -Then I could sleep. Sleep only to dream that Toi Wah had crept softly -into the room and was sucking the breath out of my body. This was a -popular superstition in the country years ago, and no doubt my dream was -aided by my being half suffocated beneath the bedclothes. But the dream -was none the less terrifying and real. - -Night after night I lived this life of cowering terror; of listening -for the haunting sound of stealthy, softly-padding footsteps always -following, never advancing, never receding. - -But the day of my revenge came at last. How sweet it was then! How -frightful it seems now! - - -_II._ - -Toi Wah’s kitten, now half grown, wandered away from his mother below -stairs and up to my room. Returning home from school, I found him there, -lying on the rug playing with one of my tennis balls. - -Joy filled my heart at the sight of him. I had just seen his mother -sleeping placidly on my grandmother’s lap, who was also sleeping. - -I softly closed and locked the door. At last I would be rid of one of the -pests that made my life a hell! I put on my leather collar and the heavy -gloves I used for working in the garden. I took these precautions because -even of this small kitten I was afraid! - -Unaware of its danger, the kitten romped about the rug. I drew a long -breath, stooped and picked him up. He looked at me, sensed his danger, -spat, and tried to squirm out of my hands. - -“Too late, you devil!” I exulted, holding him firmly. - -A buzzing came to my ears, a fullness of the head, a dryness of the -mouth, as I choked him—choked him until his glazing yellow eyes started -from their sockets and his tongue hung out. Choked him joyously, -relentlessly, deriving more pleasure from the death agony of this little -creature, whose mother I hated and feared, than I had ever known. - -After a long time I opened my hands and looked at him closely for any -signs of life. But he was quite dead. Of one of them at least, I was -forever rid, I thought jubilantly as I gazed at the lifeless body. And -then— - -There came a scratching at the door; and a loving, agonized _meow_! - -It did not seem possible that any animal was capable of putting into the -only sound with which it could express itself, the anxious, yearning love -that sound conveyed. - -The old fear clutched at my heart. It seems incredible that I, almost -a full-grown man, a football champion and all-round athlete, could be -afraid of a cat in broad daylight. - -But I was! Cold sweat poured down my back, and my hands trembled so that -the dead kitten fell with a soft _thump_ on the rug. - -This sound aroused me from my semi-stupor of fear. Hastily, I threw up -the window-sash and tossed the inert little body out into the yard. - -I closed the window, and, with a studied nonchalance, walked whistling to -the door and opened it. - -“Come in, kittie,” I said innocently. “Poor kittie!” - -Toi Wah ran in and frantically circled the room, _meowing_ piteously. She -paid no attention to me, but ran here and there, under the bed, under the -chiffonier, seeking in every corner of the large old-fashioned room. - -She came at last to the rug before the fire, lowered her head and sniffed -at the spot where, but a moment before, her darling had lain. - -She looked up at me, then, with great mournful eyes. Eyes with no hate in -them now, only unutterable sorrow. I have never seen in the eyes of any -creature the sorrow I saw there. - -That look brought a queer lump in my throat. I was sorry now for what I -had done. If I could have recalled my act, I would have done so. But it -was too late. The dead kitten lay out in the yard. - -For a moment Toi Wah looked at me, and then the sorrow in her eyes gave -way to the old look of suspicion and hate. And then, with a yowl like a -wolf, she sprang out of the room. - -As night came on, my fear increased. I dared not go to bed. I was uneasy, -too, craven that I was, for fear my grandmother would suspect me. But, -fortunately for me, she thought the kitten had been stolen and never -dreamed I had killed it. - -I lingered until the last moment before starting upstairs to bed. I -studiously avoided looking at Toi Wah as I passed her on my way to the -stairs. - -I raced up the stairs and down the long passage to my bedroom. Hastily -undressing, throwing my clothes here and there, I plunged into the very -center of the bed and buried my head beneath the covers. - -There I waited in shivering terror for the sound of padding footsteps. -They never came. And then, because I was tired out by the lateness of the -hour, and perhaps also stupefied by the lack of fresh air in my room, I -slept. - -Far in the night I heard the chimes from the church across the street, -and opened my eyes. The moonlight was shining in from the window and I -saw two fiery eyes glaring at me from a corner. - -Was I in the clutches of a nightmare, engendered by my fears? Or had I, -in my haste to get to bed, neglected to shut and lock my door? I do not -know, but suddenly there was a jar to the bed as something leaped upon it -from the floor. - -I sat up, shivering with terror, and Toi Wah looked into my eyes and held -them. In her mouth she held the bedraggled body of her kitten. She laid -it softly down on the coverlet, never taking her eyes from mine. - -Suddenly a soft glow, a sort of halo, shone around her, and then, as I am -a living and an honorable man, _Toi Wah spoke to me_! - - -_III._ - -She said—I could see her mouth move—“_He that hath slain shall slay -again. Then he that slayeth shall himself be slain._ - -“_Yea, seventy times seven shall thy days be after my cycle is broken. -Then, at this hour, shall I return that the thing may be accomplished -after Lord Buddha’s law._” - -Then the voice ceased, the halo faded. I felt the bed rebound as she -jumped to the floor, and there I heard the soft padding of her feet down -the passageway. - -I awoke with a shriek. My forehead was damp with sweat. My teeth were -chattering. I looked and saw that my door was wide open. I leaped out of -bed and turned on the light. Was it a hideous dream, a fearful nightmare? - -I do not know. But, lying there on the coverlet, was the wet muddy body -of Toi Wah’s kitten. - -A live and famished man-eating tiger in the room could not have inspired -me with greater terror. I dared not touch the cold dead thing. I dared -not remain in the room with it. - -I fled down the stairs, stumbling over furniture in the lower hall, until -I reached the houseman’s room. Here I knocked and begged, with chattering -teeth, to be allowed to remain on a couch in his room until morning, -telling him I had been frightened by a dreadful dream. - -Early the next morning I secretly took the dead kitten out in the garden -and buried it deep, putting a pile of stones over the grave; watching -carefully for any glimpse of Toi Wah. - -As I returned to the house, I met the old housekeeper, who stood with an -anxious face at the kitchen door. - -“Master Robert, no wonder that you could not sleep the morn! Your poor -grandmother passed away in the night. It must have been after midnight, -for I did not leave her until the stroke of eleven.” - -My heart leaped. Not for surprise or grief at my grandmother’s death. -That was a thing to be expected, and the cold aristocratic old lady had -not loved me over much. - -Nor was it for joy that she had left me rich, the last of an old race -whose forbears went down to the sea in ships, bringing home the wealth of -the world. - -No! I thought only that Toi Wah and I were on equal ground at last! And -that as soon as possible I would rid myself of the dread of her by day -and my terror of her by night. - -My inheritance would be a thing of little worth if I must spend anxious -days and fear-haunted nights. Toi Wah must die, in order that I might -know joyful days and sleep at night in peace. - -The joyous blood throbbed in my head and hissed in my ears as I raced up -to my room, got my leather collar and gloves and seized the great iron -poker beside the fire-place. - -I carried these up to the attic, a small, close room, dimly lighted by a -skylight. There were no openings here from which a cat could escape. - -Then I descended to my grandmother’s room. Already the corpse candles had -been lighted. I gave only a glance at the quiet, gaunt, aristocratic old -face, dignified even in death. - -I looked about in the flickering shadows thrown by the candles for Toi -Wah. I did not see her. Could it be that she, sensing her danger, had -fled? - -My heart sank. I drew my breath sharply. - -“The cat—Toi Wah?” I asked the housekeeper, who watched beside the dead. -“Where is she?” - -“Under the bed,” she answered. “The poor creature is that distracted she -would not eat, and had to be driven from your grandmother’s side in order -that we might compose the body. She would not leave the room, but darted -under the bed there, snarling and spitting. It’s afraid of her I am.” - -I got down on my hands and knees and peered under the bed. Crouched in -the farthest corner was Toi Wah, and her great yellow eyes glared at me -in terror and defiance. - -“It’s afraid of her, I am, Master Robert,” the housekeeper repeated. -“Please take her away.” - -I was afraid of Toi Wah, too. So afraid of her that I could know no -peace, nor happiness, if she lived. I was sure of that. - -It is the coward who is dangerous. Fear kills always if it can. It never -temporizes, nor is it ever merciful. Beware of him who fears you. - -I crawled under the bed and seized her. She made no resistance, much to -my surprise, but I could feel her body trembling through my gloves. As my -hand closed over her, she made a little sound like a gasp—that was all. - -I crawled out, and in the presence of the housekeeper, and the dead, I -held her lovingly in my arms, calling her “poor kittie” and stroking her -long yellow fur, while she lay passive, tremblingly passive, in my arms. - -I deceived the housekeeper, who thought I was venting my grief for my -grandmother’s death by loving and caressing the object of the old lady’s -affection. I did not deceive Toi Wah. She lay quietly in my arms, but it -was the paralysis of terror; the nonresistant stupor of great fear. Her -body never ceased trembling, and her eyes were lifeless and dull. She -seemed to know her fate and had accepted the inevitable. - -I carried her upstairs, threw her upon the floor and locked the door. -I seized the poker beside the door and turned to slay her. Toi Wah lay -where I had thrown her, crouched as if to spring, but she did not move. -She only looked at me. - -I did not fear her now. On my hands were heavy gauntlets, and about my -throat was the heavy leather guard I had made, bradded and studded with -steel and brass. - -Toi Wah did not move. She only looked, but such a look! It appealed to -the merciless devil in my heart. It burned into my soul. - -“Kill me!” her great amber eyes seemed to say. “Kill me quickly and -mercifully as you killed the darling of my heart. What sayeth the -Master: ‘Be merciful, and thy heart shall know peace.’ Today is yours, -tomorrow—Who can say?” - -As if in a dream, I stood and looked into her eyes. Looked until those -amber eyes converged into a dirty yellow pool around the edge of which -grew giant ferns and reeds taller than our forest trees. And a misty haze -hung over the scene. - -Into the pool floated a canoe, a hollowed-out tree trunk. In the canoe -was a man, a woman, and a child, all naked except for skins about their -shoulders. - -The man pushed toward the shore with a pole, and as he made a landing he -leaped into the water and pulled the boat upon the bank. - -As he pulled at the boat, the reeds quivered to the right of him, and a -great yellow-colored tiger leaped from the cover of the ferns and seized -the child. - -For a moment it stood there, the man and woman paralyzed by fear and -horror. Then, blood dripping from its jaws, it leaped back among the -reeds and was gone. - -The face of the man in the boat _was mine_! And it was Toi Wah who held -my child in her dripping jaws! A great Toi Wah, with sabre teeth and -dirty yellow hide, but still Toi Wah. - -The pool faded and I stood there, looking into the eyes of my -grandmother’s Tartar cat. - -But I knew! _At last I knew!_ - - -_IV._ - -Explain it how you will, I knew that somewhere far back in that -prehistoric time, Toi Wah had snatched away my first-born before my -tortured eyes and that his tender flesh had filled a sabre-toothed -tiger’s maw. - -Now had come the day of my revenge! I clutched the poker more firmly in -my hands. I stood and seized her by the collar that none of us had been -able to unfasten. It came off in my hand! - -Wonderingly, I looked at it, then cast it aside, to think no more of the -curious antique until.... - -I was in haste to rid myself of this thing of hate and dread. My heart -leaped. I ground my teeth in an ecstasy of joy; my cheeks burned. A -feeling of well-being and power made my whole body glow.... - -I left her there, at last, on the blood-stained floor, a broken dead -thing, and went out and locked the door after me. - -I was free at last! Free from the fear of claws and teeth in my quivering -throat. Free from the sound of softly-padding feet. I was a new man, -indeed, for there sloughed from me all the old timidity and lack of -aggressiveness that this fear of Toi Wah had engendered in me. I went -from my grandmother’s house to college, a man among men.... - -I did not return again to the house of my inheritance until I brought -my bride—a shy, soft, fluffy little thing a lovely contrast to the -aggressive type of modern woman. - -She was an old-world Eastern type, the daughter of a returned Chinese -missionary, educated in the Orient, and she had the manners and had -absorbed the ideals of the soft-voiced, secluded, home-loving Chinese -women among whom she had been reared. - -Her light brown eyes and yellow hair, her slow, undulating graceful -walk, and her quaint old-fashioned ways attracted me; and after a short, -impetuous wooing we were wed. - -I was very happy. Only twenty-four, wealthy, and married to a loving and -beautiful girl whom I adored! - -I looked forward to a long life of peace and happiness, but it was -not to be. From the very day of my return to the accursed house of my -grandmother there was a change. What was it? I do not know, but I could -feel it. I could sense it, the very first day. A subtle something, a pall -of gloom, intangible, elusive and baffling, began slowly to settle over -me, stifling and suffocating the happiness that was mine before the evil -day of my return home. - -I had returned from the village with some trifle of household necessity. -The servants had not yet arrived, and the housekeeper, old and infirm -now, was busy putting the place in order. - -Returning, I sought my wife, and found her in my grandmother’s room, -standing before the life-size portrait of Toi Wah, done in oil for my -grandmother by a great artist, who also loved cats as she had loved them. - -Until that day Toi Wah had remained only a dim memory of a fear-driven -boy’s cruel revenge. Purposely, I had put all thought of her out of my -mind. But now it all returned, a horde of hateful memories, as I stood -there in the open door and saw my wife standing and gazing up at the -likeness of the great cat. - -And as she turned, startled at my entrance, what did I see? - -I saw, or thought I saw, a likeness, a great likeness, between the two! -Eyes, hair, the general expression—Why had I not noticed it before! - -And what else? In my wife’s eyes was the old fear, the ancient hate, I -used to see in Toi Wah’s eyes when I came suddenly into my grandmother’s -room—this room! The look flashed out for an instant and was gone. - -“How you frightened me, Robert!” she laughed. “And the look in your face! -What has happened?” - -“Nothing,” I answered. “Nothing at all.” - -“But why did you look at me so?” she insisted. “Surely something has gone -amiss. Aren’t the servants coming? If they are not, I am not entirely -useless; I can even cook,” and she laughed again, an embarrassed laugh I -thought. - -She had the manner of having been surprised by my entrance, of being -detected in something, secret or hidden, which she was now trying to -cover up and conceal. - -“Why,” I stammered confusedly, for this remarkable resemblance had thrown -me quite off my feet, “nothing is wrong. Only I was suddenly struck, -as you stood there by the portrait of my grandmother’s cat, by the -remarkable resemblance; your hair, your eyes—the same color. That was -all.” - -“Why, Robert!” she laughed, holding up an admonishing finger. - -This time I was sure of the note of confusion in her laugh, which seemed -forced. My wife was not given to laughter, being a quiet, self-contained -sort of person. - -“Imagine! I, like a cat!” - -“Well,” I said lightly, gathering her in my arms—for I, too, was -dissembling, now that I had regained my self-possession and saw that I -was betraying my secret fear—“Toi Wah was a very beautiful and high-bred -cat. Her ancestry dated back to Ghengis Khan. So to resemble her would -not be so bad, would it?” And I kissed her. - -Did she shrink from the caress? Did her body tremble in my arms? Or was -it imagination, the stirring of old memories of Toi Wah, who shrank from -my lightest touch? - -I did not know. I do know, however, that my strange experience on that -day was the beginning of the end; the end that is not yet, but is swiftly -on the way—for me! - - -_V._ - -As the day wore on, I grew restless and uneasy; ill at ease and -dissatisfied. - -So after dinner I went for a long walk along the country roads. When I -returned my wife was asleep. I lay down softly beside her, and, tired out -by my long walk, was soon asleep myself. - -Asleep, I dreamed. Dreamed of Toi Wah and Toi Wah’s kitten. And I heard -again, in my sleep, the plaintive cry of the cat mother as she called -anxiously and lovingly for her kitten that would never return. - -So vivid and so real was the dream that I awoke with a cry of the cat in -my ears. And as I awoke, I seemed to hear it again—plaintive, subdued, a -half-cat, half-human cry, as if a woman had cried aloud and then quickly -suppressed the cry. - -And my wife was gone! - -I sprang up hastily. The moonlight was streaming through the window. It -was almost as light as day. She was nowhere in the room. - -I went swiftly down the hall and descended the stairs, making no noise -with my bare feet. The door of my grandmother’s room was open. I looked -in. Two luminous eyes, with a greenish tinge, glowed out at me from the -semi-darkness of the far corner. - -For an instant my heart stood still, and then raced palpitatingly on. I -took a deep breath and went toward the unknown thing with glowing eyes -that crouched in that corner. - -As I reached the pool of moonlight in the center of the room, I heard a -gasp of fear, a sudden movement, and my wife fled past me, out of the -room and up the stairs. - -I heard the bedroom door slam behind her, heard the key turn in the lock. - -As she rushed past me and up the stairs, the patter of her feet fell on -my ears like the soft padding of Toi Wah’s footsteps that had filled -my youthful years with fear. My blood chilled at this old, until now, -forgotten sound. - -What craven fear was this? I tried to pull myself together, to reason -rationally. Fear of a cat long dead, whose mouldering bones were upstairs -on the attic floor! What was there to fear? Was I going mad? - -The slamming of the bedroom door, the turning of the key in the lock, -instantly changed my thought and roused in me an overwhelming fury. Was -I to be locked out of my own bedroom—_our_ bedroom? - -I rushed up the stairs. I knocked on the door, I rattled the knob. I -pounded with my fists on the panels. I shouted, “Open! _Open the door!_” - -In the midst of my furious onslaught, the door suddenly opened and a -sleepy-eyed little figure stood aside to allow me to enter. - -“Why, Robert!” she exclaimed, as I stood there, bewildered and ashamed, -a furious conflict of doubt, fear and uncertainty raging in my mind. -“What’s the matter? Where have you been? I was sound asleep, and you -frightened me, shouting and pounding at the door.” - -Was I deceived? Partly. But in her eyes! Ah! In her eyes was that sly, -inscrutable catlike look that I had never seen there until that day. And -now that look never leaves them, it is there always! - -“What were you doing below stairs—alone—in my grandmother’s room?” I -stammered. - -She arched her brows incredulously. - -“I?—below stairs? Why, Robert, what is wrong with you? I just this moment -awoke from a sound sleep to let you in. How could I be below stairs?” - -“But the bedroom door was locked!” I exclaimed. - -“You must have gone below yourself,” she explained, “and shut the door -after you. It has a spring lock. You surely must have had some hideous -dream. Dear, come to bed now.” And she went back to bed. - -Again I dissembled as I had that day when I found her standing before Toi -Wah’s portrait. I knew, beyond a reasonable doubt, that she was lying. -I knew I had been fully awake and in my right senses when I had gone -down stairs and found her there. Evidently she desired to deceive me, -and until I could fathom her motive I would pretend to believe her. So, -muttering something to the effect that she must be right, I got into bed -also. - -But not to sleep. There came trooping into my harried mind all the old -youthful terrors of the dark, and I lived over all those terror-haunted -days when I dwelt in fear of Toi Wah or of a shadowy something, I knew -not what. - -Lying there in the dark, I resolved that morning would find me leaving -that seemingly ghost-ridden place forever. My peace of mind, my -happiness, to be free from fear—these things were worth all the fine old -country places in the world. And with this resolution, I slept. - -I slept far into the day, awaking at noon to find my wife had gone out -with some of our neighbors for a game of tennis and afternoon tea. So, -clearly, I could not arrange to leave until the next day. I must await -my wife’s return, and in the meantime formulate some sort of reasonable -excuse to explain to her my precipitate return to town, after planning a -year’s sojourn in the country. - -And then, too, it was daylight now, sober matter-of-fact daylight, and, -as was always the case with me, the terrors of the night then seemed -unreal, half forgotten nightmares. So I dismissed the subject from my -mind for the time being, and set out for a long walk across the fields. - -It was near dinner time when I returned. As I opened the door of the -dining-room, my wife turned from where she stood by the fire-place to -greet me, and I was again struck by her resemblance to Toi Wah. The -arrangement of her hair heightened this effect. And when she smiled!—I -cannot describe it! Such a sly, secret, feline smile! - -“Robert,” she said, as she came to me and put up her lips to be kissed. -“Do you know what day this is?” - -I shook my head. - -“Why, it’s my birthday, you forgetful boy! My twenty-first birthday, and -I have a surprise for you. - -“The old Buddhist priest, who taught me when I was a child gave me a -flagon of rare old Chinese Lotus wine, when he parted from me, which I -was to keep inviolate until my twenty-first birthday. I would be married -then, he said, and on that day I was to unseal the old flagon and drink -the wine with my husband in memory of my old teacher who would then be in -the bosom of Nirvana. - -“Look!” and she turned to the serving-table on which sat a small, squat -wicker-covered flagon, and handed it to me. - -I looked at it curiously. It was sealed with a small brass seal, which -was stamped all over with dim Chinese characters. - -“What are these characters?” I asked, handing her the flagon. - -She looked closely at the seal. - -“Oh! One of those wise old Buddhist sayings, which the Chinese stick on -everything.” She smiled. “Shall I translate it? I can, you know.” - -I nodded. - -“_‘Wine maketh the heart glad or sad, good or evil. Drink Oh! Man to thy -choice!’_” she read. - -Then she pulled off the seal and poured out the wine; a thick amber -liquid, so heavy that it poured like thick cream. Its bouquet filled the -room with a faint, far-off odor of lotus flowers. - -“Shall we drink now, Robert, or shall we wait until dinner is served?” - -“Let us drink now,” I said, curious to taste this Eastern wine, with -which I was not familiar. - -“Amen!” said my wife, softly. - -Then she spoke, rapidly and softly under her breath, a few Chinese words, -or so I judged them to be, and we drank the wine. There was not a great -deal in the flagon, and we drank it all before dinner was served. - -As I sat at dinner a strange comfortable feeling gradually came over me. -Distrust, fear, and apprehension died out of my mind, and my heart was -light. My wife and I laughed and talked together as we had done in the -days of our courtship. I was a different man. - -After dinner we went into the music-room and she sang for me. Sang in a -sweet low voice strange weird old songs of ancient China. Of the dragon -banner floating in the sun, and the watch fires on the hills. Of old -Tartar loves and hates. Of wrongs that never die, but pass on from age to -age, from life to life, from death to death—unhasting, unending until the -debt be paid. - -I sat listening, dozing in a hazy mental languor, with the feeling -foreign to me of late, that all was well with the world. I was peacefully -happy, and my wife’s sweet voice crooned on. Bedtime, the going up to our -bedroom, and what followed after is only a blurred memory. - -I awoke, or seemed to awake (now that I am in this madhouse I do not -really know) far into the night. - -I awoke with a feeling of suffocation, a sensation of impending -dissolution. I could not move, I could not speak. I had a sense of -something indescribably evil, loathsome, blood-curdling, that was hanging -over me, threatening my very life. - -I tried to open my eyes. The lids seemed to be weighted down. All the -force of my will could only slightly open them. Through this slight -opening, I saw my wife bending over me, and the eyes that looked at me -_were the inscrutable eyes of Toi Wah_! - - -_VI._ - -Slowly she bent down—I could sense the delicate fragrance of her -hair—and applied her sweet, soft lips to mine. Again I felt that I was -suffocating, that the very breath of my life was being drawn from me. - -I concentrated all my will in the effort to struggle, and with tremendous -effort I was able feebly to move an arm. My wife hastily took her lips -from mine and looked at me closely, with the cruel amber eyes of the -great Tartar cat, whose bones lay in my garret. - -Once more she leaned over and applied her lips to mine. I lay there in -helpless lethargy, unable to move, but with an active mind that leaped -back into the past, bringing to my memory all the old nursery tales -of childhood of cats sucking the breath of sleeping children, of the -folklore tales that I had heard of helpless invalids done to death by -cruel cats who stole their breath from them. - -I began to be aroused at last. Was my breath to be sucked from me by this -half-human, half-cat that was bending over me? With a final despairing -effort of my wine-sodden will, I raised my arms and pushed this soft -sweet vampire from my breast and from the bed. - -And then, as the cold sweat of fear poured from my trembling body, I -shouted for help. At last my servant came running up the stairs and -pounded on the door. - -“What is it?” he called. “What is wrong, sir? Shall I go for the police?” - -“Nothing is wrong,” answered my wife calmly. She had risen from where I -had thrown her and was arranging her disheveled hair. “Your master has -had a terrible dream, that is all.” - -“It is a lie!” I shouted. “Do not leave me alone with this vampire!” - -I sprang from bed, and, heedless of my wife’s semi-nude condition, I -flung open the door. She shrank back, but I seized her by the wrist, -beside myself with nervous terror. - -And then—there on her wrist—I saw! I looked closely to be sure. Then -instantly all was clear to me. I was in doubt no longer. I _knew_! - -“Look!” I shrieked. “Here on her wrist! Toi Wah’s collar!” I do not know -why I said it, or scarcely what I did say, but I knew it to be true! - -“Toi Wah’s collar!” I repeated. “She can’t take it off! _She is changing -into a cat!_ Look at her eyes! Look at her hair! Soon she will be Toi Wah -again with the collar about her neck, and then—” - -And then I saw my wife disconcerted for the first time. I felt the arm I -had seized, tremble in my frenzied grip. - -“Why, Robert!” she stammered. “I—I found this on the attic floor -yesterday. And—and—thinking it a curious old Chinese relic, I put it on -my wrist. It’s a bracelet, not a collar!” - -“Take it off then!” I shouted. “Take it off! You can’t! You can’t, until -you become Toi Wah again, and then it will be about your neck. Read what -it says! It is in your accursed tongue! - -“But you shall never live to madden me again with fear, to make my life -a hell of peering eyes and padding feet, and then to suck my breath at -last! I killed you once, I can do it again! And again and yet again in -any shape the devils in hell may send you to prey upon honest men!” - -And I seized her by her beautiful throat. I meant to choke her until -those cruel yellow eyes started from their sockets, and then laugh as I -saw her gasping in the last agony of death. - -But I was cheated. The servants overpowered me, and I was brought here to -this mad-house. - -I said I was perfectly sane then. I say it now. And learned alienists, -sitting in council, have agreed with me. Tomorrow I am to be discharged -into the custody of my sweet cooing-voiced wife, who comes daily to see -me. She kisses me with soft lying lips that long to suck my breath, or -perhaps even rend the flesh of my throat with the little white teeth back -of the cruel lips. - -So tomorrow I will go forth—to die. To be murdered! I go to death just -as surely as if the hangman waited to haul me to the gallows, or if the -warden stood outside to escort me to the electric chair. - -I _know_ it! I have told the learned psychologists and doctors that I -know it. But they laugh. - -“All a delusion!” they exclaim. “Why, your little wife loves you with -all her loyal heart. Even with your finger-prints a bluish bruise about -her tender throat, she loved you. That night when you awoke, frightened, -to find her bending over you, she was only kissing you, in an effort to -soothe your troubled sleep.” - -But I _know_! Therefore, I am setting all this down so that when I am -found dead the learned doctors may know that I was right and they were -wrong. And so that Justice may be done. - -And yet—perhaps nothing can be done. I have ceased to struggle. I have -given up. Like the Oriental, I say, “_Who can escape his fate?_” - -For I shall die by Chinese justice, a Buddhist revenge for killing the -Tartar cat, Toi Wah. Toi Wah that I hated and feared, and have hated and -feared through all the lives that the two of us have lived, far, far back -to that time when the yellow sabre-toothed tiger seized my first-born -and fled with him among the reeds and ferns of the Paleozoic marshes, a -dainty morsel for her kitten. - -And so—farewell! - - * * * * * - -“Such a weird tale!” the nurse shuddered, as the interne finished the -manuscript. “Let us drive over to Cheshire Manor and—” - -“Do you believe this story?” interrupted the interne, tapping the -manuscript with his fingers, and skeptically lifting his eyebrows and -smiling. - -“No, of course not!” exclaimed the nurse, “but—the drive won’t do us any -harm, and—I would like to make sure.” - -As they stopped their car before the somber old mansion they were struck -by the strange silence of the place. Not a servant answered their ring. -And after a time, since the door stood open, they entered and began to -ascend the stairs. - -A strange, weird, lonesome sound floated down to them—the yowl of a cat. - -They stopped for an instant and looked at each other, and then, reassured -by the sunlight, and both being matter-of-fact professional people, they -pressed on. At the head of the stairs they faced a long passage at the -end of which was an open door. - -“Look! That is the bedroom he wrote about,” whispered the nurse, grasping -the interne’s arm. - -They walked softly down the passage to the door and looked in. On the -bed lay the man they sought, glassy-eyed, with fallen jaw and livid -face—_dead!_ - -On his breast stood a great yellow amber-eyed cat, who faced them with an -arched back and menacing snarl. Involuntarily, they drew back. The cat -sprang past them and down the passageway to the stairs, uttering the same -weird cry. - -“My God!” gasped the nurse, with pallid lips. “Did you see? About that -cat’s neck—and it was a Tartar cat; I know the breed—about that cat’s -neck was—was the Topaz and Jade collar—that—that he wrote about!” - - - - -Neighbors See “Sacred Heart” in Girl’s Death Room - - -After the death of Lillian Daly, a very devout girl of Chicago, the -report spread that a “sacred heart” could be seen on the wall of the -room wherein she had died and that if any afflicted person should touch -this heart he or she would be instantly cured. At once the house at -6724 Justine Street was visited by numbers of ill persons, all eager to -experience the magic cure. Two priests from neighborhood parishes visited -the house, but said they could not see the apparition. - - - - -Hold “Petting Parties” in Morgue - - -A grisly spot for love-making was chosen by a wealthy undertaker of -Chicago, whose stories of “petting parties” in a morgue, wine parties in -a mortuary chapel and “shimmy” dances in an embalming room caused a woman -to file suit against him for $50,000. The woman claims he attacked her -reputation. - - - - -_Eerie Adventure and Mammoth Treasure Were Found in_ - -THE GOLDEN CAVERNS - -_A Condensed Novel_ - -_By_ JULIAN KILMAN - - -When Ericson quietly toppled over and the paddle slipped from his grasp, -our canoe was instantly broadside in the rapids. But Zangaree immediately -brought the heavily-laden craft head on, his skill once more saving our -slender expedition from the disaster that had trailed us so persistently -since leaving the large steamer at Itacoatiara. - -A faint shout from the second canoe sounded through the din of racing -water. Evidently Van Dusee and Hardy had observed our mishap. I waved -a hand in reply, and then I bent over Ericson who lay with his eyes -rolling. Instead of sunstroke, as I had assumed, he had been wounded; a -thin stream of blood ran from his temple. Zangaree whirled the canoe to -the small islet we were just passing. But we were too late. Ericson was -dead. - -The shock of our fellow-voyageur’s death was still on me as, amid the -amazing splendor of that tropical scene, we made preparations to dispose -of the body. Much later in the night, when all were sleeping, I felt a -tug at my mosquito netting, and in the dim starlight I made out Hardy’s -pioneer head, with its square-jawed face, peering at me. - -He motioned me to follow him quietly. Wonderingly, I made my way after -this soldier of fortune, who, by the sheerest good luck, we had picked up -in the Brazilian capital. Presently he stopped. - -“Do you wish to continue your journey?” he asked. - -Despite Ericson’s death, I could not think otherwise; already we had come -four thousand miles, of which the last fifteen hundred had brought us -into the very interior of the South American continent. Too much capital -and energy had been expended for us lightly to abandon our project. And I -said so. - -“You misunderstand,” he returned quickly. “It is not Ericson’s finish -that made me ask, _but the manner of it_!” - -The thin edge of doubt as to Hardy’s fortitude perhaps began to insert -itself into my mind. He observed it. - -“Damn it, man!” he exclaimed. “I am game. But you are to know that from -now on we’ll have to buck not only the elements, but that toad-faced _de_ -Silva as well.” - -At mention of the Spaniard who had tricked and nearly outmaneuvered us at -Rio de Janiero with the officials, something like a chill came over me. - -“What brings him into this?” I demanded. - -Hardy’s answer was dramatic enough. - -“Only this,” he said. “It is a little thing. But it killed Ericson.” - -I gazed at the slender blow-pipe arrow in Hardy’s hand. It had done for -our archaeologist. - -“That type of arrow is unknown hereabouts,” went on Hardy. “It is -poisoned and is used by the Amajuca Indians six hundred miles back on the -Amazon. It means that we are being followed.” - -The camp fire was dying out when Hardy and I returned from our talk, -both of us determined to make the additional four hundred miles that we -estimated lay between us and the point we planned to reach—and to gain -it by land if the water route on the gradually diminishing stream was to -afford our enemies too easy an opportunity to decimate us. - -I stood there, surveying the sleeping figures of my comrades: Van Dusee, -the true scientist, whose interest in his beloved hemiptera seemed to -render him impervious to the sting of insect pests and the pains and -dangers of our journey; young Anderson, son of the president of our -Institute; Zangaree, sleeping in his giant strength like a child. - -And Ericson! A lump came into my throat at the thought of the gallant -fellow who had so suddenly come to an end. Had I known then what was in -store for the surviving members of our little band, surely I would have -cried aloud, for all told, counting the mighty Zangaree, the half-breeds -and Indians, we numbered only ten men. - -By the time the morning sun was flooding the ravine with light, we were -all astir. Caching much of our supplies, we ferried to the right-hand -bank of the stream farther down. Here, with no sign of the enemy we -secreted our canoes in the bushes, and, distributing among ourselves -ammunition, food, a light silk tent, blankets and scientific impedimenta, -we shouldered our packs and started on the long hike inland. - -For two days we made slow progress, because of the luxuriance of the -undergrowth; but in time this gave way to vast primeval woods. Never -shall I forget the solemn mystery of it! Trees rivaling in size the -gigantic redwoods of California raised themselves to enormous height, -where their tremendous columns spread out in Gothic curves, which -interlaced to form a great matted roof of green—architecture of the -Greatest of All Architects! - -As we walked noiselessly but hurriedly under the lash of Hardy’s -impatience amid the thick carpet of decaying vegetation, we were hushed -in spite of ourselves. Vivid orchids and marvelously-colored lichens -smouldered upon the swarthy tree trunks. Climbing plants, monstrous and -riotous in verdure, fought their way upward, seeking futilely at once to -throttle tree-life and to reach the sunlight. - -Of animal life there was little movement amid the majestic vaulted aisles -which stretched from us as we pursued our way; but the slight though -constant agitation far above us told of that multitudinous world of snake -and monkey, bird and sloth, which lived in the sunshine and regarded with -wonder our puny stumbling figures in the depths below. At dawn the howler -monkeys and parrakeets filled the air with shrill chatter; and in the hot -hours came the drone of insects. - -As yet there had been no indication that any one was following us. -Indeed, we seemed to be untold miles from civilization and I was -commenting to young Anderson on the likelihood of our escape from the -pursuit of _de_ Silva when I caught a look in Hardy’s eyes. - -“Oh, pshaw!” I exclaimed later, slightly nettled. “You are pessimistic, -Hardy. Had _de_ Silva been after us we should surely have heard from him -before this.” - -“No. That isn’t so,” retorted Hardy. “Our leaving the river has deceived -him. I am satisfied that he planned an ambush farther along the stream. -In a short time he’ll discover we have given him the slip. Then he’ll be -after us.” - -“And just why, Hardy,” I demanded, “is this insane Spaniard following us?” - -Hardy’s expression was quizzical. - -“I have a sort of hunch—that’s all,” he returned, non-committally. - -The next day one of our Indians was missing. He had been sent back over -the trail a mile or so to recover a small rifle that had been lost. Hardy -himself and young Anderson made the tiresome hike to the rear to learn if -possible the whereabouts of the Indian. Later, when the two rejoined us -without the Indian, Hardy did not have anything to say. - -Anderson told me afterwards that they had found the Indian curled up at -the foot of a tree. He was dead without a mark on him. - -Depressing as was this development, our little party found scant time -to discuss it. The way had grown much more difficult, for our road -persistently ascended. Huge trees now gave place to palms, with thick -underbrush growing between. We traveled entirely by compass, but missed -Ericson, who had been a navigator and had from time to time “shot the -sun” to verify our position. - -On the fifth day we encountered a tremendous wilderness of bamboo, which -grew so thickly that we could only penetrate it by cutting a pathway with -the machetes and bill-hooks of the Indians. It took us a long day, with -only two pauses of a half hour each to get clear of this yellow-walled -obstacle. - -Once free of it, we were glad to throw ourselves down for the first real -rest which Hardy was willing that we should take. But it proved to be of -short duration, because Anderson, eternally on the move, discovered, less -than half a mile away, that another path recently had been cut through -the bamboo nearly paralleling ours. - -That night we slept behind some slight attempt at a barricade. This -protection, consisting of a circle of thorn brush piled three feet high, -at least sufficed to keep out a few wailing animals that filled the air -with weird noises, and most of us rested the night through without fear. - -Next morning I discovered the presence of a soil that was like sand. This -was consistent with the dryness of the air, but was disconcerting as I -knew that the terrain and climate of the spot whither we were bound was -of no such character as that which surrounded us. - -It was about this time that young Anderson made a second startling -discovery, and one fraught with momentous consequences for our -expedition. Our compass was out of order. This defection was serious in -the extreme. It meant that we were lost, for there was no knowing how -long the instrument had been untrue. - -The day went badly. The farther we progressed the more sandy it became. -We seemed about to enter upon a great desert, and to make matters worse -our Indians showed signs of discontent. Our supply of water was low; -still we knew that only a day’s march behind us we had passed a stream -of clear water. Study of the maps that night failed to account for any -considerable expanse of desert, and it was decided to push boldly across -on the chance of later picking up our route. - -We waited two days while Zangaree and the half-breeds made the trip -back for additional water. Then we started. If our suffering in the -past had been great, it now increased a hundredfold. The heat, instead -of having that suffocating quality peculiar to humidity, was burning in -its intensity; and, to add to our discomfort, Hardy kept us going at top -speed. - -In this the rest of us felt he was justified, as there could be no doubt -that _de_ Silva, with a larger party than ours, was in the general -neighborhood, and looking for us. Hour after hour, until four days -dragged by, we trudged on late into the night, with the aid of an erratic -compass, through that Sahara-like sea of rippling sand. - -By the severest rationing of our supply it was estimated that we had less -than one day’s water. Our situation was serious. To go back was as deadly -as to go on. - -And it was at this point that our spirits were sent to low ebb by -Zangaree’s astounding discovery that we had doubled in our tracks in the -night and for two days _had been traveling in a circle_! - - -_II._ - -I think even young Anderson, for the time being, lost heart at sight -of that bit of inanimate evidence—a trifle of card board that had been -tossed aside—which drove home the knowledge that we were hopelessly lost. - -But not for long was that restless youth depressed, and while Hardy and -the rest of us sat in solemn council that evening, he wandered off by -himself. Perhaps he had been gone half an hour when we heard him shout: - -“_Water!_” - -We ran toward him, and presently came to what might be called a minute -oasis. Quickly a spade was brought and work was started at the damp spot -located in the center. - -In the meantime I studied the environs. A few scrubby bushes grew about, -while at one side stood a low triangular column of stones. I discovered -that each stone had cut in it a series of cuneiform inscriptions which -even the untold years of contact with the eroding sand had failed to -eradicate. - -Quite idly I had laid my arm on the top when a curious thing happened; -half of the upper stone, under the slight weight of my elbow, swung down -silently, as if on a ballasted hinge. Then I stared into the interior of -the column, which I had supposed solid, and saw, to my amazement, that a -narrow stairway led down. - -It was the work of only a moment for me to crawl in, and presently, in -pitch darkness, I was following the steep stairway. My fingers told me -that the sides were firm and well-bricked. - -I came shortly to what seemed to be a tunnel, and in this I spent some -fifteen minutes, finding the air good and congratulating myself on my -successful descent and discovery of the unique underground passage. - -I was about to start up again to tell my companions of my strange -discovery when there was an explosion. It lifted the helmet from my head -and was followed by the rattle of stones and debris that deluged and -buffeted and pounded me until I sank under the weight of the impact. - -When I regained consciousness I lay in the open air. Anderson was bending -over me solicitously. - -“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Here you are—all sound except for a cracked arm.” - -“What happened?” I asked. - -He grinned at me. “Why, we were all helping at the water-hole when Van -Dusee missed you. He remembered that you had been standing by the stone -column one minute; the next you were gone, absolutely vanished, just as -if the earth had opened up and swallowed you.” - -“Which in fact it had,” I said, grimly. “But wasn’t the top open?” - -“Open!” shouted Anderson. “I should say not. Hardy and I hammered that -pile of stone and we couldn’t make a dent in it. We never thought of -trying the top. Finally Hardy slipped a little dynamite under the column -and we followed you down the stairway.” - -By degrees I got my strength back. - -“Ready for some big news?” Anderson said, presently. - -I nodded. - -“All right, then. Hang on now. We came to South America to get scientific -data, didn’t we?” - -“Yes,” I said. - -“Well, that’s all gone by the board now,” went on the young man. “We’re -going to explore the Caverns of the Ataruipe.” - -The “Caverns of the Ataruipe” meant precisely nothing to me. - -“Listen to me,” he explained. “The Ataruipe are a lost race of people. -Hardy picked up the dope during the time he hung around Rio; he says the -archives of the Brazilian government are full of old maps purporting -to give the location of treasure; some of these maps were made in the -fifteenth century and actually purport to show where the ElDorado may be -found. - -“It is said that in earlier days expedition after expedition was fitted -out and despatched to find the ‘Gilded King,’ a chap whose people had -such quantities of gold that they built their houses of the solid metal. -But the best story of all is that of the Caverns of the Ataruipe, a race -that lived more than a thousand years ago, and came from Asia; they were -wonderful goldsmiths, possessing untold quantities of gems and all the -precious metals. The legend is that the Ataruipe used to come in large -numbers down the rivers to the coast to trade, scattering among the -natives quantities of gold pieces of exquisite design such as had never -before been seen; but that after a certain date no one ever saw them -again; nor has anyone ever been able to locate the particular part of the -country where they resided.” - -As the young man ran on a light began to dawn in my mind. - -“And _de_ Silva?” I interjected. - -“Sure! You’ve struck it!” was Anderson’s swift response. “Hardy says -the officials long have felt that the Ataruipe came from hereabouts, -and Hardy claims the Spaniard, representing some of them, suspects our -expedition of searching for the treasure.” - -“Were the cuneiform inscriptions on the stone column examined?” - -“Certainly,” said Anderson. “Hardy got all that. I never saw him so -interested before. He swears we have struck it rich.” - -Suddenly I realized that my throat was burning with thirst. - -“How about some water?” I asked. - -In a moment a brimming cup of the precious fluid was at my lips. I drank -greedily and, I fear, with little thought as to the source of supply. - -While we were yet discussing the altered aspect of our situation a voice -hailed us, and we turned to discover Hardy just emerging from the hole -that gaped where the triangular stone column had stood. Following him -came Van Dusee and the rest of the party. - -When all were safely out Hardy touched a match to the long fuse he had -laid from a mine placed under the obstruction in the tunnel, which had -prevented further progress. There came a dull _boom_, a whirl of air, and -then all was still. - -“Now, sir,” announced Hardy. “In the morning we shall see what we shall -see.” - -There was little sleep for any of us that night, and before dawn we were -ready for the descent. My crippled arm made the way arduous for me, but -it would have been doubly hard had not young Anderson lavished on me so -splendidly his surplus strength. Eagerly our party trailed along that -tunnel, led by Hardy and Van Dusee. - -The dynamite had done its work well, as the passageway, which ever -continued to descend, was entirely cleared. After journeying, as near as -we could judge, about three-quarters of a mile, we came to a turn which -appeared to be carrying us slowly upward and almost back in the direction -from which we came. - -I noted that our candles were burning brightly and that the air -remained surprisingly fresh. There was little conversation. Once Hardy -spoke abruptly to the halfbreed Gomez, who pressed forward a trifle -precipitately. - -The way grew suddenly light and I had about decided that the other end of -the mysterious tunnel would terminate at the surface, when there came a -cry from ahead. - -“At last!” shouted Van Dusee. - -We hurried forward, breathless with interest, and found ourselves -confronted by a high but very narrow stile, consisting of six steps of -some twenty-four inches each, and glaring down, with jaws wide-open -and huge paws outstretched immediately over the apex, was a towering -sculptured monster with brilliant green eyes. - -The sight of that crouching beast, obviously placed there as a guard, -was one to appall the stoutest heart. In turn, we passed under the -stupendous overhanging paws, all save Gomez, making way with a display of -confidence that we were far from feeling. - -In a moment our blinking eyes beheld that for which we came: a gigantic -cavern, nearly light as day. I think the wonder of that moment, as I -became accustomed to the peculiar radiance of the light and my eyes took -in the many evidences of an extinct, yet highly cultivated, life, will -never leave me. - -Row on row of seats in the form of a huge amphitheater lay in cathedral -silence before our fascinated gaze. At the sides there extended -beautifully-cut galleries, hewn out of the solid crystal rock and giving -mute testimony of a civilization at least as ancient as that of the -Greeks. Here and there the fresco-work was interrupted to give place to -heroic-sized figures in pure white marble as marvelously sculptured as -anything that ever left the mallet of Praxiteles. There were scores of -them! - -High above, I was interested to note that the ceiling was of the same -rock-formation that had crystal clearness, which accounted for the -plentitude of light, as I was certain we were not more than a hundred -feet below the surface. - -Slowly we began a circuit of that wonder-home of a lost people. To the -right lay a vaulted passage, and we came presently to that. It was darker -here, and young Anderson and I, detaching ourselves from the rest of the -party, made our way along it. We came soon to a circular series of highly -ornamented chambers. Anderson was slightly in advance of me, and as he -peered into the central and larger one of these I heard him draw in his -breath sharply. - -“Look at that!” he exclaimed, awe-struck. - -My eyes followed his into the beautifully tapestried room, and there, -seated in a high-backed, canopied, thronelike chair, extravagantly -adorned with glistening jewels, was the figure of a man! - -He was apparently in the full vigor of existence. The cast of his face -was Mongolian. _And he was smiling!_ - -It was too lifelike! We drew back. - -Then the certainty that he could not be living forced itself home; and -we entered that sacrosanct interior. Scores of highly-colored tapestries -were suspended from the walls, the exposed portions of which showed mural -decorations finer than any I had ever seen before and which, in tint and -conception, were essentially Oriental. - -Closer view of the man who smiled at us showed a skin texture which even -the most wonderful embalming could not conceal as that of death. - -Our sense of having profaned the regal place presently wore off, and -Anderson, as much, I fancied, from a nervous reaction as anything, moved -nearer to the figure and lightly tapped it with the bamboo stick he -carried. - -“How are you, old top?” he asked. - -An instant later the man, chair and canopy absolutely dissolved before -our eyes and lay on the raised dais in a small pile of dust through which -the numerous diamonds and opals gleamed at us like evil spirits. - -“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered. - - -_III._ - -The extent of the underground system seemed endless, as long, high-arched -corridors opened up in vistas before our astonished gaze. - -From another point I could hear the excitable Van Dusee, enraptured over -some new-found curio or work of art. Making careful note of our course, -Anderson and I pressed on, coming shortly to a rough, unfinished cavern -that glowed with sunlight as if exposed to the open sky. There came a -shout in my ear. It was from Anderson. - -“See!” he exclaimed. - -And well might he cry out, for in the center of the chamber lay piles -of delicately contrived golden goblets, mixed with hideous-jawed -dragons, flying-birds, pedestals of intricate pattern—all in gold! But -most astounding of all were the replicas of human figures in gleaming -yellow metal, some of them quite of life-size, others in miniature, that -tilted here and there among the shining mass—all of the most exquisite -workmanship, though many pieces were dented and broken; apparently the -mass had been allowed to accumulate by the addition, from time to time, -of defective pieces. - -However, one piece, the reproduction of a slender female figure just -budding into womanhood, about eighteen inches in height, lay quite near -us, as if unwittingly it had been dropped. Young Anderson picked it -up. The figure was heavy but quite perfect. In silent amaze we studied -that exhibit of a handicraft that surely would have brought a shout of -appreciation from Benvenuto Cellini, the great Italian goldsmith. - -I was about to stroll over to the pile of gold, when I heard the sound -of someone running. Then a man burst into the chamber. His entrance was -unseemly, and I turned to chide him. - -With difficulty I recognized the half-breed Gomez. His eyes were -dilated, his features transformed, as, mouthing unintelligible noises, -he ran toward that heap of yellow gold. - -If his appearance was terrifying, the shriek that now left his lips came -as a thing yet more awful. For before our gaze, while he was still a good -thirty feet from the gold, there was a spurt of smoke from the running -man, and he stumbled, curled up in a blaze of fire, and actually _burned -to death_! - -In my weakened condition my senses reeled at the sight and I caught at -Anderson for support. Hardy and Van Dusee were soon with us, and again -our worthy leader demonstrated his quick perception and resourcefulness. - -“Don’t move!” he commanded. “The place is full of death points!” - -A glimmering of his reasoning came to me, and I raised my eyes to what -constituted the ceiling of that extraordinary cavern. The answer flashed -to me that the artificers of the Ataruipe must have fashioned portions of -that wondrously clear crystal formation overhead into gigantic burning -glasses which, in that land of eternal sunshine, daily projected down -into the cavern focal points of condensed sun’s rays that were terrific -in their heat units. - -But Hardy was demonstrating, and we watched him. With a long bamboo the -ingenious chap _felt_ out the deadly heat points, each of which in turn -discovered itself by sending a spurt of flame from the end of the pole. - -Altogether, there were nearly fifteen of the deadly contrivances in that -cavern, none of which, with the exception of the most powerful one that -had killed Gomez, _being visible to the human eye_! - -The reason for this was that the focal point invariably centered about -five feet ten inches from the basaltic floor—the precise point where the -head of the ordinary man would be while walking. - -But if the discoveries made by Anderson and me were remarkable, those -of the rest of the party were equally so. Zangaree had stumbled into -a chamber evidently reserved for the woman of that lost people. Here, -mounted gems of unrivaled quality and size abounded, most of them proving -that the Ataruipe as jewelers were equally at home in precious stones and -gold. - -The apparel of the men in our party was filled to overflowing with the -scintillant fragments; Zangaree, in pure Afric joy, tossed a handful -into the air and in the unusual light of the cavern they sparkled like -fireworks as they fell. From the walls, lustrous opals flashed at us -their iridescent rays; there were gems underfoot, cleverly laid in -fantastic mosaics such as the mind of modern man never had conceived. - -It was all too overwhelming, and we were a sobered party indeed when -again we assembled for the very necessary purpose of outlining our future -plans. Of course, each one of us was rich, rich beyond the dreams of -avarice, and it seemed the end, or beginning of everything. - -I think that for the time being there was not a single one of us, -lounging there in the pit of that ghostly amphitheater, who gave a -thought to the long hard way we had come, or to the thousands of miles of -jungle and river that lay between us and the consummation of our desires. - -Night came on apace, and soon we found ourselves enveloped in a darkness -that was only saved from completeness by the trifling fire Hardy had -built. Van Dusee presently sprawled down at my side, and pulled at his -pipe, talked calmly, as I had never heard him talk before. For once the -entomologist was gone. The thing, our experience, had swept him off his -feet; his pet subject was forgotten; he had gained new orientation. - -“Such artists!” he breathed prayerfully. “Those sculptured women! That -exquisite miniature of Bobby’s! And all for what? To what end? Of what -avail? Ah! The futility of it!” - -And again he murmured, half to himself: - -“To think that a thousand, yea, two thousand years ago, these wonderful -people lived, breathed and had their being in this very place! What were -their thoughts, their pleasures—and what, in Heaven’s name, became of the -last of them?” - -I told him of our experience with the figure which at Anderson’s touch -had disintegrated so swiftly that the incident seemed like black magic. -And for the first time it occurred to me that, aside from the man I had -just described, none of us had seen a single skeleton or other evidence -of the human occupants. - -Van Dusee laughed shortly when I put my query. - -“We found their burying place, all right,” he said. - -“Where?” I asked. - -“Thousands of them,” his voice went on, and in the darkness it seemed -that I _must_ be dreaming; “rows on rows of them up in those interminable -galleries, each body—or what was left of it—in a handsomely woven basket, -with gold trimming. Hardy and I passed along touching an occasional one -for the striking effect of seeing it crumble into nothingness—as your -king did. Ah, the pity of it that poor Ericson did not live to see this!” - -Van Dusee’s voice droned on, and I fell asleep. I suppose I must have -lain there for several hours, getting only such rest as is granted to a -man with a recently-broken arm, when I awoke with a start. It was just -dawn. - -Hardy was on his knees, his rifle poised, and his keen eyes fixed on the -spot where the massive green-eyed dragon kept guard over the stile. He -signed to me not to disturb the others who still slept. - -In a moment I detected some moving object as it came down our side of -that guardian monster. It was a man! I glanced swiftly at those of our -group. They were all accounted for. This meant either that our trail had -been discovered from above, or that there were surviving Ataruipe—which -last was incredible. - -Even as my mind grappled with the problem, another figure followed -stealthily. Then Hardy’s gun spoke. The noise of the explosion seemed out -of all proportion. The first man ran a little, then suddenly bent over as -if hurt in the side. He was sliding to the ground when his follower ran -to his assistance. - -Hardy and I by this time were nearing the two strangers. The second man -was struggling furiously to get his companion up the steep stairway -beneath the dragon. Just as we came up, he succeeded with a final heave -in landing the wounded man on the top step of the stile. Hardy raised his -gun. I shouted: - -“Don’t shoot!” - -Then a dreadful thing happened. The apex-stone of the stair seemed -suddenly to sink beneath the combined weight of the two men. An instant -later, with the swiftness of thought, the gigantic paws of that stone -monster descended. They struck and crushed to death the two puny men who -lay beneath; one of the bodies disappeared over the other side. - -And as Hardy and I stared at this additional example of diabolical -ingenuity, the apex-stone reappeared and the paws, as if alive, slowly -began to elevate themselves to their original position, by some odd quirk -of fate, surely not contemplated by the builder, carrying with them the -body of the slain man that had remained. - - -_IV._ - -No more was necessary to advise us that _de_ Silva had stumbled onto our -blundering trail. - -The dead man, caught in that ghastly embrace, was a white whom Hardy -readily recognized as an associate of the evil Spaniard in Rio de -Janiero. - -Though we had been but twenty-four hours in the caverns of the Ataruipe, -we had observed no other sign of egress than the one that led to the -water hole. Nor, in fact, was there any reason to assume that the -original occupants found it necessary to go abroad very frequently. And -while it was likely there were other exits, yet in the vast system of -that underground world, with but a limited supply of food, it would be -folly for us to attempt to locate them. - -So it was that all of us felt we should at once attempt to make our -escape the way we had entered, even allowing for the probable attack -planned by _de_ Silva. - -First, therefore, we gave attention to that not unimportant matter as to -how much treasure we should take with us. It went without saying that -we planned a return with better transportation facilities, but that was -in the future and much beclouded by the uncertain course of the divers -persons in our band, once we were separated. Curious, indeed, was the -effect on the individual members of our party of this struggle between -cupidity and the instinct to survive the long journey home. - -Like drunken men, the half breed Castro and the Indians wandered around, -hopelessly mulling over the golden treasure there in such quantities for -them to take, and which, oddly enough, seemed to attract the Indians so -much more than the gems. - -Anderson and I stowed our pockets with diamonds and rubies and opals, -but the youth also clung to the miniature he had acquired on the first -day. The artist in Van Dusee, so long latent in this man of science, now -blazed forth with the fierce light of a falling star. Above all else, -he yearned for the party to carry to New York one of the surpassingly -beautiful heroic-sized female figures. For an hour he seriously -expostulated with Hardy, but received, I fear, slight sympathy from any -of us, as one of the statues alone must have weighed many hundreds of -pounds. - -Our lack of interest in his project left Van Dusee in a pet, and he vowed -finally that he would not remove a single article from the caverns. -Hardy, always in character, asserted that he intended to have both eyes -of the dragon guarding the apex of the stile, and in fact, actually did -ascend to the top step from which, by a daring feat of climbing, he swung -himself to the lower jaw and coolly proceeded to chisel the magnificent -emerald-eyes from their ancient sockets. All this within five feet of the -ghastly trophy as yet in the paws of the stone animal! - -About four o’clock in the afternoon we met for the last time in front of -the gigantic stone brute, his empty eye-sockets seeming to give him an -expression of increased ferocity as they bore down on us. - -Van Dusee, in a condition bordering on nervous breakdown, was begging -for just a little more time that he might get with his camera some final -views of the godlike stone images. So far as I know, the entomologist -actually had made good his word, for when we left the caverns of the -Ataruipe he did not have with him a single gem or bit of precious metal; -merely the camera with its recorded impressions. - -Presently Hardy took the lead over the fearsome stile. It had been -discovered that there was no danger from the massive paws so long as the -top stone did not receive more than what was equal to the weight of a -normal man. This Hardy had tested. Surely that contrivance was an example -of remarkable hydraulics! - -With Zangaree, he cautiously moved along the five-foot golden statue that -it had been decided to take to the surface; and, by dint of much easing -and shifting of the heavy object, the two men succeeded in getting it -safely past the trap-stone. - -As sick man of the expedition—and what expeditions do not have their sick -man?—I brought up the rear with Anderson. Busied with my own thoughts, I -failed to note that one of the Indians had dropped out. - -Keeping my eyes on Anderson’s back, just a step below me, I slid my scant -hundred and fifty-odd pounds (and thanked God for my light weight!) on to -the apex-stone, which was about four feet square and too broad to avoid -entirely. As I worked my way along, for I was sitting, I was horrified to -note a sinking sensation—the block of stone was descending! - -Then the air was filled with two shrieks: mine, as I flung myself from -that place of death, and the cry of a man _behind_ me. - -The terrific paws, cutting the air like rapiers, literally beheaded the -Indian, who had stolen back in his greed for more gold, and then, in -following me too closely, had entrusted his weight to the trap with mine. - -The gruesome tragedy depressed all of us, and I am certain we were -relieved when the immediate turn in the tunnel shut off from our view -the stone monster, then in the very act of elevating his two dreadful -paws and leering at us, I could swear, with living malignancy for the -desecration of his features. - -We had not proceeded far along the passageway when it became evident that -our enemies were waiting for us. - -The first indication was the different character of the air. It seemed -closer, and not to have any movement. The thought at once leapt into our -minds that very likely the entrance by the water-hole had been blocked. - -As time passed and we worked our way up the rather steep incline, there -could be no doubt about the situation. The thought was a terrifying one, -and we pressed on, eager to know the worst. - -When finally we stood at the end of the tunnel there was not a ray -of light from above. Wedged midway of the stair, reposed two of the -cuneiform stones that had first attracted my attention. Apparently -quantities of sand had been shoveled into the hole, for much of the fine -stuff had trickled on down the steps almost to our feet. - -Use of dynamite in that narrow way was, of course, out of the question; -imprisoned in the tunnel, we could not possibly live through the blast. -Hardy, therefore, set to work promptly to dislodge the stone. This was -dangerous for the reason that it was literally suspended over him as he -labored and if suddenly released it meant an avalanche that would be -certain to destroy him who stood beneath. - -The problem was cleverly solved by Hardy, who ascertained the location -of the “key” strain. He proceeded by inserting immediately above this -spot one foot of the golden statue we had lugged with us. Surely it was -sacrilege to use that triumph of the goldsmith’s art as a crowbar! - -But the statue nevertheless was effective as an instrument, as Hardy -attached a rope around the bust which projected to within ten feet of the -tunnel; and from this point of comparative safety the men put their full -weight on the rope. There followed a moment of intense strain, the golden -figure, of none too stiff an alloy, appeared to bend—and then it came, a -perfect welter of flying sand and debris that left us gasping. - -In a few minutes this cleared, and we could see Hardy grinning at us -through the blessed daylight that poured down that stairway once more. - -“Who’ll be the first to greet _de_ Silva?” he demanded. - -I recall heretofore setting forth a number of reasons why we decided to -attempt our escape via the water hole tunnel. It is my belief, on more -mature reflection, that with all my care I have failed to state the most -important one: that of the sheer desire of the majority of our party—a -desire that had been fed by the continued hounding _de_ Silva had given -us—to meet him and fight it out. - -At any rate, the manner in which Hardy answered his own question by -leaping up the stairway, afforded every evidence of how _he_ felt about -it. - -We followed closely. But nothing in the line ahead of me seemed to occur, -and to our astonishment, on gaining the surface, there was no one to meet -us. Soon we found the explanation, for not far distant lay the bodies of -a white man and an Indian. They were locked together in death, while a -rod farther on was the body of another Indian. He had been shot in the -back. Scattered about in the sand, evidently where the running man had -dropped them when hit, were numbers of brilliant gems. _They were gems of -the Ataruipe!_ - -In frank wonder, we gazed upon that indisputable proof that at least some -of the members of the _de_ Silva party, unbeknown to us, had got past the -fatal stile and explored a portion of the caverns. But where was _de_ -Silva? And what had become of the rest of his crowd? - -Our interest in this matter soon gave way to that far more important -problem as to the direction in which we were to move. In the apparel of -the dead Spaniard Zangaree discovered a compass, and while this seemed -almost heaven-sent, yet it did not tell us the way we had come. - -A final effort was made to dislodge from the debris the beautiful statue -which we had used as a lever, but it was solidly buried and we soon gave -over the attempt. Then, with little further discussion, we shoved off, -following the trail of the many feet that led to the east from where we -had found the gems in the sand. - -We had not gone far when it became evident that those ahead of us were -struggling with the transportation of heavy objects, which it was thought -might prove to be golden statues. The correctness of this surmise was -later borne out in a dreadful manner, for about four o’clock in the -afternoon we came upon one of the beautiful objects. It lay in the sand -and only a few yards away were three more dead men. Again two of them -were Indians and the third a white, the features of all three being -horribly slashed with the knives that had been used in the fighting. - -Night overtook us still on the trail of the _de_ Silva party, which now, -judging from the foot-marks, consisted of about six men. We slept well, -and at dawn pressed on. - -The unexpected happened—and it came as a glorious surprise—for by ten -in the morning we sighted signs of vegetation, and an hour later were -nearing the exact point of our departure into the desert the week before. - -This quick return drove home forcibly that near-tragedy of our four days’ -wandering in a desert which, after all, was comparatively small in extent. - -Once enabled to shield ourselves beneath the trees from the sun’s -powerful rays, Hardy appeared willing to permit us to loaf a bit, and -so it was that we whites had an opportunity to take stock of ourselves. -Poor Van Dusee was thin to the point of emaciation, and I verily believe -the man was wasting away as much from disappointment as from hardship. -Anderson, brilliant-eyed and lean, was the same enthusiast, while the -imperturbable Hardy seemed not to have altered a whit: he was the -identical, brick-red, level-eyed, well-fleshed individual that we had -first encountered in a cafe in Rio de Janiero in January. As for myself, -I must have looked bad, as my arm had given me constant pain. - -By this time we felt that _de_ Silva deemed our party to have been buried -alive in the Caverns of the Ataruipe, for he had not taken the slightest -pains to conceal his trail. Thus it was that the tables, in fact, had -turned. _We were now pursuing de Silva!_ - -No one of us voiced that thought, but that it was in the minds of each -there could be no doubt. Personally, I know that I did not care to -analyse my own attitude toward the cowardly Spaniard. I did not dare to! -But what remained unnecessary to phrase in words was that if _de_ Silva -did escape with his booty to Rio de Janiero, no one of our party would -have any opportunity to visit again the wonderland of the Ataruipe. And -this, especially to Hardy (for entirely mundane reasons) and to Van Dusee -(for the purely esthetic) was unthinkable. - -We pushed on, encountering fresh signs of the expedition ahead of us -which evidently, owing to the heavy treasure its members carried, was -making slower progress than we were. Very shortly we came through our -hard-won channel in the bamboos, and from then on we kept sharp lookout -for _de_ Silva. - -On our third morning in that interminable brushwood tract, while Anderson -was building a breakfast fire for which Zangaree and the Indians were -collecting dry wood, Van Dusee, who had strolled on a bit, called back to -us quietly: - -“In that bush over there to the right,” he said, “is a white man. He is -spying on us.” - -It was only a moment before Anderson and Hardy, guns in hand, were on -their way. I shouted a warning and followed more slowly. Suddenly Hardy -lowered his rifle, and when I came up both he and young Anderson were -silently regarding a bit of thick brushwood. - -And well might they stare, for there, leering out at us, through the -foliage, was the face of _de_ Silva. It was livid and ghastly, and a -number of vicious-looking red ants were moving jerkily around the face. - -Closer inspection was not needed to verify _de_ Silva’s decease; but as -the manner of it also concerned us we did. - -Immediately back of the brush in which had been thrust this shocking -exhibit there was evidence of a furious struggle. The Spaniard’s body -also had been knifed, as were the others, and this within comparatively -recent hours, as the fresh appearance of the wounds testified. - -There was no sign of his companions, and somehow the conviction took -form in our minds that _de_ Silva—a man who at one time, we learned -afterwards, had been a professor of mathematics—very likely the last -surviving white man in his party, had been set upon by the others and -murdered. - -But we had little time or spirit to expend in comparison for this -villain, who, after all, had received his just deserts, and soon we were -again on our way. The Indians ahead of us may or may not have suspected -our presence; at any rate, they were now making as good speed as we were, -in spite of the fact that they still clung to the heavy golden statue. - -We reached the vast primeval wood, without apparently gaining on them. -Our burning desire was to get to the river at least as soon as the -Indians so that that little matter of the possession of our canoes might -be definitely settled, for without the assistance of our light craft we -were, in the face of the rapidly approaching rainy season, doomed to -certain death amid the maze of that alluring yet deadly tropical fairy -land. - -We had spent one day in pushing on through the big woods, when a most -untoward event overtook us. That was the sudden and complete breakdown -of poor Van Dusee. Day by day, I had observed his failing strength and -I knew that it was on his nerve alone he had kept up with the rest of -us. Poor chap! He lay now at full length amid the vaulted silences of -those stupendous trees, babbling first of his beloved _hemiptera_ and -again of the profound art in the sculpturing of the Ataruipe. It was not -permissible to carry him, for the man was actually dying before our eyes. - -The pitiful sight was too much even for the hardened Hardy, whose eyes -once actually filled with tears as he regarded the form of the plucky, -devoted, defeated, over-idealistic man of science. At noon that day Van -Dusee closed his eyes for the last time, and we buried him as reverently, -but as quickly, as possible. No time was there now for sentiment. The -delay of six hours might ultimately prove to be our death warrant. - -All that unending night we drove on until at times it seemed that I -myself must follow Van Dusee. However, dawn came at last, and with it -the definite knowledge that Hardy had led us correctly, for there in the -distance lay the fringe of verdure defining the course of the river that -meant for us home and safety. - -In that moment we needed no spur, and very soon we came abreast of the -hiding place of our canoes. Zangaree, bounding ahead, disappeared into -the thicket. His black face reappeared almost immediately. - -No necessity for him to speak. His expression told. - -_Both canoes were gone!_ - - -_V._ - -In my hypersensitive condition a pall of black despair settled over me. -Here we were, rich beyond belief in precious gems and holding the key -of knowledge of fabulous, undreamed-of wealth—and yet about to die like -defenseless stricken animals! The irony of it! - -But it was not so with Hardy and Anderson. With great energy, they -searched the locality for traces of the miscreants (whom it had been -hoped we had passed in the night), and, finding traces of them still -fresh, set off in the manner of hounds in chase. - -The two men had not far to go, for in less than an hour they reported -back to us, procured more ammunition and led the way. So it came about -that, nearing them silently, we had our first view of the men who had -killed _de_ Silva. There were four of them, all Indians, hunched together -in a circle on the bank of the river. One of them was talking. To one -side, tilting rakishly against a tree, stood a three-quarter size statue -of exquisite proportions done in solid gold. - -There it was, prime art of the Ataruipe, pulled, hauled, carried and -dragged thither by an infinity of patience and endurance on the part -of those aborigines, who now gave no heed to the play of the sunlight -on that marvelous work of the goldsmiths; instead they were entirely -engrossed in their own affairs. Our canoes were not visible, but we -believed they were launched in the water, which at this point was placid -and deep. - -Hardy had just left us to get close to the river, when something, or -someone of us, moved with too little caution, for the next instant the -Indians were up, and, catching their treasure, ran down the bank of the -stream. In full cry, we followed. - -It has been said that the pen is mightier than the sword, and the -sentiment is as pretty as it is ancient; but of one thing I am certain -and that is, even in this enlightened age, the sword, allegorical and -actual, is a much swifter instrument than the pen. - -Much happened in the next thirty seconds. Our two canoes rode the water -near at hand. Into one of them two of the Indians, with the help of -a third, cast the gold statue, the first two following it with their -bodies. In a moment they reached midstream. But the canoe began to sink. - -Several shots split the air. I saw the two remaining Indians, now seated -in our other canoe, were shooting at Hardy and young Anderson. Their fire -was promptly returned. It proved deadly. Both Indians were hit, and the -canoe began to drift. - -Meanwhile, the Indians in the sinking canoe were fighting to shift the -heavy weight of the statue, which must have punctured the bottom. They -up-ended the figure precariously near the bow. The canoe listed suddenly, -going nearly under water, and in that same instant there was a flash and -into the murky stream shot the figure of gold. But none of us had eyes -for that, because our ears were being filled with a succession of horrid -cries. - -They came from the swimming Indians, who perished miserably. The river -was alive with crocodiles. - -Hardy always has maintained that even had we not recovered our own canoes -as we finally did that day, in time we could have located those of -_de_ Silva’s. But I have questioned it. That the Spaniard secreted his -canoes, without permitting the Indians to know their whereabouts, I was -satisfied; and this, it seemed to me, was confirmed by the fact that the -Indians had made so surely for our canoes, the location of which they -must have found when de Silva retraced his course to the point where -Ericson had been killed. All of which meant to me that the other canoes -were well-hidden, indeed. - -Of the long journey back to Itacoatiara, where we were to catch the -steamer, there is little to tell. Hardy attempted a rough valuation of -the gems and odd bits of gold that our expedition carried. On the most -conservative basis, it ran into the hundreds of thousands of dollars, and -there was really no telling what the wealthy collectors of unique stones -would be willing to pay for some of our gems, which were of a size and -clarity beyond description. - -Plans were discussed for a return to the Caverns of the Ataruipe next -year, and at Itacoatiara our two loyal Indians left us after having been -bound to secrecy by oaths as formidable and impressive as the ingenuity -of Hardy could make them. - -That the doughty Hardy himself considered this method of questionable -efficacy was evidenced by the droll expression of his eyes during the -mummery. He, in fact, was placing entire reliance on the inability of -the dull-minded fellows to find their way back even if they tried, -coupled with the knowledge that the faithful Zangaree, who was to leave -us but a short distance farther along, would be able to account for the -Indians until our plans for return were perfected. Castro, the remaining -half-breed, took the steamer with us for the long ride down the Amazon -River to Rio de Janiero, and presented a much more difficult problem. -There had never been a time when Hardy completely trusted the half-breed, -though it was true he had not once during the entire experience by word -or deed shown any sign of treachery. - -At the Brazilian capital Anderson and I went to a hotel, leaving our -companion to look after the half-breed. Hardy’s plan was frankly to go to -the officials and attempt an arrangement whereby the three of us, under -proper guaranties, might be authorized to lead an expedition in behalf of -“The United States of Brazil” to the Caverns of the Ataruipe. - -On the second day, and while no word yet had come from Hardy, our rooms -in the hotel were rifled in our absence and almost one-third of the gems -stolen. Anderson had deposited with the hotel proprietor for safe-keeping -his golden replica and a goodly share of our gems; the rest we had -secreted about our rooms or carried on our persons. - -We were totally unable to decide whether or not the thief had been -inspired by a knowledge of our treasures. It was true we had been -regarded curiously by many of the loungers about the hotel lobby and in -the streets, but no mention had been made of our experience. - -We were debating the advisability of reporting to the police, but were -rather hoping Hardy would come to us before we took this step. The -following day, a Tuesday, we were surprised to receive a visit from a -pompous-looking official. In hitchy English he informed us that as a -special favor he had come to advise _los Americanos_ that they were about -to be charged with the murder of one _de_ Silva, and that officers with -warrants were soon to be on hand. - -Then the gentleman grinned with surprising amiability, and added: - -“Ze next steamair for New York, she leave in three hour.” - -He still stood, hat in hand, saying nothing further. - -Suddenly it came over me what he wanted. _He was out for himself!_ - -Frequently since that incident, I have laughed at the quickness with -which Anderson and I leapt at his fat, smug person. In less time than it -takes to tell it, we had booted, hauled and dragged that chap out into -the hall, where Anderson finished him off with a neat black eye for good -measure. The flurry attracted attention, even on that tenth floor, and, -darting back into our rooms, young Anderson and I decided that it was -time for us to get out. - -We packed our stuff, and a few minutes later called at the hotel -office for our valuables. These were handed over to us with gratifying -promptness. Then we hailed a taxi and sped for the address Hardy had left -with us. - -Though we could not see that anyone was following us, still there was -much traffic in the streets, and we felt sure we were under constant -observation. At Hardy’s address we found a highly nervous old lady, who -was very deaf. With much difficulty, and repeated shouting of the name “H -A R D Y” we finally made her understand. - -She led us to his rooms up the stairs. Hardy was not there, nor was there -much of his belongings in evidence. The old lady left us and returned -after a bit with a book. This she handed to me, making signs that it was -from Hardy. - -Thumbing it quickly through, I found what we were looking for. The -message, folded and inserted between the pages of the book, was dated two -days previously. It ran as follows: - - “_My Dear Comrades: Castro, the half-breed, double-crossed us. - His cut-throat crowd, I have just learned, are now waiting - for me outside, and I am writing this note in the hope that - you will follow me up and find it. You must at once leave - Brazil. Castro has informed certain political hangers-on of - the treasure. These fellows have trumped up a charge against - the three of us of having murdered de Silva. In five minutes I - shall leave this room by the window in an attempt to escape. I - have never yet waited for a Spaniard to come and get me. I like - to go to him first._ - - “_If you don’t hear from me before Tuesday you may reasonably - assume that I have been done in. The game is big and they’ll - go the limit. DO NOT TRUST ANYBODY, not even the local - American consul. He probably is all right, but in this land of - ‘honest graft’ the trail leads to high places, believe me. Get - that boat for New York that leaves Wednesday at four in the - afternoon. Good-bye and good luck!_ - - “_HARDY._” - -I heard a sob from Anderson as we finished reading the missive. That the -indomitable Hardy had come to his end seemed incredible, and yet not only -had Tuesday gone by with no word, but this was Wednesday, and less than -three hours remained before the boat sailed, with our passage and berth -arrangements still to be made. - -Outside, our taxi, with its motor still running, waited for us, and if -ever mortal men were in a dilemma Anderson and I were those individuals. -Finally Anderson strode over to me, and, with a look in his eyes such as -I had never before seen, he said: - -“I can’t go and leave Hardy without making some effort to help him.” - -I gripped his hand. What a relief! It seemed almost as if already we had -rescued him—and yet there we were, two utter strangers in that great -South American city, with a band of conscienceless rascals after us, -backed by the power of the law! - -We started down the stairs where we observed the old house-wife. She was -reading a newspaper, which she now hurried to show us. And there, in a -comparatively prominent place, was the news that Hardy had been killed -in what was designated as a street brawl. Even our slight knowledge of -Spanish made that short paragraph all too intelligible. - -Into the taxi we hurried, with Anderson pinching my arm. - -I regarded him in surprise. - -“Different driver,” he said, nodding to the man on the front seat. - -I glanced sharply at the fellow, but could not say. - -“Let’s go on,” I murmured, “and trust to luck.” - -“You bet you!” returned the young man. “But there won’t be any luck about -it. We’ll try this.” - -When the chauffeur turned around for instructions he got them in forcible -and understandable proportions. Anderson’s revolver was within six inches -of his back. The man went white. - -“_A vapor!_ The boat!” ordered Anderson. - -The vigor of that driver’s assent was comical. His head rocked and bobbed -with eagerness. - -“_Si! Si! Madre de Dios!_” he exclaimed. - - * * * * * - -Several years have passed since the occurrence of the foregoing events, -and young Anderson since has married. In his nest of a home, to which I -am a frequent bachelor visitor in good standing, there is prominently -located a certain replica of a beautiful young female just budding -into womanhood. It represents the best in the art of the Ataruipe and -is regarded by the lady-of-the-house as perhaps just the least bit too -naturalistic. - -Among artists and archaeologists, however, it has inspired more -controversy than anything else in the present century. The trend of -opinion is that the figure is an extravagant but exceedingly clever bit -of modern work which is being foisted on a gullible public, ever too -quick to give credence to cock-and-bull stories of lost treasure such as -Anderson and I relate. - -They ask for the camera and photographs that Van Dusee had. We say that -we did not miss them until on the boat bound for New York; that they were -probably stolen from our rooms at the hotel in Rio de Janiero. - -They ask us for sight of some of the marvelous jewels. We show them some -of the smaller ones, but they tell us these are ordinary and may have -been acquired any place; and at their insistence for a view of the big -gems we are compelled to advise them that the package handed us by the -clever hotel clerk was a duplicate of the one we gave him containing -the select stones brought by us from the Caverns of the Ataruipe; that -we learned that it contained common pebbles some time before the port -officials at Rio de Janiero went through our effects, confiscating -everything they could find and seeming particularly happy at discovering -the package described so minutely in their search-warrant—the one the -scoundrel hotel clerk made up in imitation of Bobby’s wrapping, which we -had been careful to restore to its original appearance after discovering -the cheat. - -“Yes, but how did you save this beautiful statue if they got everything -else?” is the final thrust. - -And here Anderson lapses into silence, for the matter is a delicate one. -It involved thrusting the small package into the arms of a handsome -young lady who stood in the throng that curiously watched us come -aboard the ship at the last moment under the guardianship of numbers of -Brazilian officials, who hovered over us with the eagerness of flies. As -she caught Anderson’s eye and got the idea that leaped from it, I am sure -she giggled with delight at the ruse, for she was pure American. - -Once a year each of us receives a communication from Rio de Janiero that -purports to come from government officials. The letters are entirely -preposterous in their content—they read like the notorious Spanish -legacy letters so long the vogue of confidence men, and speak urgently, -earnestly—yea, almost beseechingly—of untold wealth that awaits us if -we will but come to Rio de Janiero and assist in the quest for the lost -Caverns of the Ataruipe. - -But we feel, young Anderson and I, that constant and continuous -governmental search must be going forward for the immense treasure; -and we feel, further, that in all fairness to the world at large that -wonderful collection of art material should be restored to humanity; but -we find it difficult indeed to see just why two Americans—even conceding -that their help might be of value, which is doubtful—should assist a -greedy and unjust officialdom that is absolutely guilty of the death of -the best guide and friend it was ever the good fortune of either of us to -have encountered. - -_Another story by JULIAN KILMAN will appear in the next issue of WEIRD -TALES. It is called “The Well,” and it’s a “creepy” yarn, warranted to -give you “goose-flesh” thrills._ - - - - -Woman Receives Poems from Spirit World - - -Seated in an Evanston drawing-room with some twenty other guests, Mrs. -John H. Curran of St. Louis wrote quaint poetry by the yard, all of -which, she claims, came from “Patience Worth,” who dwells in the land of -spirits. Mrs. Curran declares that she first made the acquaintance of -“Patience Worth” in July, 1913, while seated with a friend at a ouija -board. Suddenly the ouija wrote: - -“Many moons ago I lived. Again I come. Patience Worth is my name.” - -Since then, says Mrs. Curran, Patience has dictated to her numerous -poems, dramas and stories. Most of these are in archaic Anglo-Saxon. - -“It is as though you spoke through a wall to a person every day,” said -Mrs. Curran in explaining the apparent phenomenon—“a person who would -tell you his habits and customs. After several years of conversation, -you would know as much about that person as if he were in the same room -with you. So I feel about Patience Worth. I have never seen her, nor have -I tried to picture her, but since she often talks in Anglo-Saxon I have -concluded that she must have lived on the Scottish border about the time -of the Stuarts. She has given me stories in the language of the Bible, of -the Elizabethan age, the last century, and this. - -“It is not Spiritualism, and I am not a medium. I am perfectly normal -when I receive messages from the personality who calls herself Patience -Worth. In fact, I can converse with others in the room while she dictates -to me.” - -Then, to prove her point, Mrs. Curran rapidly recited a poem that she -claimed was sent from the spirit world. - - - - -Man Captures Lion, Barehanded - - -When Stanley Graham of Chicago goes lion hunting he needs no weapons save -his bare fists. Recently attacked by a mountain lion in a Mexican desert, -he jerked off his coat, flung it around the beast’s head and, after a -terrific struggle, choked it into insensibility. - - - - -_Here’s a Story So Unusual That You’ll Want to Read It Twice_ - -Vials of Insects - -_By_ Paul Ellsworth Triem - - -Closeted with the Surveyor of Customs were his chief inspector, -a clean-cut young fellow named Greaves, and a bullet-headed, -thick-shouldered man who went by the name of Burke. - -[Illustration] - -Burke was speaking: - -“There’s just two of ’em in on this job. One is Lee Hin, a Chink that -dresses like a white man and spends money like it was water. The other -is the man I got acquainted with and got the dope out of. His name is -Ward—Jerry Ward. He’s boatman and runner for Lee Hin. I’ve found out -that they’re intending to pull off a job in a day or two. We can make a -cleaning on them—get them with the goods on!” - -Chief Jordan, a florid old fellow with iron-gray hair and kindly, -observant gray eyes, regarded Burke with disfavor, as if he were -examining a particularly noxious variety of insect or reptile. He pursed -his lips and looked deprecatingly at his assistant. - -“What do you think, Charlie?” he asked. - -“We haven’t much to go on,” Greaves replied, his voice also tinged with -dislike. “If Mr. Burke would tell us a little more—” - -Burke shook his bulldog head and growled deep down in his throat. - -“You gents know as well as me that I’m taking my life in my hands as it -is. This Lee Hin is bad medicine. He’s got the craft of a Chink and the -education of a white man. If you’ll leave it all to me, I’ll frame things -so’s you’ll get your birds. If you don’t—” - -Mr. Burke clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth with an air of -finality. His furtive eyes were defiant, as if he perceived the disgust -his presence created. Moreover, there had been a dogged restraint and -circumspection in all that he said—carefully selecting his details, -presenting some which would serve his purpose, suppressing others which -might incriminate him. - -“All right.” Jordan whirled his chair toward his flat-topped desk. “You -keep in touch with Mr. Greaves here, and we’ll work with you. Of course -you’re after the reward—” - -Again Burke interrupted, doggedly, obstinately: - -“Not altogether, Chief. I could have made more by setting in with Lee -Hin. I’m an honest man, and I don’t take to this kind of job. But of -course I’ll accept whatever money there is in it.” - -Charlie Greaves escorted Burke to the outer office and, with a feeling of -relief, saw him depart. - -“Well, Charlie, this is one end of the business that I call nasty,” Chief -Jordan said, as the inspector re-entered the inner office. “I’d give five -dollars for a chance to kick that scoundrel all the way out of here and -down into the street!” - -“I’ll raise you five: I’d give ten!” Greaves replied. “Of course, he’s in -on this thing, but he’ll fix it so that we can’t do a thing to him!” - -Jordan nodded. - -“Sure! And we’ve got to take up with even a cur like this, when he has -anything definite to offer. All right—you keep tab on him and let me know -if anything develops.” - - * * * * * - -In Lee Hin’s shack two lights were burning. One was in the front room, -furnished with a square pine table (on which stood the first light) and -two steel cots covered with drab army blankets. - -The second light was in Lee Hin’s study, at the back of the shack. On -a high stool, before an enameled bench, which ran the entire length of -this second room, sat Lee Hin himself. He was clad in white, from head to -foot, and over his mouth and nose he wore a mask of padded cotton. - -The part of his face that was visible outside of this mask was keen -and animated. His dark eyes glowed, and there was a double furrow of -concentration between them. He was stooping over a glass slide, on which -he had just dabbed a drop of a milky culture from a test tube. He worked -fast, adding a minute drop of stain, then dropped a cover glass into -place and slipped the slide upon the revolving stand of his microscope. - -This done, Lee Hin looked up at the young man standing at the other side -of the room. - -“Better not come too close, Jerry,” the Chinaman warned, with a -singularly tranquil and impersonal voice. “You know—there is death in the -air of this room sometimes. I’m willing to risk my own life, but not the -lives of my friends.” - -In spite of the impersonality of his voice, there was a subtle magnetism -about the Oriental: a radiation of power, which marked him as a born -leader of men. His eyes warmed with the mellow light of friendship as he -raised them to Jerry Ward’s face. - -Jerry shuffled nearer the door, glancing suspiciously at the rows of -culture tubes stacked in orderly ranks at the back of the enameled bench. - -“I never can make out what the devil you want to tinker with them crazy -little bugs for, Hin,” he observed discontentedly. “If I had as much jack -as you got—” - -“Money is not all there is in life, Jerry,” Lee Hin interrupted. -“There is friendship—and service! I am doing this for my country. Her -fisheries represent a tremendous source of wealth. The fungology and the -bacteriology of fishes—it is an inexhaustible subject!” - -He paused, glanced keenly at his companion, then abruptly changed the -topic: - -“I see you have not changed your clothing, my friend. I know only too -well what that means. The _Shanghai_ is due in this evening. Jerry, can’t -you see how this is going to end? Let me tell you something: that false -friend of yours, Burke, is even now scheming to get the best of you. Do -you know what is in his mind?” - -Jerry shook his head, defiance and wonder in his eyes. - -“I will tell you. He has fallen in love with Irene—with your girl. In his -malignant pig brain, he is thinking how he can get you out of the way. I -can feel it whenever he comes near—he radiates hatred like a pestilence!” - -Jerry laughed uneasily. - -“You’re buggy, Hin,” he replied. “Burke won’t try to put no Indian sign -on me—he daresn’t. He’d pull himself in, if he shoved me!” - -Lee Hin turned to his microscope. - -“What is willed to be, will be,” he observed sententiously. “No man can -overcome his destiny.” - -Jerry tiptoed out of the room presently, much after the manner of an -embarrassed gentleman with a hiccough trying to get quietly out of -church. He felt ill at ease. There was something about Lee Hin—— - -He reflected, as he seated himself on the bench outside of the shack -and stared out toward the open sea, that this Chinaman was a novel sort -of employer. During the six months or better that Jerry had worked for -him, pulling the oars in the skiff while Lee Hin fished with variously -baited hooks at the end of his long, sea-green line, the Chinaman had -never given him a curt word or an uncivil order. He had treated Jerry -as an equal, discounting the white man’s early dislike of Orientals and -his later uneasy recognition of Lee Hin’s intellectual superiority. From -that first moment to the present, there had been an impersonal gentleness -about the Chinaman that had reduced Jerry to a position of almost -worshiping obedience. - -Only on one matter had there been any disagreement between them: Lee Hin -felt strongly on the subject of opium smuggling. He would not positively -forbid the young fellow to mix in this illegal traffic, but he was -gradually bending him to his way of thinking, as much by his silent will -force as by his occasional incisive criticism. - - * * * * * - -Night had fallen, and with it a fog shifted over the rocky shore and out -upon the broad channel. Yellow lights flashed here and there, and the -mournful voice of the fog signal kept up its doleful iteration. - -Jerry shook himself and peered down toward the little cove. His skiff lay -there on its side, well above the reach of the rising tide. - -Through the mists there came a low, resonant, deep-throated whistle. -Jerry stood up abruptly and entered the front room of the shack. From -one corner he took a lantern with a strip of red bunting tied over the -chimney. This he lighted and carried down to where the skiff lay. On the -end of a six foot stake, with a forked end, Jerry hung the lantern. Then -he took from his pocket an electric flashlight, snapped it a few times to -be sure bulb and battery were in good condition, and finally returned the -flashlight to his pocket and pulled the skiff down into the water. - -Five minutes after he had pulled away from the shore, he would have been -invisible to anyone standing at his point of departure. The skiff was -painted a slate gray; and, save for the whitish blotch of the man’s face -in the darkness, there might have been nothing there but a partially -submerged log floating out to sea. - -The whistle came again, much nearer. Between the skiff and the shore -the cough of a motor boat sounded. Jerry let his oars rest, with their -dripping blades an inch above the water. The launch passed on, and he -resumed his rowing. - -The fog lifted. He could see it hanging over the distant city, a lurid, -angry glow where the illumination of the streets struck against it. - -Now the lights of the steamer showed in the darkness, high above the -water, moving silently and majestically down upon the man floating there -like a chip—— - -Jerry threw his weight against the oars. The steamer was almost upon -him. He sent the boat back its own length, measured with one keen glance -the distance he had allowed for clearance, and took from his pocket -the flashlight. The _Shanghai_ was opposite the spark of red that -indicated the position of the lantern on the shore when Jerry flashed his -signal—three short flashes and a longer one. - -Next moment he had caught up his oars. From a port hole high above -there shot a dark object which swooped down and struck the water with a -smashing impact; two other bundles followed it. - -The ship continued on its way, but at three points on the dark water -a tiny glow showed where the cork-buoyed packages of smoking opium -were floating. To each had been attached a small glass tube containing -phosphorus, invisible at any great distance, but easily distinguished by -the man in the boat. - -Jerry pushed the skiff forward with sturdy breast strokes. He reached -over the side for the first of the packages and hauled it in. Another -stroke carried him within reach of the second bundle. - -He was just about to seize it when a warning sound reached him—the cough -of a gas engine. In a flash he remembered the launch which had passed -seaward close to shore. They had taken advantage of the same darkness -that had protected him. - -A light blazed out—the search light of the revenue boat. - -In that instant the young man thought of his mother, old, placid, -credulous, to whom he had told fairy stories to account for the money -he gave her so prodigally at times. And he saw the dark eyes and the -oval face of a girl—his girl, Irene—and the face of Lee Hin, serene -and impassive as if carved of ivory. It was Lee Hin who had warned him -this very evening; and warned him of the business itself, and of Burke, -Jerry’s associate in it. - -As if it had been a spectre, summoned by this racing thought, a face -stood out of the darkness ahead: the red, threatening face of Burke, -standing at the shoulder of another man in the prow of the launch. - -“That’s him!” Burke was saying, in his hoarse, growling voice. “Look out -for the dope—” - -Jerry gripped an oar and swung himself to his feet. He cast a burning -look upon the informer. - -“You dirty dog—” - -The nose of the launch rose on the swell. As it came down it caught the -forward end of the skiff under its sharp keel. - -In the same instant there was the _crack_ of a pistol, and Jerry pitched -from his skiff into the water. Burke, the gun still quivering in his -hand, stared over, searching the glistening surface of the tide. - -“Take that gun away from him!” a voice from the rear of the launch -commanded. “He had no business to shoot—” - -“I did it in self-defense!” Burke growled. “In another moment he would -have got me with that oar! Get a move on, you fellows! Grab that package! -We’ve got to get ashore before Lee Hin makes his getaway!” - -But when they came to the shack of Lee Hin, ten minutes later, the lights -were out and the place was deserted. - -The Chinaman was gone. - - * * * * * - -On the money he had saved from his profits in opium running Burke was -able to travel north in first-class style. He sojourned for a time in -Canada, then went east and visited New York. - -He told himself he was through with dope. Every man’s hand was against -the drug-runner, while the vender of good moonshine or smuggled liquor -was looked upon as a public benefactor. No more opium for him—he would -become a bootlegger. - -He stayed in New York ten days, and discovered that the business he had -contemplated entering was organized like a trust or a shipping pool, and -that to enter it he must have “real money.” His little roll, which he had -looked upon with considerable complacency, was reduced to microscopic -size by comparison with the financial resources of these eastern -operators. - -Burke cut his New York visit short. Memories were stirring uneasily -within him—the face of a dark-eyed girl, which flashed upon him sometimes -out of the dusk, and the smell of fog blowing gustily down Market Street. -There was nothing like that in the East. He went to Chicago. - -In Chicago he stayed two days. He had purposed to remain at least a week, -but on that second day a feeling, which had come to him before, returned -with increased energy. It was what Burke called a “hunch.” - -“That little dame is thinking about me,” he growled down in his burly -throat. “She’s forgetting that scut, and I’m going back! I got a hunch -she’ll treat me right, now that she’s forgotten him!” - -Three nights later Burke was standing on the upper deck of the Oakland -ferry, looking with ferocious tenderness at the lights of his native -city. The clock in the tower of the Ferry Building showed that it was -still early; but a powdery fog was blowing down street, making it seem -late. - -Burke secured a room at a waterfront hotel. He scrubbed and groomed -himself, anointed his hair with perfume, and presently sallied forth. He -was going to test that hunch of his. - -He journeyed to an outlying residential district. Down a side street he -tramped stolidly. He turned a corner—and hesitated. - -There, a few doors away, was the apartment house. He slipped along to the -tradesmen’s entrance and stepped into its sheltering gloom. He didn’t -feel exactly comfortable. He had pictured himself going boldly up to the -door and ringing the bell. Now he decided to wait a while—to reconnoiter. - -People came and went—elderly people; children; occasionally a girl whose -half perceived figure brought him forward, tense and breathless. Then -as he was starting toward the entrance of the apartment, the girl he -was hoping yet fearing to see came down the street from the opposite -direction, passed within five feet of him, and went into the house. She -had not seen him, but he had seen her. - -Burke realized that the impression of that pale, sorrowful face would be -with him till he died. - -He left his retreat a few minutes later and walked slowly away. He could -feel the perspiration trickling down his forehead into his eyes. His -heart pounded steadily at his ribs. - -Burke decided, without thinking much about the matter, to walk the -two miles back to his hotel. He struck off down a street lit with -old-fashioned gas lamps, whose straw-colored flames gleamed green and -witchlike in the eddying fog. He had steadied down to his habitual pace, -and had no premonition to look behind him. If he had only had one of his -hunches now.... - -But he didn’t. Perhaps it would have made little difference, in any case; -for the lithe figure, which had detached itself from the shadows of a -vacant lot across from the apartment house as Burke departed, blended -easily with the gloom of the late evening. - -He returned to his hotel, somewhat reassured by his walk. His blood -tingled and he felt thoroughly alive. He even grinned to himself as he -took his key from the night clerk and went up to his room on the second -floor. He had had a case of “nerves,” that was all. - -“Damned if I don’t think I’ve got kind of out of the habit of breathing -this fishy night air,” he told himself, with heavy jocularity. “Well, -something give me the creeps, for sure!” - -He closed his window and latched it securely. He had already locked his -door, and now he braced a chair under the knob. There was no transom—no -other opening through which a breath of night air could come, except a -rather wide crack beneath the door. - -He ignored this. - - * * * * * - -Fifteen minutes after Burke had locked himself into his room, the figure -of a young Chinaman might have been seen journeying up Clay Street. - -The face of this Chinaman was not an ordinary one. The lips were -thin and passionless. The eyes were inscrutable. There was something -imposing—something of impersonal power—in the serene and almost pitying -expression of that yellow, mask-like face. - -The Chinaman wore a loose-fitting silk blouse and silk trousers, and -thick-soled felt slippers and a black silk cap. His arms were crossed -over his chest, and his hands were concealed in the wide sleeves. He -walked with his head bowed, evidently in deep thought. - -Instinctively, he followed his rather devious way until it brought him to -a basement door, opening off from an obscure alley. Here he let himself -in with a great brass key. - -Once inside the room, he paused to shut and lock and finally to bar the -door before turning on a light. It was a low-ceiled apartment of unusual -extent, so that its farther walls were lost in obscurity. It was warm, -almost steamy; and there was a pungent smell as of seaweed, and the salt -wind from the ocean. - -A bench with a white-enameled top was built against one wall. This bench -was covered with racks for test tubes and culture bottles, and with -bell-jars, reagents, stains, a compound microscope with a revolving stand -and other apparatus of various sorts. - -The newcomer crossed over to this bench and selected a wide-mouthed vial, -into whose neck he fitted loosely a pledget of absorbent cotton. He -placed the bottle on the bench, convenient to a high stool on which he -evidently intended to seat himself. - -Next he selected a surgeon’s forceps with long, thin points, and, with -this in his hand he crossed over to a keg placed on a wooden bench in a -corner of the room. The light, though dim here, sufficed to enable him -to peer down through the netting that covered the keg and to perceive a -myriad of filmy creatures which clung to the under side of the netting. - -Deftly he raised the netting at one side, thrust his hand, armed with the -forceps, underneath, and clipped one of the captives by its black-veined -wings. Replacing the netting, he crossed over to the bench and seated -himself on the stool. - -With the precision of one accustomed to the handling of minute objects, -he selected from a rack in front of him a tube, plugged with cotton and -partly filled with a milky, clouded fluid. Still holding the little -creature he had taken from the keg by its captured wings, he removed the -cotton stopper from this culture tube, dipped a tiny glass rod into the -turbid fluid within, and applied the rod to the head of the captive. He -then placed the latter in the wide-mouthed vial, replaced the cotton -stopper, and returned to the miniature rain-barrel for a new specimen. - -It was slow work, but the man at the bench performed every action with -a machinelike regularity and an unrelaxing attention that showed the -importance he attached to it. At the end of half an hour he had two dozen -prisoners in the vial. He held them up toward the light and crooned -gently to them: - -“Little friends—little angels of justice! Justice? But how may I be sure—” - -He laid the vial gently down and stood looking at it. His lips moved. -Then his eyes lighted, and hastily he turned and selected another vial, -the exact counterpart of the one he had filled with the “little friends.” - -Equipped with this second vial and the forceps, he returned to the keg -and presently he had placed in it a score or so of untreated insects. -He placed the two vials side by side, arranged the cotton which filled -the necks so that it furnished no clew to the identity of the bottle -containing the original captives, and finally he closed his eyes and -shuffled the vials swiftly about. - -When he had finished this queer juggling of the bottles, the Chinaman -betook himself to a distant part of the basement, and from behind a -piece of striped ticking, hanging against the wall he took a bundle of -clothing. Quickly divesting himself of the garb he wore, he changed into -this new costume. It was a dilapidated suit, such as might have been -worn by a Chinese laundryman in indigent circumstances. - -Next he secured some newspapers, which he folded in such a way as to -approximate the size of laundered shirts. He placed six of these dummy -shirts on a sheet of wrapping paper, folded the latter neatly, and tied -it. Returning with this package to the bench, he wrote the name “Burke” -clumsily on it with a soft leaded pencil, and, after it, some Chinese -characters. - -All this time he had resolutely refrained from glancing at the two -vials, but when the package was ready he moved backward along the bench, -fumbling behind him till his slim hand encountered one of the bottles. - -Without glancing at it, he placed it carefully in an inner pocket of his -ragged blouse, tucked the bundle under his arm, crossed to the door, and -turned off the light and went out. - - * * * * * - -The night clerk of the Great Eastern Hotel, many of whose patrons were -sea-faring men, was accustomed to seeing Chinese laundrymen delivering -special orders of shirts and underwear at all hours of the day and night. -He therefore glanced negligently over his shoulder when a meek voice -hailed him from the counter: - -“I say, Bossy Man—you sabe Captain Buck? Him come all same today?” - -“Captain Burke? All right, John—you’ll find him up in two-one-seven, -street side, back of the hall. He’s in his room now.” - -The Chinaman shuffled away, went padding up the stairs and down the long -hall, and found the door of two-one-seven. Here he paused and considered. -He must make no mistake. - -He tried the door softly. It was locked, of course. Then he knocked and -raised his voice, speaking English in a way that would have startled the -night clerk: - -“Is this Mr. Peter Fitzgerald’s room?” - -A rumbling growl ended in a curse. - -“No, damn your silly eyes, it ain’t! Get away from that door!” - -The Chinaman muttered an apology and retreated audibly. Half way down -the hall he stopped, took the vial from his pocket, and returned to -two-one-seven. - -Noiselessly he approached the door and knelt down. He removed the pledget -of cotton from the neck of the bottle and by the light of the hall lamp -gently blew each tiny insect under the door as it was shaken clear of its -glass prison. - - * * * * * - -Half an hour later, Lee Hin undressed and climbed into bed in the little -chamber adjoining the basement laboratory. - -Just before he snapped off the light, he took a pledget of cotton out of -the neck of a wide-mouthed bottle and shook from the latter a score or so -of buzzing insects. - -“Little friends!” he said gently. “May the spirit of justice which rules -all things—which holds the suns in their appointed orbits as they swing -through infinite space, and which guides the destinies of the tiniest -insect—may the God of all good men, of Moses and Confucius, decide—and -strike through you!” - -Then he turned out the light and went placidly to bed. - - * * * * * - -Burke slept but poorly that first night after his return. - -He was just dropping into a doze when some blundering fool knocked at -his door by mistake; and after Burke recovered from the rage which this -incident occasioned, a mosquito buzzed down out of the ceiling and bit -him on the neck. He killed the insect with the first slap; but a few -minutes later, just as he was again becoming drowsy, another bit him -under the eye. - -After that it seemed to him that the room was full of mosquitoes. He made -up his mind that his nerves were playing him tricks. There couldn’t be so -many of the tormenting insects in one room! He had seen none during the -evening. He must be imagining half of it—but there were the bites! - -It was nearly three o’clock before he finally fell asleep. And he slept -like a drugged man till late in the morning. - -When he got up and looked at himself in the glass, he was furious to find -his face disfigured by three great purple bites. There were at least a -dozen others on his body, but those he didn’t mind. He was thinking of -the effect of these disfigurements on the girl, whom he had resolved to -see tonight. - -He killed half a dozen blood filled mosquitoes, perched heavily in the -window, and tramped downstairs to berate the clerk. - -The clerk listened to him with gathering wrath. - -“Mosquitoes your grandmother!” he snarled. “We never have no mosquitoes -in this house! I shouldn’t wonder if you had the itch. You better find a -room somewhere else!” - -Burke looked ferociously at him, but the clerk returned the glare with -interest. Not for nothing had he run a water-side hotel for ten years. He -knew how to meet threat with threat. Burke went out and ate breakfast, -for which he discovered he had little appetite. - -He put in most of the day walking the streets, thinking of his -grievances, and treating his mosquito bites. He bought a bottle of lotion -from a druggist. The latter eyed the bites dubiously. - -“Those mosquitoes must have been some snapping turtles, friend!” he -commented. “They look more like tick bites. You’d better take something -for your blood—some of this compound—” - -Burke seized the lotion he had paid for and dashed from the store. His -head ached. Plainly, everyone was mad—everyone but himself. - -For a time, during the middle of the day, the mosquito bites seemed to be -getting better; but Burke continued to apply the lotion, and to inspect -himself in the glass. - -He would be fairly presentable by night, at this rate. - -It was about four o’clock when he became aware of a shooting pain -radiating from the bite he had first received—the one on his neck. He -jumped up and ran to the looking-glass. The thing had puffed up like a -walnut, and had turned an angry purplish color. - -Feverishly, Burke applied more lotion. He made a compress with a wet -towel and wrapped it around his neck. Hardly had he accomplished this -when he perceived that another of the bites was swelling and growing -painful. Within an hour and a half, he had a dozen of these inflamed -places. - -Burke realized that he would have to put off his visit to the girl until -next day. Probably the druggist was right—his blood was too thick. He -must buy a bottle of that stuff—that compound. He had been drinking too -much bootleg whisky. - -He went to bed early. The thought of food nauseated him. He sank into a -heavy slumber, from which he was aroused by a voice in the room. - -It was a thick voice, repeating long, meaningless strings of words. Burke -tried to sit up to listen, and the voice ceased. He was not able to raise -himself, however. Something was wrong inside his head.... - -It was some time later that Burke discovered that the flat, babbling -voice was his own! It rose to a scream, then shifted into a screechy -laugh.... - -Strange faces were bending over him. There was a man with a pointed -beard, who looked at him with pursed lips. This man was speaking: - -“I never encountered a case of the kind before. I would call it anthrax, -but for the number of the primary lesions. The interest is purely -academic, of course. He’ll be dead within twelve hours. Has he had any -visitors? Any way you can find out if he has any relatives or friends?” - -With a strange detachment, as if he were already a spirit, Burke -listened. The night clerk was speaking: - -“There has been no mail for him, and no visitors—except a Chinaman, who -brought him a package of laundry. I guess he’s a stranger—” - -Burke’s face became purple, and his body drew itself into a great knot. -_A Chinaman to see him!_ Laundry—he had had no laundry! - -Suddenly he understood. Perception shone through him like a searchlight. - -_A Chinaman never forgets! Lee Hin_— - -He tried to shout the name. He must get his accusation into writing— - -In the act of sitting up to demand paper and pen, he was caught up into a -great darkness. He fell heavily back upon the bed. - -“Syncope!” said the man with the pointed beard. “I must write up this -case for the National Medical Journal.” - - * * * * * - -Lee Hin, looking upon the last scene in the drama, meditated deeply. - -“No man can escape his destiny,” he mused. - -The last shovel of dirt was thrown over the mound, and the man who threw -it deftly patted it into place with the rounded back of his spade. - -Lee Hin walked gravely away. He passed along a graveled path and -approached a distant part of the cemetery. 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She taught the first grade pupils in the little community, and -they literally worshipped her. - -“If you will give me only a little more time, I am sure that I can get -the money,” she continued, and then waited anxiously for the wizen-faced -man to reply. - -“No, sir!” the latter answered roughly, as he rubbed his hands together -and frowned upon the girl. “Business is business! I’ve been wanting that -house of yours for several years, and now I’m going to have it, unless,” -he smiled grimly, “you bring in the money to pay off the mortgage by -tomorrow morning.” - -“But please, Mr. Seaman, I have no money! Mother’s illness has taken -everything I had and more, too, but if you will wait just a little -longer....” - -“That will do! That will do!” the old man spoke in a rasping voice. “I’ve -been too good to you already. And, then, there’s that little shack at the -other edge of the village. You can move into that. It won’t hurt ye.” - -“But I tell you that mother is too ill to be moved!” the girl spoke -desperately. - -The shriveled old man waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. - -“Haven’t you any sympathy at all?” the young woman asked in one last -appeal. - -“_Sympathy?_ Bosh! That’s all foolishness! It leads to bankruptcy. That’s -what I always used to tell your father before he died, but no, he could -not see it that way,” the old man spoke with infinite sarcasm. “Now don’t -disturb me any longer. There’s the door!” and he waved a claw-like hand -in its direction. - -The girl stood irresolutely a moment, while her face alternately flushed -and then grew pale. She felt once as if she could murder the heartless -old skinflint as he sat at his desk. There was no way to get the money, -and she perceived that she was absolutely in the hands of this merciless -creature. With rage and despair consuming her spirit, she left the room. - -The next day the girl and her invalid mother were forced to leave their -cozy little home, and move into the damp, decaying house at the other end -of the village. Neighbors insisted that the sick woman come into their -homes, but even in her illness the invalid was too proud to do so. - -Two weeks later the suffering of the poor woman was at an end. Out in the -cemetery a haggard girl watched the lumpy, half-frozen clods of earth -fall down upon the casket and shut in forever the body of her loved -one. She did not leave with most of her neighbors who had attended the -funeral, but stood silent, watching the swiftly filling hole. - -Her eyes were dry. There were no tears left to soothe her. She had wept -at the words of the minister, but now she had ceased. A fierce bitterness -filled her heart. - -When the mound had been finished, the pastor gently touched her arm, -intending to lead her back to the carriage. But the girl fiercely shook -off the friendly hand. - -“Leave me alone!” she said. - -“But, it is damp and cold, and I want you to ride back home. All the -other vehicles have gone.” - -“I can walk,” she answered shortly. - -The minister regarded her a moment and decided that it might be best to -let her remain. He began to retrace his steps toward his conveyance. -Reaching a bend in the road, he looked back, but the solitary figure was -still standing motionless. - - * * * * * - -By most of the villagers Mr. Seaman was considered to be the stingiest, -most tight-fisted old skinflint that ever lived. The older he became, the -more his mercilessness seemed to increase. Even the dogs—when they saw -him coming down the street—got out of his way. - -The old man lived in a small ramshackle cottage at the edge of the -village, and no one ever visited him there. He had a little office above -the local bank, and it was in this that his callers found him when they -wished to adjust money matters. - -For several weeks the old man had been feeling a peculiar numbness all -along his right side. At first he paid scarcely any heed to it, but it -did not go away. As a result, he began to pinch his right leg every -morning to see whether he was any better. He could notice no improvement, -and as time passed, he believed that he was getting worse. - -“I suppose it’s just because I’m gettin’ older’n I used to be,” he -thought, but this did not comfort him at all. - -As a consequence, he determined to consult the town’s physician, and -although he regretted wasting his money in this manner, he went up to see -Dr. Jackson. - -The physician told him that it acted very much like paralysis, and that a -complete numbness of his whole body might result. Although this might be -gradual, he said, it could occur at a sudden stroke. - -The doctor did not try especially to allay the old man’s fears, for he -shared the popular feeling toward the miser, and he saw that he was very -susceptible to suggestion. - -Seaman came away very much frightened. He did not appear to fear death -itself, strange as this would seem. Perhaps it never occurred to him that -his paralysis might be fatal. What really terrified him, however, was -the idea that he might be rendered incapable of making either movement -or sound, and that then he would be buried alive. This thought of being -locked up in a coffin while he was not actually dead, haunted him day and -night. - -In his sleep he would dream of being locked within a casket, unable to -utter a word, yet comprehending all that went on around him. He could -hear the dirt fall shovelful after shovelful upon the box in which he was -imprisoned. He could feel the air becoming oppressive. - -Then he would swing his arms sideways, only to find himself shut in. He -would kick, and endeavor to lift the lid, but six feet of damp earth -would be crushing it down against his feeble efforts. He would beat -frantically upon the encircling boards, but the hard-packed earth would -muffle the sound. He could feel the pitch-blackness of his stifling tomb. - -He could not see. He had used up almost all the air within his narrow -coffin. He could imagine the grave-diggers walking around complacently -several feet above him. If he could only make them hear! He was -smothering—buried alive! - -With a scream of horror he would waken, and lay panting, as he tried to -recover from his nightmare. But he could not entirely push these dreams -away, for he knew that there might be some truth in them. He had already -seen an article in a magazine telling of just such a case. He decided -that he must find the article again. - -Searching for several hours through the pile of magazines which he kept -stacked within one of his small rooms, he at length came upon the story -which he had been seeking. Although it frightened him, he could not help -reading it again. - -He learned that for some reason the buried man had been dug up a few -weeks after his interment, and when the casket had been opened, the dead -man was found lying on his stomach with one hand clutching his scalp, -from which most of the hair had been torn off. - -Fascinated by the horror of the tale, he found himself reading it again. -He could not help himself. For the remainder of the night he would lie -thinking of the possibility that he himself might be buried alive. - -In the daytime he was obsessed with this same thought. Even while he -walked down the street to his office—and he found it more difficult to -do so each day—he could clearly imagine himself so paralyzed that the -neighbors might take him to be dead. Mentally he could see them gathering -around his bedside. He could feel them lift him into the casket. He could -feel himself driven to the cemetery, and lowered into the cold ground, -all the while powerless to cry out or show in any way that he still -lived. This idea almost smothered him, even while he was wide awake. - -He grew haggard because of his fear, and would go about the town -muttering to himself, and occasionally flinging out his arms, as if to -push off something that seemed to be enveloping him. People thought -that he was going crazy, and, indeed, his actions tended further to -substantiate their judgment, for he grew more queer from day to day. - -At last he went back to see Dr. Jackson, and confided his fears to him. -The latter only laughed, and told him not to worry for the townspeople -would not bury him before he was entirely dead. - -“Anyway,” the Doctor added, “the embalming fluid will kill you if you -aren’t dead already.” - -“No! _No! No!_” screamed the terrified old man. “I won’t be embalmed! I -won’t be embalmed!” and his voice rose more shrilly at each repetition. -“Promise me that you won’t let them embalm me!” he demanded, and his eyes -shone wildly. - -The Doctor began to place credence in the reports of the town’s gossips -concerning the old man’s madness. - -“But every one’s embalmed nowadays,” he explained. - -“But I don’t want to be!” the miser said fiercely, as he began to -shudder. “I might not be dead for sure, and if I were not embalmed, then -I could come to life again.” - -The Doctor finally promised that he would not permit the poisonous -chemicals to be placed within the old man’s veins, in case the latter -should die. - -“Now there is something else I want you to promise me,” the miser went -on. “I have been dreaming that I shall be buried alive. Oh, but I have,” -he added, as the Doctor began to shake his head. “If I were buried in the -usual manner and should wake up ...,” here he trembled, and a look of -horror spread over his face. “But I won’t be buried that way!” he yelled -in a frenzy. “Promise me that you will do as I say,” he exclaimed in a -tone that expressed a mixture of both command and entreaty. - -“Well, what is it?” the Doctor asked curiously. - -“I’m going to have a bell placed near my grave with a rope leading down -into my coffin, and then, if I revive, I shall pull the cord, and ring -the bell.” - -“But who would hear it?” Dr. Jackson asked, as he vainly strove to check -a smile. - -“Oh, there is a farm house not far from the cemetery, and somebody there -could hear it, and come and dig me up.” - -“You’d smother before they could ever get to you,” the Doctor objected. - -“No! No! I have everything planned, and I have it written down so that -you can do it just as I wish. I’ll pay you now for your trouble,” and he -handed the Doctor a fifty-dollar bill. “Promise me that you will do it,” -he pleaded. - -Dr. Jackson, thinking it all to be nonsense, nevertheless promised, and -the miser slowly hobbled off. - -The Doctor thought it all a good joke, and the news soon spread about the -village. - -“And to think,” the Doctor said to a group of men standing in front of -the little drug store, “the old tight-wad gave me this fifty to see that -his fool notions were carried out,” and he showed them the bill. - -The old man was the object of a great many jokes during the ensuing -weeks, but he himself was feeling much more at ease to think that the -Doctor had pledged himself to carry out his wishes. - -The miser’s right leg, however, was growing more and more numb. Each -morning he would pinch it to see if there were any feeling left. It -became very difficult for him to walk; so he decided to supervise, -personally, the erection of the bell. - -It was a large iron one much like the ordinary farmhouse dinner bell -which the rural housewife uses to notify the men in the field that dinner -is ready. The old man had it fastened on a post, which was set in the -ground near the spot which he had chosen for his grave. - -The time finally came when the shriveled figure of the miser did not -appear upon the street, and investigation revealed him lying upon his -bed, almost wholly paralyzed. Doctor Jackson obtained one of the -middle-aged women of the village to wait upon him, and give him his food, -for he could not even move his arms to feed himself. For a few weeks -more he lay in this helpless condition gradually becoming more and more -dependent upon his nurse. One morning he failed to open his eyes, and -lay motionless, giving no sign of life whatever. Dr. Jackson had a great -number of calls to make that day, and so it was not until late in the -evening that he could attend the old fellow. Tired out from his labors, -the doctor made a hasty examination, and said there was no doubt about -his being dead. - -Next day the Doctor gave the miser’s written instructions to his -man-of-all-work, and told him to see that they were fulfilled. The latter -had a hole bored in the lid of the coffin, through which the rope was -to pass. One end of it was placed in the hand of the corpse, and the -remainder of the rope was pushed through a one-inch pipe, and fastened -to the bell. The pipe permitted the rope to be pulled easily; otherwise -the earth would have checked it. According to the miser’s orders, another -tube connected the cheap casket with the open air. This was to permit him -to breathe if he should not be entirely dead. - -The earth was rapidly shoveled into the opening, and in a short time a -mound of yellow clay marked the old skinflint’s last abode. It was unlike -other newly-made graves, however, for a rope reached out of it to the -bell near by, and six inches of an air-pipe protruded. - -The grave-diggers left the spot, and returned to their homes. The -cemetery was deserted unless one believes that the spirits of the dead -hover above the last resting place of their bodies. - -About three o’clock next morning the sleepy telephone operator in the -little office above the drug store received a call. - -“Hello! Hello!” a frightened woman’s voice exclaimed. “This is Harding’s. -Say, that bell over in the cemetery has been ringing for ten minutes! -It’s getting louder and louder! Call the constable or somebody quick! -There ain’t any men folks at our place now, and we’re scared to death!” - -The operator was wide awake, for everybody knew the story of the burial -of the old miser. She called the Doctor, but could get no response. In -desperation she called the grave-diggers, and two others to go out to -the ghostly spot. As soon as she had sent them on their weird quest, she -called the Harding farmhouse. - -“That bell quit ringin’ several minutes ago!” Mrs. Harding replied. “I -don’t know what to think!” - -The four men reached the dark cemetery with its eery tombstones faintly -visible all about them. Hurriedly, and with conflicting emotions, they -ran to the new grave. What they saw startled them so that they almost -turned back! - -The rope, which had been fastened to the bell, now was tied to the foot -of the post. Even as they looked, they could make out a slight movement -of the rope! It grew taut, and then they could see it slacken! - -“Gosh! He’s come back to life!” one of the men whispered hoarsely. - -“Look! Look!” his companion almost shouted, and pointed toward the -air-pipe. - -How it got there, they did not know, but a bucket was forced down over -the end of the tube into the fresh earth, cutting off all the air supply -from the coffin. - -One of the grave-diggers kicked the bucket off, and then they all set to -work digging. Frantically, yet fearfully, they threw out the fresh earth. -Their lanterns cast weird shadows about them, and dimly lighted up the -somber tombstones near by. They scarcely said a word, but when they did, -it was in a very low tone. - -Thud! A shovel had at last struck the wooden box. It startled the -men. They were not any less courageous than the average, but their -surroundings and the peculiar situation in which they found themselves -would have affected the nerves of anybody. - -Quickly they cleared off the top of the coffin. - -“Hello! Are you alive?” one of them called in a low voice. - -There was no answer. - -“I think Hardings imagined they heard the bell ring,” one of the men -muttered. - -“But didn’t we see the rope move?” another objected. - -“Well, you can open the lid,” the first speaker added. - -They held their two lanterns down inside the pit which they had just -made. The yellow flames flickered and spluttered. The bravest of the four -men used his shovel for a lever, and pried up the coffin top. - -Slowly, hesitatingly, he peered inside. An unexpected movement from -within would have caused him instantly to drop the lid. - -He still could not make out the dead man’s form. Carefully he jerked the -top clear back, and the four spectators were terrified. If they had been -out of the pit in which they stood it is doubtful whether they would have -remained for a second glance. As it was, they were standing on the edge -of the casket, and could not readily escape. - -The old man’s form was turned over, and hunched up, as if he had vainly -striven to lift the tons of earth that held him a captive. His right arm -was stretched out along the side of his prison, and the nails of his -fingers were torn off. The sides of the casket were clawed and scratched, -and the scalp of the dead man was frightfully lacerated. All his hair had -been pulled out by the roots and a wad of it was still fiercely clasped -in the miser’s left hand. - -Even while they looked on a greater fear consumed them. - -“_Ha-ha, ha-ha_,” demoniacal laughter came to their ears. - -This was too much. Clawing and scrambling, they clambered over each other -in trying to get out of the pit. - -“_Ha-ha, ha-ha_,” the shrill laughter continued from far up the hillside. - -It pursued the fleeing men. To their terrified minds the fiendish sounds -seemed to be taken up and re-echoed by each of the tombstones which they -passed in their flight. - -“Ha-ha, ha-ha! Ha-ha, ha-ha! Ha-ha, ha-ha!” The ghostly shrieks rang in -their ears, as they raced toward the village. - -Unexplained, the mystery continued to frighten the superstitious for two -days after the miser had been reburied. Then a tragedy partially turned -their attention from this weird affair. - -The body of the girl whose mother had been turned out of her home, was -found floating in the river not far from the little village. - -“Too bad!” the Doctor had said. “She must have lost her mind brooding -over her mother’s death,” and this was the consensus of opinion. - -And no one ever thought to associate the gentle young school teacher with -the fiendish laughter which had floated over the cemetery. - - - - -_This Story Has a Horrifying Climax_ - -THE FLOOR ABOVE - -_By_ M. HUMPHREYS - - -September 17, 1922.—I sat down to breakfast this morning with a good -appetite. The heat seemed over, and a cool wind blew in from my garden, -where chrysanthemums were already budding. The sunshine streamed into -the room and fell pleasantly on Mrs. O’Brien’s broad face as she brought -in the eggs and coffee. For a supposedly lonely old bachelor the world -seemed to me a pretty good place. I was buttering my third set of waffles -when the housekeeper again appeared, this time with the mail. - -I glanced carelessly at the three or four letters beside my plate. One of -them bore a strangely familiar handwriting. I gazed at it a minute, then -seized it with a beating heart. Tears almost came into my eyes. There was -no doubt about it—it was Arthur Barker’s handwriting! Shaky and changed, -to be sure, but ten years have passed since I have seen Arthur, or, -rather, since his mysterious disappearance. - -For ten years I have not had a word from him. His people know no more -than I what has become of him, and long ago we gave him up for dead. He -vanished without leaving a trace behind him. It seemed to me, too, that -with him vanished the last shreds of my youth. For Arthur was my dearest -friend in that happy time. We were boon companions, and many a mad prank -we played together. - -And now, after ten years of silence, Arthur was writing to me! - -The envelope was postmarked Baltimore. Almost reluctantly—for I feared -what it might contain—I passed my finger under the flap and opened it. It -held a single sheet of paper torn from a pad. But it was Arthur’s writing: - - “_Dear Tom: Old man, can you run down to see me for a few days? - I’m afraid I’m in a bad way. ARTHUR._” - -Scrawled across the bottom was the address, _536 N. Marathon street_. - -I have often visited Baltimore, but I cannot recall a street of that name. - -Of course I shall go.... But what a strange letter after ten years! There -is something almost uncanny about it. - -I shall go tomorrow evening. I cannot possibly get off before then. - - * * * * * - -September 18.—I am leaving tonight. Mrs. O’Brien has packed my two -suitcases, and everything is in readiness for my departure. Ten minutes -ago I handed her the keys and she went off tearfully. She has been -sniffling all day and I have been perplexed, for a curious thing occurred -this morning. - -It was about Arthur’s letter. Yesterday, when I had finished reading it, -I took it to my desk and placed it in a small compartment together with -other personal papers. I remember distinctly that it was on top, with a -lavender card from my sister directly underneath. This morning I went to -get it. It was gone. - -There was the lavender card exactly where I had seen it, but Arthur’s -letter had completely disappeared. I turned everything upside down, then -called Mrs. O’Brien and we both searched, but in vain. Mrs. O’Brien, in -spite of all I could say, took it upon herself to feel that I suspected -her.... But what could have become of it? Fortunately I remember the -address. - - * * * * * - -September 19.—I have arrived. I have seen Arthur. Even now he is in the -next room and I am supposed to be preparing for bed. But something tells -me I shall not sleep a wink this night. I am strangely wrought up, though -there is not the shadow of an excuse for my excitement. I should be -rejoicing to have found my friend again. And yet.... - -I reached Baltimore this morning at eleven o’clock. The day was warm -and beautiful, and I loitered outside the station a few minutes before -calling a taxi. The driver seemed well acquainted with the street I gave -him, and we rolled off across the bridge. - -As I drew near my destination, I began to feel anxious and afraid. -But the ride lasted longer than I expected—Marathon Street seemed to -be located in the suburbs of the city. At last we turned into a dusty -street, paved only in patches and lined with linden and aspen trees. The -fallen leaves crunched beneath the tires. The September sun beat down -with a white intensity. The taxi drew up before a house in the middle of -a block that boasted not more than six dwellings. On each side of the -house was a vacant lot, and it was set far back at the end of a long -narrow yard crowded with trees. - -I paid the driver, opened the gate and went in. The trees were so thick -that not until I was half way up the path did I get a good view of the -house. It was three stories high, built of brick, in fairly good repair, -but lonely and deserted-looking. The blinds were closed in all of the -windows with the exception of two, one on the first, one on the second -floor. Not a sign of life anywhere, not a cat nor a milk bottle to break -the monotony of the leaves that carpeted the porch. - -[Illustration] - -But, overcoming my feeling of uneasiness, I resolutely set my suitcase on -the porch, caught at the old-fashioned bell, and gave an energetic jerk. -A startling peal jangled through the silence. I waited, but there was no -answer. - -After a minute I rang again. Then from the interior I heard a queer -dragging sound, as if someone was coming slowly down the hall. The knob -was turned and the door opened. I saw before me an old woman, wrinkled, -withered, and filmy-eyed, who leaned on a crutch. - -“Does Mr. Barker live here?” I asked. - -She nodded, staring at me in a curious way, but made no move to invite me -in. - -“Well, I’ve come to see him,” I said. “I’m a friend of his. He sent for -me.” - -At that she drew slightly aside. - -“He’s upstairs,” she said in a cracked voice that was little more than a -whisper. “I can’t show you up. Hain’t been up a stair now in ten year.” - -“That’s all right,” I replied, and, seizing my suitcase, I strode down -the long hall. - -“At the head of the steps,” came the whispering voice behind me. “The -door at the end of the hall.” - -I climbed the cold dark stairway, passed along the short hall at the top, -and stood before a closed door. I knocked. - -“Come in.” It was Arthur’s voice, and yet—not his. - -I opened the door and saw Arthur sitting on a couch, his shoulders -hunched over, his eyes raised to mine. - -After all, ten years had not changed him so much. As I remembered him, -he was of medium height, inclined to be stout, and ruddy-faced with keen -gray eyes. He was still stout, but had lost his color, and his eyes had -dulled. - -“And where have you been all this time?” I demanded, when the first -greetings were over. - -“Here,” he answered. - -“In this house?” - -“Yes.” - -“But why didn’t you let us hear from you?” - -He seemed to be making an effort to speak. - -“What did it matter? I didn’t suppose any one cared.” - -Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could not get rid of the thought -that Arthur’s pale eyes fixed tenaciously upon my face, were trying to -tell me something, something quite different from what his lips said. - -I felt chilled. Although the blinds were open, the room was almost -darkened by the branches of the trees that pressed against the window. -Arthur had not given me his hand, had seemed troubled to know how to make -me welcome. Yet of one thing I was certain: He needed me and he wanted me -to know he needed me. - -As I took a chair I glanced about the room. It was a typical -lodging-house room, medium sized, flowered wall paper, worn matting, -nondescript rugs, a wash-stand in one corner, a chiffonier in another, a -table in the center, two or three chairs, and the couch which evidently -served Arthur as a bed. But it was cold, strangely cold for such a warm -day. - -Arthur’s eyes had wandered uneasily to my suitcase. He made an effort to -drag himself to his feet. - -“Your room is back here,” he said, with a motion of his thumb. - -“No, wait,” I protested. “Let’s talk about yourself first. What’s wrong?” - -“I’ve been sick.” - -“Haven’t you a doctor? If not, I’ll get one.” - -At this he started up with the first sign of animation he had shown. - -“No, Tom, don’t do it. Doctors can’t help me now. Besides, I hate them. -I’m afraid of them.” - -His voice trailed away, and I took pity on his agitation. I decided to -let the question of doctors drop for the moment. - -“As you say,” I assented carelessly. - -Without more ado, I followed him into my room, which adjoined his and -was furnished in much the same fashion. But there were two windows, one -on each side, looking out on the vacant lots. Consequently, there was -more light, for which I was thankful. In a far corner I noticed a door, -heavily bolted. - -“There’s one more room,” said Arthur, as I deposited my belongings. “One -that you’ll like. But we’ll have to go through the bath-room.” - -Groping our way through the musty bath-room, in which a tiny jet of gas -was flickering, we stepped into a large, almost luxurious chamber. It was -a library, well-furnished, carpeted, and surrounded by shelves fairly -bulging with books. But for the chillness and bad light, it was perfect. -As I moved about, Arthur followed me with his eyes. - -“There are some rare works on botany—” - -I had already discovered them, a set of books that I would have given -much to own. I could not contain my joy. - -“You won’t be so bored browsing around in here—” - -In spite of my preoccupation, I pricked up my ears. In that monotonous -voice there was no sympathy with my joy. It was cold and tired. - -When I had satisfied my curiosity we returned to the front room, and -Arthur flung himself, or rather fell, upon the couch. It was nearly five -o’clock and quite dark. As I lighted the gas, I heard a sound below as of -somebody thumping on the wall. - -“That’s the old woman,” Arthur explained. “She cooks my meals, but she’s -too lame to bring them up.” - -He made a feeble attempt at rising, but I saw he was worn out. - -“Don’t stir,” I warned him. “I’ll bring up your food tonight.” - -To my surprise, I found the dinner appetizing and well-cooked, and, in -spite of the fact that I did not like the looks of the old woman, I ate -with relish. Arthur barely touched a few spoonfuls of soup to his lips -and absently crumbled some bread in his plate. - -Directly I had carried off the dishes, he wrapped his reddish-brown -dressing-gown about him, stretched out at full length on the couch, and -asked me to turn out the gas. When I had complied with his request, I -again heard his weak voice asking if I had everything I needed. - -“Everything,” I assured him, and then there was unbroken silence. - -I went to my room, finally, closed the door, and here I am sitting -restlessly between the two back windows that look out on the vacant lots. - -I have unpacked my clothes and turned down the bed, but I cannot make up -my mind to retire. If the truth be told, I hate to put out the light.... -There is something disturbing in the way the dry leaves tap on the panes. -And my heart is sad when I think of Arthur. - -I have found my old friend, but he is no longer my old friend. Why does -he fix his pale eyes so strangely on my face? What does he wish to tell -me? - -But these are morbid thoughts. I will put them out of my head. I will go -to bed and get a good night’s rest. And tomorrow I will wake up finding -everything right and as it should be. - - * * * * * - -September 26.—Have been here a week today, and I have settled down to -this queer existence as if I had never known another. The day after my -arrival I discovered that the third volume of the botanical series was -done in Latin, which I have set myself the task of translating. It is -absorbing work, and when I have buried myself in one of the deep chairs -by the library table, the hours fly fast. - -For health’s sake I force myself to walk a few miles every day. I have -tried to prevail on Arthur to do likewise, but he, who used to be so -active, now refuses to budge from the house. No wonder he is literally -blue! For it is a fact that his complexion and the shadows about his eyes -and temples, are decidedly blue. - -What does he do with himself all day? Whenever I enter his room, he is -lying on the couch, a book beside him, which he never reads. He does -not seem to suffer any pain, for he never complains. After several -ineffectual attempts to get medical aid for him, I have given up -mentioning the subject of a doctor. I feel that his trouble is more -mental than physical. - - * * * * * - -September 28.—A rainy day. It has been coming down in floods since dawn. -And I got a queer turn this afternoon. - -As I could not get out for my walk, I spent the morning staging a general -house-cleaning. It was time! Dust and dirt everywhere. The bath-room, -which has no window and is lighted by gas, was fairly overrun with -water-bugs and roaches. Of course I did not penetrate to Arthur’s room, -but I heard no sound from him as I swept and dusted. - -I made a good dinner and settled down in the library, feeling quite cosy. -The rain came down steadily and it had grown so cold that I decided to -make a fire later on. But once I had gathered my tablets and notebooks -about me I forgot the cold. - -I remember I was on the subject of the _Aster Tripolium_, a rare variety -seldom found in this country. Turning a page, I came upon a specimen of -this very variety, dried, pressed flat, and pasted to the margin. Above -it, in Arthur’s handwriting, I read: - -_September 27, 1912._ - -I was bending close to examine it, when I felt a vague fear. It seemed to -me that someone was in the room and was watching me. Yet I had not heard -the door open, nor seen anyone enter. I turned sharply and saw Arthur, -wrapped in his reddish-brown dressing-gown, standing at my very elbow. - -He was smiling—smiling for the first time since my arrival, and his dull -eyes were bright. But I did not like that smile. In spite of myself I -jerked away from him. He pointed at the aster. - -“It grew in the front yard under a linden tree. I found it yesterday.” - -“Yesterday!” I shouted, my nerves on edge. “Good Lord man! Look! It was -ten years ago!” - -The smile faded from his face. - -“Ten years ago,” he repeated thickly. “_Ten years ago?_” - -And with his hand pressed against his forehead, he went out of the room -still muttering, “_Ten years ago!_”... - -As for me, this foolish incident has preyed on my mind and kept me from -doing any satisfactory work.... _September 27th_.... It is true, that was -also yesterday—ten years ago. - - * * * * * - -October 1.—One o’clock. A cheerful morning this has been, the sun shining -brightly, and a touch of frost in the air. I put in an excellent day’s -work in the library yesterday, and on the first mail this morning came a -letter from Mrs. O’Brien. She says the _Scarab_ chrysanthemums are in -full bloom. I must positively run up for a day before they are gone. - -As I lighted a cigar after breakfast, I happened to glance over at Arthur -and was struck by a change in him. For he _has_ changed. I ask myself -if my presence has not done him good. On my arrival he seemed without -energy, almost torpid, but now he is becoming restless. He wanders about -the room continually and sometimes shows a disposition to talk. - -Yes, I am sure he is better. I am going for my walk now, and I feel -convinced that in a week’s time I shall have him accompanying me. - - * * * * * - -Five o’clock. Dusk is falling. O God! What has come over me? Am I the -same man that went out of this house three hours ago? And what has -happened!... - -I had a splendid walk, and was striding homeward in a fine glow. But as I -turned the corner and came in sight of the house, it was as if I looked -at death itself. I could hardly drag myself up the stairs, and when I -peered into the shadowy chamber, and saw the man hunched up on the couch, -with his eyes fixed intently on my face, I could have screamed like a -woman. I wanted to fly, to rush out into the clear cold air and run—to -run and never come back! But I controlled myself, forced my feet to carry -me to my room. - -There is a weight of hopelessness at my heart. The darkness is advancing, -swallowing up everything, but I have not the will to light the gas.... - -Now there is a flicker in the front room. I am a fool; I must pull myself -together. Arthur is lighting up, and downstairs I can hear the thumping -that announces dinner.... - -It is a queer thought that comes to me now, but it is odd I have not -noticed it before. We are about to sit down to our evening meal. Arthur -will eat practically nothing for he has no appetite. Yet he remains -stout. It cannot be healthy fat, but even at that it seems to me that a -man who eats as little as he does would become a living skeleton. - - * * * * * - -October 5.—Positively, I must see a doctor about myself, or soon I shall -be a nervous wreck. I am acting like a child. Last night I lost all -control and played the coward. - -I had gone to bed early, tired out with a hard day’s work. It was raining -again, and as I lay in bed I watched the little rivulets trickling down -the panes. Lulled by the sighing of the wind among the leaves, I fell -asleep. - -I awoke (how long afterward I cannot say) to feel a cold hand laid on my -arm. For a moment I lay paralyzed with terror. I would have cried aloud, -but I had no voice. At last I managed to sit up, to shake the hand off. I -reached for the matches and lighted the gas. - -It was Arthur who stood by my bed—Arthur wrapped in his eternal -reddish-brown dressing-gown. He was excited. His blue face had a yellow -tinge, and his eyes gleamed in the light. - -“Listen!” he whispered. - -I listened but I heard nothing. - -“Don’t you hear it?” he gasped, and he pointed upward. - -“Upstairs?” I stammered. “Is there somebody upstairs?” - -I strained my ears, and at last I fancied I could hear a fugitive sound -like the light tapping of footsteps. - -“It must be somebody walking about up there,” I suggested. - -But at these words Arthur seemed to stiffen. The excitement died out of -his face. - -“No!” he cried in a sharp rasping voice. “No! It is nobody walking about -up there!” - -And he fled into his room. - -For a long time I lay trembling, afraid to move. But at last, fearing for -Arthur, I got up and crept to his door. He was lying on the couch, with -his face in the moonlight, apparently asleep. - - * * * * * - -October 6.—I had a talk with Arthur today. Yesterday I could not bring -myself to speak of the previous night’s happening, but all of this -nonsense must be cleared away. - -We were in the library. A fire was burning in the grate, and Arthur -had his feet on the fender. The slippers he wears, by the way, are as -objectionable to me as his dressing-gown. They are felt slippers, old and -worn, and frayed around the edges as if they had been gnawed by rats. I -cannot imagine why he does not get a new pair. - -“Say, old man,” I began abruptly, “do you own this house?” - -He nodded. - -“Don’t you rent any of it?” - -“Downstairs—to Mrs. Harlan.” - -“But upstairs?” - -He hesitated, then shook his head. - -“No, it’s inconvenient. There’s only a peculiar way to get upstairs.” - -I was struck by this. - -“By jove! you’re right. Where’s the staircase?” - -He looked me full in the eyes. - -“Don’t you remember seeing a bolted door in a corner of your room? The -staircase runs from that door.” - -I did remember it, and somehow the memory made me uncomfortable. I said -no more and decided not to refer to what had happened that night. It -occurred to me that Arthur might have been walking in his sleep. - - * * * * * - -October 8.—When I went for my walk on Tuesday I dropped in and saw Dr. -Lorraine, who is an old friend. He expressed some surprise at my run-down -condition and wrote me a prescription. - -I am planning to go home next week. How pleasant it will be to walk in my -garden and listen to Mrs. O’Brien singing in the kitchen! - - * * * * * - -October 9.—Perhaps I had better postpone my trip. I casually mentioned it -to Arthur this morning. - -He was lying relaxed on the sofa, but when I spoke of leaving he sat up -as straight as a bolt. His eyes fairly blazed. - -“No, Tom, don’t go!” There was terror in his voice, and such pleading -that it wrung my heart. - -“You’ve stood it alone here ten years,” I protested. “And now—” - -“It’s not that,” he said. “But if you go, you will never come back.” - -“Is that all the faith you have in me?” - -“I’ve got faith, Tom. But if you go, you’ll never come back.” - -I decided that I must humor the vagaries of a sick man. - -“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll not go. Anyway, not for some time.” - - * * * * * - -October 12.—What is it that hangs over this house like a cloud? For I -can no longer deny that there _is_ something—something indescribably -oppressive. It seems to pervade the whole neighborhood. - -Are all the houses on this block vacant? If not, why do I never see -children playing in the street? Why are passers-by so rare? And why, when -from the front window I do catch a glimpse of one, is he hastening away -as fast as possible? - -I am feeling blue again. I know that I need a change, and this morning I -told Arthur definitely that I was going. - -To my surprise he made no objection. In fact, he murmured a word of -assent and smiled. He smiled as he smiled in the library that morning -when he pointed at the _Aster Tripolium_. And I don’t like that smile. -Anyway, it is settled. I shall go next week, Thursday, the 19th. - - * * * * * - -October 13.—I had a strange dream last night. Or was it a dream? It was -so vivid.... All day long I have been seeing it over and over again. - -In my dream I thought that I was lying there in my bed. The moon was -shining brightly into the room, so that each piece of furniture stood -out distinctly. The bureau is so placed that when I am lying on my back, -with my head high on the pillow, I can see full into the mirror. - -I thought I was lying in this manner and staring into the mirror. In this -way I saw the bolted door in the far corner of the room. I tried to keep -my mind off it, to think of something else, but it drew my eyes like a -magnet. - -It seemed to me that someone was in the room, a vague figure that I could -not recognize. It approached the door and caught at the bolts. It dragged -at them and struggled, but in vain—they would not give way. - -Then it turned and showed me its agonized face. It was Arthur! I -recognized his reddish-brown dressing-gown. - -I sat up in bed and cried to him, but he was gone. I ran to his room, and -there he was, stretched out in the moonlight asleep. It must have been a -dream. - - * * * * * - -October 15.—We are having Indian Summer weather now—almost oppressively -warm. I have been wandering about all day, unable to settle down to -anything. This morning I felt so lonesome that when I took the breakfast -dishes down, I tried to strike up a conversation with Mrs. Harlan. - -Hitherto I have found her as solemn and uncommunicative as the Sphinx, -but as she took the tray from my hands, her wrinkles broke into the -semblance of a smile. Positively at that moment it seemed to me that she -resembled Arthur. Was it her smile, or the expression of her eyes? Has -she, also, something to tell me? - -“Don’t you get lonesome here?” I asked her sympathetically. - -She shook her head. - -“No, sir, I’m used to it now. I couldn’t stand it anywheres else.” - -“And do you expect to go on living here the rest of your life?” - -“That may not be very long, sir,” she said, and smiled again. - -Her words were simple enough, but the way she looked at me when she -uttered them seemed to give them a double meaning. She hobbled away, and -I went upstairs and wrote Mrs. O’Brien to expect me early on the morning -of the 19th. - - * * * * * - -October 18, 10 a. m.—Am catching the twelve o’clock train tonight. Thank -God, I had the resolution to get away! I believe another week of this -life would drive me mad. And perhaps Arthur is right—perhaps I shall -never come back. - -I ask myself if I have become such a weakling as that, to desert him when -he needs me most. I don’t know. I don’t recognize myself any longer.... - -But of course I will be back. There is the translation, for one thing, -which is coming along famously. I could never forgive myself for dropping -it at the most vital point. - -As for Arthur, when I return, I intend to give in to him no longer. I -will make myself master here and cure him against his will. Fresh air, -change of scene, a good doctor, these are the things he needs. - -But what is his malady? Is it the influence of this house that has fallen -on him like a blight? One might imagine so, since it is having the same -effect on me. - -Yes, I have reached that point where I no longer sleep. At night I lie -awake and try to keep my eyes off the mirror across the room. But in -the end I always find myself staring into it—watching the door with the -heavy bolts. I long to rise from the bed and draw back the bolts, but I’m -afraid. - -How slowly the day goes by! The night will never come! - - * * * * * - -Nine p. m.—Have packed my suitcase and put the room in order. Arthur must -be asleep.... I’m afraid the parting from him will be painful. I shall -leave here at eleven o’clock in order to give myself plenty of time.... -It is beginning to rain.... - - * * * * * - -October 19.—At last! It has come! I am mad! I knew it! I felt it creeping -on me all the time! Have I not lived in this house a month? Have I not -seen—. To have seen what I have seen, to have lived for a month as I have -lived, one _must_ be mad.... - -It was ten o’clock. I was waiting impatiently for the last hour to pass. -I had seated myself in a rocking-chair by the bed, my suitcase beside -me, my back to the mirror. The rain no longer fell. I must have dozed off. - -But all at once I was wide awake, my heart beating furiously. Something -had touched me. I leapt to my feet, and, turning sharply, my eyes fell -upon the mirror. In it I saw the door just as I had seen it the other -night, and the figure fumbling with the bolt. I wheeled around, but there -was nothing there. - -I told myself that I was dreaming again, that Arthur was asleep in his -bed. But I trembled as I opened the door of his room and peered in. The -room was empty, the bed not even crumpled. Lighting a match, I groped my -way through the bath-room into the library. - -The moon had come from under a cloud and was pouring in a silvery flood -through the windows, but Arthur was not there. I stumbled back into my -room. - -The moon was there, too.... And the door, the door in the corner was half -open. The bolt had been drawn. In the darkness I could just make out a -flight of steps that wound upward. - -I could no longer hesitate. Striking another match, I climbed the black -stairway. - -When I reached the top I found myself in total darkness, for the blinds -were tightly closed. Realizing that the room was probably a duplicate of -the one below, I felt along the wall until I came to the gas jet. For a -moment the flame flickered, then burned bright and clear. - -O God! what was it I saw? A table, thick with dust, and something wrapped -in a reddish-brown dressing-gown, that sat with its elbows propped upon -it. - -How long had it been sitting there that it had grown more dry than the -dust upon the table! For how many thousands of days and nights had the -flesh rotted from that grinning skull! - -In its bony fingers it still clutched a pencil. In front of it lay a -sheet of scratch paper, yellow with age. With trembling fingers I brushed -away the dust. It was dated _October 19, 1912_. It read: - - “_Dear Tom: Old man, can you run down to see me for a few days? - I’m afraid I’m in a bad way—_” - - - - -Reads Story of Mankind on Egyptian Coffins - - -Prof. James H. Breasted, Egyptologist and director of the Haskell -Oriental Museum at the University of Chicago, is solving some of the -mysteries of the beginning of the human race by inspecting sarcophagi of -Egyptian kings. From Cairo, he wrote to his associate, Dr. William S. -Edgerton: - -“You will be interested to know that Gardener and I have settled -down at the museum and have already devoted a week to the task we -are undertaking. We have a very large amount of space placed at our -disposal, and our gallery, over 100 feet long, is already filled with -dismounted coffins. The photographer is busily at work, and Gardener and -I are copying industriously. The task proved to be far larger than we -had anticipated and also very much more difficult. It will be a matter -of years, but I have never been more convinced of its necessity and -usefulness than now.” - - - - -_Here’s a Grotesque, Fantastic Tale_ - -PENELOPE - -_By_ Vincent Starrett - - -[Illustration] - -My friend Raymond is a fascinating fellow—a compendium of useless and -entertaining lore. - -I can not think of a better companion for an evening with what the -ancients felicitously called “pipe and bowl.” When the latter is empty -and the former going like a blast furnace, Raymond is the equal of any -raconteur under the sun, moon and stars. A great fellow, indeed! - -And the sun, moon and stars, incidentally, are his familiars. They are -no more puzzling to him than a railway time-table; much less, in fact. -Occasionally, he lectures, and that is his only fault. I mean that his -conversation by degrees slips from its informal, negligée ease and takes -on the rhetoric of the classroom. How he can talk! I shall never forget -his exposition of his theory of the wireless composition of the Absolute. - -No matter! As a rule he is sound—although invariably he is outside -the pale. Had he cared to do so, he might have strung a kite-tail -of alphabetic degrees after his name, years ago; but he scorns such -trappings. Orthodox science, of course, will have none of him; he knows -too much. Grayfield of Anaconda University once said of him: “Raymond -knows more things that aren’t so than any man I ever met.” - -Again, no matter! The heresy of today is the orthodoxy of tomorrow, and -the radical of yesterday is the conservative of today. Thus does the -world progress—toward what? Perhaps insanity! - -We sat at a table in my rooms and talked; that is, Raymond talked. I -listened. It made no difference what was said; it was all entertaining -and amusing, and I had not seen him for a fortnight. When, quite -suddenly, his voice ceased, it was as if a powerful, natural flow of -water had been interrupted in its course. - -I looked at him across the table, and was in time to see him squeeze the -last golden drop from his glass and set down the tumbler with a sigh. His -hand trembled. Instinctively, we both looked at the bottle. It was empty. - -“It is glorious!” said Raymond. “I have not felt so light-headed since -Penelope was in perihelion.” - -I looked at him suspiciously. I had always claimed that Raymond’s -clearest view of the stars was through a colored bottle used as a -telescope. - -He rose to his feet and unsteadily crossed the floor to collapse -upon a couch. In an instant he was asleep and snoring. It was the -promptest performance by the man that I had ever seen, and I was lost in -admiration. But as my wife was due at any moment, I withheld my wonder -and shook him into wakefulness. After a bit he sat up with a stare. - -“Give us an arm, old chap,” he murmured; and after a moment: “The heat -here is awful.” - -I assisted him to his feet, and we ricocheted to the balcony upon which -long doors opened at the front of the room. The light breeze impinged -pleasantly upon our senses. We were two floors up, and from somewhere -below ascended the strains of a banjo played pianissimo. - -Raymond draped a long arm across my shoulders and, thus fortified, closed -one eye and looked into the heavens. The other arm described an arc and -developed a rigid finger, pointing upward. - -“Look!” he said. “It is the star Penelope!” - -I restrained an inclination to laugh. “Which?” I asked, although it was -quite clear that Raymond was drunk. - -He indicated, and I allowed myself to be persuaded that I saw it. -Penelope, I learned later, is a small star of about the thirtieth -magnitude, which, on a clear night and with a powerful glass, may be -picked up midway between the constellations of the Pleiades and Ursa -Major. It is a comparatively insignificant star, and that Raymond -actually saw it I still greatly doubt. - -But the sight, real or fancied, was tonic. It was as if that remote point -of fire had thrilled him with a life-ray. He straightened, sobered, -became grave. The pointing finger was withdrawn. - -“Diccon,” he said, giving me a familiar and affectionate pseudonym, “I -have never told you of my connection with the star Penelope. There are -few that know. Those whom I have told have looked upon me as mad. If I -have concealed from you this, my strangest adventure, you must believe -that it was because I valued your opinion of my sanity. Tonight——” - -Again he turned his gaze upward, and I pretended to see that distant -star. His voice became reminiscent, introspective. - -“Penelope,” he whispered, “Penelope! Only yesterday it seems that you -were under my feet!” - -He suddenly turned. - -“Come,” he commanded. “Come into the house. I feel that I must tell you -tonight.” - - * * * * * - -Haswell [began my friend Raymond], I shall not ask your belief; to you -the tale will seem incredible. I shall ask only your attention and—your -sympathy. - -The star Penelope is my natal star. Born under its baleful influence, I -have been subjected to that influence ever since. You will recall that -my father before me was deeply interested in astronomy, so deeply that -his researches gained him the jealous enmity of the world’s greatest -scientists—“Mad Raymond,” they called him. - -You will also recall that he died in an asylum; but, my dear Haswell, -he was no more mad than I. But there is no denying that his astounding -knowledge, and the equally astounding inferences and deductions he drew -therefrom, made him a marked man in his day. It is dangerous to be a -hundred years ahead of one’s fellows. - -My father discovered the star Penelope, and—as if a strange pre-natal -influence thus had been brought to bear upon his parenthood—it was my -natal star. The circumstance was sufficient to enlist his whole interest, -after my birth, in the star Penelope. He had calculated that its orbit -was so vast that fifty years would be required to complete it. I was with -my father when he died, and his last words to me were: - -“Beware of Penelope when in perihelion.” - -He died shortly afterward, and it was little enough that I could learn of -his thought; but from his dying whispers I gathered that with Penelope -in perihelion a sinister influence would enter my life. The star would -then possess its greatest power over me for evil. The exact nature of its -effect I think he could not himself foretell or even guess, but he feared -a material change that would affect not only my mental but my physical -being. - -My father’s warning was uttered ten years ago, and I have never forgotten -it. And through the long, silent nights—following his footsteps—I watched -the relentless approach of the star which was to have so fateful an -influence upon my destiny. - -Three years ago I insensibly became aware of its proximity. As it came -nearer it seemed that little messengers were sent forth to herald its -coming. Like a shadow cast before, I recognized—I felt—the adumbrations -of its power. Little whispers of its influence crossed the distances and -reached me before its central intelligence was felt in all its terror. - -I struggled against it, as a man frantically seeks to escape the coiling -tentacles of a monster irresistibly drawing him nearer. I feared that -I would commit some dreadful crime, or that I would go mad—knowing that -either would have been a relief. And there was no one to whom I could -tell my appalling apprehensions. The merest whisper of my situation would -have branded me a lunatic. - -Two years ago I set myself the task of calculating the exact time when -the star Penelope would attain its perihelion with our sun, and a long -series of computations assured me that on the twenty-sixth day of the -following October Penelope would be in the zenith. - -That was a year ago last October. Perhaps you will recall that for a week -I was absent from my usual haunts? When you saw me later you asked where -I had been, and remarked that I was looking peaked. I said I had been out -of town, but I lied. I had been in hiding in my rooms—not that I believed -four walls could avert the impending disaster, whatever it might be, but -to avert from my friends and from the public the possible consequences of -my deeds. - -I shut myself in my study, locked the door, and threw the key out of the -window. Then, alone and unaided, I sat down to await the moment and the -catastrophe. - -To divert my mind, I attacked a problem which always had bothered me and -which, indeed, still remains unsolved. In the midst of my calculations, -overcome with weariness and lack of sleep, I sank into a profound -slumber. My dreams were hideous. Then, suddenly, I awoke, with a dizzy -feeling of falling. - -How shall I tell you what I saw? It seemed that while I slept the room -had been entered and cleared of its furniture. No vestige of impedimenta -remained. Even the carpet was gone, and I was lying at full length on the -floor, the boards of which had been replaced with plaster and whitewash. - -The room seemed stifling, and, remembering that I had left the window -slightly down for ventilation, I stood up and walked across to it. It -stood close down, almost against the floor—an extraordinary removal—and -whoever had emptied the room also had closed the window at the top and -opened it at the bottom. I had to kneel down to lean out across the sill. - -I am telling all this calmly. Perhaps you will imagine the state of my -mind, however. I was far indeed from calm. There are no words to tell you -my bewilderment. But if I had been amazed by the condition of the room, -I was confounded when I looked out into the night. I was literally so -frightened that I could not utter a sound. - -I had looked down, expecting to look into the street; and there were the -stars shining below me, millions of miles away. And yet the noises of the -street fell distinctly on my ears. The earth seemed to have melted away -beneath my dwelling, which apparently hung upside down in the sky; but -the sounds of traffic and human voices were all about me. - -A horror that made me dizzy had crept over me, but, gripping the narrow -sill with both hands, I twisted my face fearfully upward. Then for the -first time a scream left my lips. - -Above me, not thirty feet away, was the street filled with its accustomed -hum and populated with people and with traffic—all upside down. - -Men and women walked the pavement, head downward, as a fly walks the -ceiling. Automobiles rolled past in frantic procession, their tops toward -me, their wheels miraculously clinging to the overhanging roadway. - -You, by this time, will have comprehended what had happened. I did not. -Frightened, bewildered, half-mad, I drew in my head and fell back upon -the whitewashed floor; and then, as I lay there upon my back, I saw what -I had not seen before. On the ceiling of the room, clinging to it, head -downward as the motors had clung to the street, was the missing furniture -of my study. - -It was arranged precisely as I had left it, except that it was _upside -down_ and appeared to have changed sides. The heavy desk at which I had -sat hung directly over me, and with a gasp of terror I jumped aside; I -thought that it would fall and crush me. The missing carpet was spread -across the ceiling, and the tables and chairs reposed upon it; the books -on table and bookcase hung easily from the under-surface, and none fell. - -I pulled out my watch, and it slipped from my hand and shot upward the -length of the chain. When I had recovered it, I looked at the hour, and -everything that I wished to know flashed over me. - -_It was midnight, and Penelope was in perihelion!_ - -The influence of my natal star had overcome the pitiful attraction of the -earth, and I had been released from earth’s influence. I was now held by -the gravity of the star Penelope. The earth remained as it had been; the -house was not upside down; only I! And I had thought I had fallen from my -chair! Ye Gods, I had _risen_ from it—as _you_ would understand it—and -had crashed against the ceiling of my room! - -I sat there, upside down from the earth point of view, upon the ceiling -of my study, and considered my position. Then I stood up and paced back -and forth across the ceiling, and as I moved coins and keys fell from my -pockets and dropped downward—upward—as you will—to the floor of the room. - -One thing was clear. I had averted a very serious disaster by clinging -to the window-frame when I looked out. With that fearsome influence upon -me, a moment of overbalancing would have pulled me over the edge, and -I should have been precipitated into the awful depths of space which -gleamed like an ocean beneath my window. - -Mad as was the thought, I wondered what time would be required for -my cometlike flight to the shores of the star Penelope. I saw myself -speeding like a meteor across those tremendous distances to plunge at -last into the heart of the Infinite mystery. Even while I shook with the -sick horror of the thought, it was not without its allure. - -The heat of the room was great, for heat rises and I was on the ceiling. -A human desire to leave the study and go outside seized me, and, perilous -as I knew the action to be, I resolved to try it. - -I walked across to the door of my study, but it was so high above my head -that I could not grasp the knob. I remembered, too, that I had locked -the door and thrown away the key. Fortunately, the transom was open, and -as this was nearer to me I made a spring and grasped its frame. Then, -painfully, I pulled myself up and managed to climb through, dropping to -the ceiling on the other side. - -It was dark in the corridor, and as I crossed the ceiling I heard -footsteps ascending the stairs, which were above and to one side of me. -Then a candle flickered around the bend, and my landlord came into view, -walking head downward like the rest of the world. - -In his hand he grasped what, as he came nearer, I made out to be a -revolver. Apparently he had heard the strange noises from my part of the -house and was intent on inquiring their meaning. I trembled, for I knew -that if he caught sight of me, upside down as he would think, against -the ceiling, he would instantly shoot me—supposing he did not faint from -fright. - -But he did not see me, and after prowling about for twenty minutes he -went away satisfied, and I was left to make my way out of the house as -best I could. - -I felt curiously light, as if I had lost many pounds of weight, which -indeed must have been the case; and I made very little sound as I trod -the ceilings toward the back of the house, where I knew there was a -fire-escape leading to the street. The door into the rear room was open, -and I clambered over the obstacle interposed by the top of its frame and -entered the chamber, crossing quietly to the window. - -I dared not look down as I climbed through the aperture, but once I -had seized the ironwork of the fire-escape I felt more at ease; then -carefully I began my strange _upward_ climb toward the overhanging -street. To any one looking up I would have seemed to be a whimsical -acrobat coming down the ironwork on his hands, and I suppose I would have -created a sensation. - -At the bottom my difficulties began, for I could not hope to remain -on the earth without support; walking on my hands would not solve the -puzzle. The pull of Penelope was exactly the pull of the earth when -one hangs by his hands from a height. With fear in my heart, I began -my extraordinary journey, toward the street, taking advantage of every -inequality in the foundation of the house, and often I was clinging -desperately to a single little shelf of brick, for while ostensibly I -was walking on my hands, actually I was hanging at a fearful height in -momentary danger of dropping into the immeasurable abyss of the sky -beneath me. - -An iron fence ran around the house, and at one point it was close enough -for me to reach out a hand and seize it. Then, with a shudder, I drew -myself across onto its iron pickets, where, after a bit, I felt safer. - -The fence offered a real support, for the iron frame about its top became -a narrow but strong rest for my feet. But the fence was not particularly -high, and as I progressed the earth, owing to the inequalities of the -ground, often was only a few inches above my head. Anyone stopping to -look would have seen a man—a madman, as he would have supposed—standing -on his head against the iron fence, and occasionally moving forward by -convulsive movements of his rigid arms. - -The traffic had thinned, and there seemed to be few pedestrians on my -side of the thoroughfare. A wild idea seized me—to negotiate the distance -to your home, Haswell, clinging to the fences along the way. I thought it -could be done, and you were the only person to whom I felt I could tell -my strange story with a hope of belief. - -Had I attempted the journey, I should have been lost without a doubt; -somewhere along the way my arm sockets would have rebelled, my grasp -would have torn away, and I would have been plunged into the depths of a -star-strewn space and become a wanderer in the void speeding toward an -unimagined destiny. As it happened, this was not to be. - -I had reached the end of the side fence, and was just beginning to make -my way around to the front, when I was seen by a woman—a young woman, -who came along the street at that moment. I knew nothing of her presence -until her muffled scream reached my ears. Seeing me standing apparently -on my head, she thought me a maniac. - -To me she seemed a woman upside down, and I looked into her face as one -looks into a reflection in the depths of a pool. A street lamp depended -from the pavement above me and not far from my position of the moment, -and in its light I saw that her face was young and sweet. I wonder, -Haswell, if there can be any situation, however incredible, in which the -face of a lovely woman will not command attention? I think not. - -Well, it was a sweet face—and she did not scream again. I said to her: -“Please do not be frightened. I am not crazy, although I do not wonder -that you think so. Preposterous as it may seem, I am for the time being -in a normal position; were I to stand upon the earth as you do, I would—” - -I was going to say that I would vanish from her side, but I realized that -this would be too much for her. - -“I would be suffocated,” I finished. “The blood would rush to my head, -and I would die.” - -Then she spoke, and her voice was filled with tenderness. It was easy to -understand that she believed me quite mad; but she did not fear me. - -“You are ill,” she said. “You need assistance. May I not go for help? Is -there not someone you would like summoned?” - -Again, Haswell, I thought of you. But would she carry a message? Would -she not, instead, go for the police? Was she not even now meditating a -ruse by which I might be captured before I did myself an injury? And I -knew now that I could not continue by myself. Sooner or later I would be -forced to drop, or I would certainly meet—not a handsome young woman but -a policeman. My mind was quickly made up. I said to her: - -“Thank you, my dear, for your offer; but you are in error. There is -nobody who can help me now; perhaps there never will be. But this is my -home here, behind me, and rather than frighten people I shall go back as -I came and stay within doors. But I appreciate your kindness, and I am -glad that you do not believe me mad and that you are not afraid of me. -It may be that some day I shall be cured of this strange trouble, and if -that day comes I should like to meet you again and thank you. Will you -tell me your name?” - -Then she told me her name, flutteringly, and—I almost screamed again. - -Her name, Haswell, was _Penelope_! Penelope Pollard! - -I all but let go of the railing that supported me, and as I wavered and -seemed about to fall she gave a low cry and, turning, ran away into the -darkness. - -She had gone for help. I knew it, and shortly I knew that I would be the -center of an embarrassing and probably a jeering crowd. And so I turned -and went back. The return journey was worse than the forward journey had -been, but after an agony of tortured limbs and straining sinews I found -myself back in my study, and there, thoroughly worn out, I fell prone -upon the floor—or the ceiling—in a corner, and went instantly to sleep. - -Hours later, when I awoke, I was lying on the carpeted floor of my study, -and the sun was pouring in at my window as it had done in past years. -Again I was subordinate to the laws of terrestrial gravity. I fancy that -as the influence passed I slid gradually down the wall until, without -shock, I reached the floor. - -My landlord was beating upon my door, and after a dazed moment or two I -rose and tried to let him in. But as I had thrown away the key, I had to -pretend that I had lost it and had accidentally made myself a prisoner. -When he had freed me, I asked him if there had been any inquiry after me, -and he told me there had not. So it seemed that my fair friend of the -night before had not returned with a posse of bluecoats. I was grateful -and I determined at the first opportunity to look her up. - -From that day forward I looked for her—Penelope Pollard. I traced -Pollards until I almost hated the name. There were Sylvias and Graces -and Sarahs and Janes and all the thousand and one other epithets bestowed -on feminine innocence, but never a Penelope—never, Haswell, until last -week. - -_Penelope!_ - -Last week I found her. And where? Haswell, she lives within three doors -of my own home. She had lived there all the time. She had seen me many -times before my fateful night, and she had seen me often afterward—always -walking the earth normally like other human beings, save for that one -astounding evening. She was willing to talk, and glad to discuss my case; -she is a highly intelligent girl, I may say. She has since told me that -on that evening she believed me to be drunk. It amused her, but it did -not frighten her. That is why she did not go for help; she believed it to -be a drunken whim of mine to walk around on my hands, and that it would -pass in its own time. - -That, Haswell, is the story of my amazing connection with the star -Penelope. You will understand that nearly fifty years must pass before it -will again be in perihelion, and by that time, probably, I shall be dead. - -I am very glad of it; one such experience is enough. Perhaps also you -will understand that I would not have missed it that once for all the -worlds in all the solar systems. - - * * * * * - -“I think your friend was right,” I remarked, after a long silence. -“You certainly were drunk, Raymond. Just as certainly as you are drunk -tonight. Or did the whole thing happen tonight, as you went along?” - -“Drunk?” he echoed. “Yes, I am drunk, Haswell—drunk with a diviner nectar -than ever was brewed by man. Drunk with the wine of Penelope—the star -Penelope. I have kept the best part of the story until the end. Next week -Penelope and I are to be married. I am here tonight by her permission -for a last bout with my old friend Haswell. It is my final jamboree. -Congratulate me, Diccon!” - -Of course, I congratulated him, and I did it sincerely; but the whole -story still vastly puzzles me. Mrs. Raymond is a charming woman, and her -name certainly is Penelope. But does that prove anything? - - - - -Almost Broke, Youth Falls Co-Heir to $12,000,000 - - -Howard Girard, eighteen years old, had spent his last dime and was -wondering where he could raise a bit of change. Then he got a job in -a printing shop in Evanston, Illinois. And then, all at once, he got -word that he had fallen co-heir to a $12,000,000 fortune left by his -grand-uncle, Antoine Damange of Paris. Things like this have happened in -romantic novels. They don’t often happen in actual life. Howard, notified -of his remarkable good fortune, said, “Well, that’s pretty good,” and -then announced his intention of sticking to his job at the printing shop. -His share of the estate will amount to about $2,000,000. - - - - -THE PURPLE HEART - -_The Story of a Haunted Cabin_ - -_By_ HERMAN SISK - - -I was weary of the fog that hung over me like a pall, fatigued to the -point of exhaustion. Since early afternoon the chill wind had forced it -through my clothing like rain. It depressed me. - -The country through which I traveled alone was desolate and unpeopled, -save here and there where some bush assumed fantastic form. The very air -was oppressive. As far as I could see, were hills—nothing but hills and -those bushes. Occasionally I could hear the uncanny cry of some hidden -animal. - -As I pushed on, a dread of impending disaster fastened itself upon me. -I thought of my home, of my mother and sister, and wondered if all was -well with them. I tried to rid myself of this morbid state of mind; but, -try as I would, I could not. It grew as I progressed, until at length it -became a part of me. - -I had walked some fifteen miles, and was so weary I could scarcely stand, -when I came suddenly upon a log cabin. It was a crude affair, quite -small, and stood back some distance from the little-used road in a clump -of trees. A tiny window and a door faced the direction from which I -approached. No paint had ever covered the roughly-hewn logs from which it -was made, and the sun and the wind and the fog had turned the virgin wood -to a drab brown. - -I felt it was useless to knock, for the cabin had every appearance of -being deserted. However, rap I did. No voice bade me enter, and with -an effort I pushed open the door and staggered into the house. Almost -immediately my weary legs crumpled under me, and I toppled and struck -heavily on my face. - -When I regained consciousness, a rough room, scantily furnished, greeted -my eye. There was an ill-looking table, the top of which was warped and -rectangular in shape, standing in the center. To one side was a rustic -chair. Beyond the table was a bunk built into the wall; and on this lay -a man with shining eyes and a long, white beard. A heavy gray blanket -covered all of him but his head. - -“You’re right on time,” he said in a high-pitched voice. - -I looked at him closely. - -“I don’t know you,” I said. - -“Nor I you; but I knew you would come.” - -“You are ill and need help?” I asked. - -“No,” he replied in his strange monotone. “But on this day some one -always visits here. None has ever returned. But I have yet to be alone on -the night of this anniversary.” - -There was something so weird in the way he looked at me out of those big, -watery eyes that I involuntarily shuddered. - -“What anniversary?” I asked. - -“The murder of my father,” he answered. “It happened many years ago. A -strange man came to this cabin just as you have done.” - -He paused. I said nothing. - -“You wish to stay all night?” he asked. - -“Yes, if I may,” I replied. A moment later I regretted it. - -“Quite so,” said he, with a slight nod of his white head. “Those were -the very words he addressed to us. We took him in. When morning came I -found my father dead in there,” rolling his eyes and raising his head to -indicate some point behind him, “with a dagger in his heart. You can see -the room if you open the door behind me.” - -I looked at him a moment, hesitating. Then I went to the door and pushed -it open. Cautiously glancing into the other room, I saw there was nothing -there but a bunk similar to the one the old man occupied. - -“Don’t be afraid,” he said, evidently sensing my fear. “Nothing will hurt -you now. It’s after midnight when it happens.” - -“What happens?” I asked. - -“I don’t know. No two men have the same experience. It all depends on -one’s state of mind.” - -“You mean—” I began. - -“Yes,” he interrupted. “One man saw hands reaching toward him and ropes -in the air. He was escaping the gallows. Another saw faces of beautiful -girls. He was on his way to a large church wedding. A third saw pools -of blood and the white snow stained by human life. He was again living -through a massacre in Russia.” - -“Do you live here?” I asked. - -“No. No one does. The cabin is quite deserted. I come each year to -welcome the evening’s guest.” - -“Is there no other place to stay?” I asked, a sudden fear seizing me. - -“None. Besides, it is growing dark without, and you would lose your way -_even if you could leave_.” - -There was something ominous in the way he uttered these last five words. - -“Yes,” he went on, as if I had asked the unuttered question in my mind, -“you may think you can go, but you cannot. That is the curse my father -placed on this cabin. And I come each year to see that his word is -obeyed. Whoever enters that door yonder on this date must stay until -morning, and endure the agonies that only the rising sun can dispel.” - -I looked about me to make sure that he and I were the only living things -in the room. - -“What is to prevent my leaving?” I asked. - -“Try to,” he replied, an eerie note of glee in his queer voice. - -I walked to the door and gave it a mighty pull. To my utter amazement, it -was locked! - -I tried again, this time with greater determination; but the door -remained unyielding. A sudden terror seized me. I turned to beseech the -old man to let me go, but _he was not there!_ - -I looked quickly about me. He was nowhere to be seen. I ran into the -other room. It was as empty as before. I rushed to the door there and -pulled vigorously, but my efforts were in vain. - -Returning to his bunk, I examined it closely. To my great astonishment, -the heavy gray blanket was gone. In desperation I tried once more the -door through which I had entered the cabin. It was still as inflexible as -concrete. - -Darkness fell fast and the room became very dim. I groped about and -discovered some matches and a candle on a shelf under the table. I struck -a match and lighted the candle. Letting some of the tallow drip onto -the table, I made a stick for it. I then sat down on the edge of the -bunk and anxiously awaited developments. But nothing occurred to mar the -somber silence of my prison. - -Thus I remained until my watch pointed to the hour of nine. My journey -had greatly fatigued me, but my fears counterbalanced my weariness, so -that I kept awake in spite of it. - -At length, however, my eyelids grew heavy; my eyes became bleary, so that -the candle multiplied, and my head drooped until my chin rested on my -chest. - -Letting the candle burn, I lay back on the hard bunk. I was cold and -very nervous, and greatly felt the need of food and dry clothing. But my -fatigue soon overcame me and I fell asleep. - -When I awakened, a sense of suffocation and bewilderment hung over me. -Whereas the room had been cold when I lay down, it now seemed close and -hot. I pulled myself to a sitting posture. The room was dark. The candle -was out. - -I jumped to my feet and started toward the table. But in another moment I -stood frozen to the spot, my eyes arrested and my body palsied by what I -saw before me. - - * * * * * - -At the far end of the room was a purple glow in the shape of a human -heart. It was stationary when I saw it, but almost immediately it began -to move about the room. Now it was at the window. Then beside the table. -Again it moved quickly but silently into the other room. - -I pulled my frightened senses together and groped my way to the table. I -found a match. With trembling hands, I struck it and lit the candle. To -my surprise, it was almost as tall as when I had fallen asleep. I looked -at my watch. It was one o’clock. - -A moment later the flame was snuffed out and I was again in total -darkness. I looked wildly about me. Horrors! The purple heart was beside -me! I shrank back in terror. It came closer. - -Suddenly I acquired superhuman courage. I grasped for the spectre. I -touched nothing. I placed my left hand before me at arm’s length. _Lo!_ -it was between me and my hand! - -Presently it moved away. A great calm settled over me and I began to -sense a presence in the room. Now, without any fear and with steady -hand, I again struck a match and lighted the candle. It was promptly -extinguished. I struck another with similar results. - -And now something brushed my lips and an arm was passed lightly about my -shoulders, but I was no longer afraid. The room continued cozily warm, -and a greater sense of peace came over me. - -Presently I lay down again and watched the purple heart as it came toward -me and took its place at the edge of the bunk, like some loved one -sitting beside me. - -I must have fallen asleep again, for I knew no more until broad daylight -awakened me, and I found myself lying in the middle of the room. There -was no fog. The sun was shining brightly, and a broad beam was streaming -through the dusty window pane. The candle and the matches were no longer -visible. - -Suddenly I thought of the locked door. Springing to it, I gave a mighty -pull. It opened easily! - -I snatched my cap from the rough floor and hurried into the warm sunlight. - -A short distance from me a man came trudging along. He was a -powerful-looking fellow of middle age and was dressed in coarse working -clothes. - -“Do you know anything about that cabin?” I shouted, as we drew closer. - -“Sure. It’s haunted,” he replied. He looked hard at me. “Were _you_ in -there last night?” - -I related my experience. - -“That’s queer!” he muttered. “But I ain’t surprised. Last night was the -night.” - -“What night?” I demanded. - -“Ten years ago an old man was murdered in that cabin, and his son swore -on his deathbed he’d come back every anniversary and lure somebody into -the cabin for the night and torture him.” - -He shuddered, his white face staring at the cabin. - -“Come away!” he whispered. “Come away! It’s haunted! It’s haunted!” - - - - -FELINE - -_A Whimsical Storiette_ - -_By_ Bruce Grant - - -Myra looked up from her writing. - -“David,” she said, “I am positive I heard a cat outside.” - -The man only growled, settled himself deeper in his comfortable chair, -and continued to read. - -The giant breath of the blizzard rattled the windows. The snow flung -itself wrathfully against the panes. Outside it was bitter cold. - -“I can’t bear to think of a cat outside on a night like this,” continued -Myra. - -“Forget it!” exclaimed David, arousing himself. “You are continually -thinking of cats. All that I hear from you is cats. You dream of cats, -you occupy your mind with cats. I heard no cat crying outside. It is -only your imagination.” - -“No; I heard a cat—I am sure,” insisted Myra. - -It was warm inside. David sat beneath a green-shaded reading lamp. The -pyramid of light fell on his tall figure, attired in a dressing-gown and -slippers, slouched comfortably in the chair. - -Myra sat at a desk, scribbling in a book, now and then tapping her lips -with her penholder. She wore a clinging, yellow negligée, and her hair -was done back tightly on her head. In her sleek, brown coil of hair at -the back there was a large Spanish comb. - -“David; I _know_ I heard a cat then!” she cried, throwing down her pen. -“You surely must have heard it, too.” - -David laid down his book. - -“When you are through dreaming of cats,” he said, “I’ll be able to read.” - -Myra rose. - -“I cannot bear to think of a cat out on a night like this—a little -homeless cat.” - -Then she walked from the room. - -David mused. _Cats!_ Nothing but cats! She had gone insane on the subject -of cats. He had never known her to be so unreasonable about cats. She -seemed worse since their cat, Rodolpho, had died. Her mind seemed now -occupied with nothing but cats. He was sure she had been writing -something about cats in her book. - -To prove his contention he walked to the desk. He picked up the small, -leather-bound book. He read: - - _“THE SNOWSTORM._ - - _“Against the pane the snow flakes press_ - _Like dainty kitten paws._ - _Outside the chill wind stings and cuts,_ - _Like angry kitten claws.”_ - -David laid the note-book down. There! He had been right. He strode back -to his chair. Myra returned to the room. - -“I looked out of the dining-room window,” she said. “I could not see the -cat. It is awful outside.” - -She paused. - -“Cats are such unfortunate creatures. In fact, all animals are -unfortunate—animals domesticated by man. They never know when their -masters are going to turn against them, or at least ignore them.” - -“People treat cats that way because cats are good for nothing,” David put -in. “Cats enter your home, eat your food, roll up on your bed, and do -nothing. Rat traps are better for catching rats and mice. You don’t need -cats in the scheme of things. They are worthless.” - -“Yes,” added Myra softly, in a passionless voice. “A woman comes into -your home, and eats your food, and spends your money, and curls up on -your bed. A cook and a housekeeper can do better work than she.” - -“There is no comparison,” cried David. “A woman at least shows you some -affection—a cat never.” - -“A woman shows affection when she knows that it is wanted,” Myra said in -a distant voice. - -There was an awkward silence. These arguments never came to anything. -Why did they indulge in them? They always led to disagreeable subjects, -or touched on the fatuity of marriage. No, such arguments never did any -good. Far better if both remained silent. David picked up his book. - -“Cats are very intelligent animals,” Myra continued, half aloud. “They -know instantly when they are not wanted. If anyone in a household hates -a cat, there is no need of that person speaking gruffly or striking the -cat. The cat will know. Cats have powers of divination which are denied -most humans. They are such sensitive creatures. They respond to the least -touch, the least kind thought. They slink away at the least unkind word, -at the least unkind thought.” - -She hesitated, trifling with her pen. - -“They know when they are not wanted. I should not be surprised if a cat -would go out into the cold—on a night like this—if it knew it was not -wanted.” - -“Stop such darn foolishness!” growled David. - -Myra looked at him, raising her eyebrows quizzically. - -“Please don’t talk that way,” she said. - -For an instant there came over him a surge of hatred. Would she ever -leave him alone! Alone for a few minutes of peaceful reading. Wasn’t she -contented to live quietly and peacefully without continually worrying -herself about cats, and whether or not her husband still loved her. - -She was talking: - -“It is true I love cats. I have loved them all my life. They are the most -beautiful and graceful of animals. But please forgive me if I hurt you by -talking about them. They show me affection. They seem to know that I love -them.” - -But David was not listening. He was thinking. She was like a cat. Her -movements were catlike. Truly, she was every inch a cat. Come into your -home, absorb your warmth, eat your food, taunt you, insist on being -stroked and petted at every turn—truly a remarkable woman, as remarkable -as those small animals she adored, David scowled. - -Events tumbled over themselves in his mind. She was susceptible to men. -When one caressed her with his voice she almost purred with pleasure. She -loved those who flattered her. He had flattered her most and had won her. -She now still expected all the flattery and little attentions which he -had given her before. She could not “settle down.” He felt that he exuded -hate at that moment. He felt that at last his eyes were opened. - -Myra got up from her desk again. - -“I’m going out into the back yard and see if I can find that kitty,” she -announced. - -David could not read now. He sat silently in his chair, repressing the -wrathful things that tried to force themselves from his lips. He heard -Myra putting on her shoes. - -She peeped in finally and smiled wistfully. He sat in the same spot. The -back door closed softly. - -David gradually began to grow calmer. He sat and waited. In the silent -house, the quiet broken only by the rattling of the windows and the -thudding of the snow against the glass, he began to look back over his -married life. - -They had been more or less happy during the three years. It would be hard -to find another woman who would put up with his idiosyncrasies. What a -fool he was! Myra was a wonderful woman, after all, the most wonderful in -the world! - -He walked to the back door and called out into the night. He rushed -through the snow and the cutting wind. He returned and waited. The clock -told off the long hours. - -Then it came to him—Myra’s words, “I should not be surprised if a cat -would go out on a night like this—into the cold—if it knew it was not -wanted....” - - - - -Chicagoans to Live in the Air Fifty Years Hence - - -Fifty years from now Chicago’s citizens will no longer be rooted to the -ground, but will fly in the air like birds, according to Mrs. William J. -Chalmers, who has been closely identified with the city’s progress. - -“As we overstepped the bounds between earth and water, so we will -overstep that between earth and air,” she declares. “Whether it will be -through some simple device which we will attach to our shoulders or feet, -or whether we will learn breath control so that we can literally swim -through the air, I cannot say. Certainly in fifty years this will come to -pass—that we will all own small aeroplanes, so perfected that it will be -possible for us to alight on the window ledges of our apartments, whether -they be ten or twenty stories high. Chicago will, fifty years hence, have -become a seaport. Steam-ships will be run electricity and will attain -tremendous speed. But steamers will be used for heavy loads and passenger -travel will be by aeroplane.” - - - - -TWO HOURS OF DEATH - -_A Ghost Story_ - -_By_ E. THAYLES EMMONS - - -_A few weeks ago, while looking over some old papers which I found in -the desk of my deceased father, I chanced upon the following manuscript. -Whether it is a true record of some adventure in my father’s life, or -a bit of fiction which he had at some time prepared for publication, -I do not know; but I am inclined to believe that it is indeed a true -narrative. I have ascertained that such a man as Felix Sayres actually -did exist; that he was an intimate friend of my father, and that he died -in the strange manner described in the manuscript; but further than that -I know nothing. However, I submit the whole thing as I found it, without -change._ - - * * * * * - -As I picked up my morning paper, the first item to catch my eye was the -following: - - DIES IN MADHOUSE - - INMATE FOR THIRTY-FIVE YEARS DIES SUDDENLY. - - Felix Sayres, aged 69 years, who has been an inmate of the - Eastwood Asylum for the Insane for the past thirty-five years, - was found dead in his cell yesterday morning. At one time - he was a well-known scientist of this city, but at the age - of thirty-four became hopelessly insane, and has since been - confined in the asylum, of which he was, at the time of his - death, the oldest inmate. - -Felix Sayres was my college chum, and in later years my closest friend, -and now that he is dead I am at liberty to reveal the remarkable story -concerning him, a part of which not even he has ever known, though a -principal actor in the awful scene which has been indelibly stamped on -my memory, haunting my waking hours and recurring to me in oft-repeated -dreams. - -My friend was a man of genius and ability, and had it not been for the -terrible misfortune which came upon him, he would have become famous in -the scientific world. Nearly all of his time, day and night, was given -over to scientific research, in finding and working upon new hypotheses -and bringing to light discoveries in that strange world into which he had -evidently been born. - -I was at that time his most intimate friend, and to me a great many of -his hopes and secrets were confided. Many nights have I passed in his -laboratory, listening to his explanation of some new theory, or aiding -him in his experiments. - -It was always a source of great pleasure to me thus to pass a portion of -my time, although my mind was not of the same scientific trend as that of -my friend. His theories were always so lucidly elaborated and so strong -fundamentally that the most abstract of them seemed, even in the embryo, -capable of actual demonstration, and so great was my confidence in him -that I always stood ready to assist in any experiment or test. - -At one point, however, I drew the line. Sayres, while none the less -engaged with material subjects, was constantly dabbling in various -psychical experiments with which I refused absolutely to have anything -to do. The occult, I argued, should remain occult. Had it been intended -that we should see beyond the things of this world the power would have -been given us ages ago, I maintained, and the less one dealt with such -unsolvable problems as vexed my friend the happier would be his life. -Having no desire for knowledge of the supernatural, I studiously avoided -all dealing with it, and it was tacitly understood, between Sayres and -myself, that beyond the line of ordinary conversation the subject was -forbidden. I knew, however, that for him the thing had great fascination -and that my opinion did nothing to banish it from his mind. - -At the time of which I write I had not seen Sayres for several weeks, as -was often the case when he was deepest in his books and experiments. I -had called at his laboratory, but his servant had said that no one was -to be admitted, and I knew that it was useless to attempt to see him. -At length I received a letter from him, saying that he had something of -interest to disclose and urging me to “come tonight!” - -When I arrived at my friend’s laboratory I found him in a high state of -nervous excitement, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. He greeted -me effusively, and with his usual directness, plunged at once into the -matter at hand, which was evidently uppermost in his mind. Seating -himself at the opposite side of the table and directly facing me, he -began: - -“Thornton, I want you to prepare yourself to hear of something that is -to be entirely different from anything I have heretofore shown you. -It is something that to mankind has always been vague, uncertain, -unfathomable—something, in fact, that has existed only in imagination and -in theory, but never in demonstration. I will show it to you tonight, and -to the world tomorrow, in such a manner as entirely to revolutionize life -and living, death and dying. - -“As you very well know, my religious beliefs have always been skeptical; -but my skepticism has arisen rather from insufficiency of faith with -which to overcome the lack of direct evidence which mortals have -concerning spiritual things than from stubborn unbelief. That there is a -Supreme Being I have never doubted. His many works are too manifest, and -it is impossible to conceive of such a creation as this earth and all its -delicate mechanisms, and of the rest of the universe with all its unknown -wonders, without some vast Supernatural oversight. - -“Although I have never discussed the subject to any great extent, I -have nursed it as a pet and secret hobby, and have spent many hours in -work along certain lines in connection with it. In the beginning, I put -finiteness aside from the question. The human mind, or soul, with its -unlimited powers, has always been regarded by me as the most wonderful -of all creations. I have been able to find no entirely satisfactory -definition of this ‘mind’ from a purely physical standpoint, and -therefore sought to obtain one. Nobody will say that the soul is -material; it belongs to the body and develops with it, but is no part of -it. - -“Life is but a taper, which a slight breath may easily puff out, but -this indeterminable thing called ‘mind,’ I reasoned, must be governed by -different laws. Is it possible that the Creator ruled that the greatest -of all His works should be blotted out with the cessation of life in that -sordid mass of clay, the body? Or did He arrange to reclaim it, together -with its spiritual complement, to a world of its own, as men have for -ages believed? - -“Skeptic as I have been, I have always been willing to concede that the -idea of a spiritual existence, while vague, seems no more wonderful than -thousands of other things which we see about us daily, and for the reason -that they are manifest, give them no thought whatever. - -“As a basis for the theory which I set myself to formulate, I took what -I shall term ‘mind atoms.’ As I have before said, we cannot regard the -mind force as a material thing; but, as a contradictory fact, we know -that it is _something_, and further than that generality we are ignorant. -Then, as the mind force governs alike every portion of the body, this -indeterminable something of which it is composed, I reasoned, must be in -one portion as in another. - -“I then placed these mind atoms as being diffused in the space occupied -by the body and lying even between the atoms of its material composition. -If, at death, this mind is merely withdrawn from the body—all of which I -worked upon as already determined—would it not occupy in the spirit world -the same space and retain the same shape of the human form from which it -had fled? - -“Then the idea suggested itself that if some powerful and undiscovered -action could be produced (by the use of drugs, probably), causing an -instantaneous and simultaneous separation of every mind atom from the -physical atoms, the effect would be a spiritual death, while at the same -time physical vitality would not be in the least impaired. I then went -one step further and added the supposition that as the effects of the -action wore away it would be possible for the soul to re-enter the body, -even as it had been driven out, and creation would again be complete. - -“I have worked untiringly, and wrought experiment after experiment, until -at last I have succeeded in producing a drug that will accomplish all -that I have explained to you. I have used it on various animals and have -seen them recover from the effects of it, and thus have ascertained that -it is harmless. I ventured to try it on myself, and I know that _I have -certainly solved the mystery of the future_, although during the brief -period in which my soul was in the spirit world I could make but few -observations, and those of minor importance. - -“I saw no other spiritual beings, but remained, for the most, close by -my soulless body, waiting for the proper moment to return to my physical -life, if it were indeed to be possible; but I am confident that what I -have accomplished renders the unrevealed capable of being revealed and -robs the hereafter of all its secrets.” - - * * * * * - -He paused, and for a moment, so bewildered was I by the strangeness of it -all, that I sat speechless, my brain in a whirl. - -Thinking to overcome my amazement, I reached for the wine decanter, which -was on the table before me, and into the glass nearest me I poured some -of the strong wine which Sayres always kept at hand. After draining it, I -looked up to see a gleam of satisfaction flit across his countenance. - -“Thornton,” said he, “in that glass of wine there was enough of the drug -to render you temporarily dead for two hours, as I can best calculate. -In five minutes you will be unconscious. I want you to undergo the same -experience which I have safely passed through, so that we may later -exchange ideas on the subject.” - -In spite of his assurance, a deadly fear took possession of me, and I -swore and expostulated at his unfair treatment. With undisturbed calm, he -again spoke to me, endeavoring to dispel my fears, and assuring me that -he would be conversing with me again at the end of the two hours. - -Even as he was speaking his words became indistinct, and an overpowering -dizziness seized me. Then came a moment of which I have no recollection, -after which, by the fact that I stood, or _seemed_ to stand, within a few -feet of the chair in which I had been seated, _gazing at myself_, even -now in the same position, I knew that my body was without a soul, even as -Sayres had said, and that I was the soul standing there! - -I looked about me, and in place of the invisible atmosphere which I was -accustomed to, the room seemed filled with a constantly moving, pulsating -vapor, dense, gray and foglike, but through which I could discern objects -with as much ease as ordinarily. - -I saw my friend lift my body from the chair, lay it on a bench and place -a cushion under the head. Then he began pacing to and fro, up and down, -back and forth, and I found that I could move about at will and follow -him. - -I attempted to speak to him, but now there was no sound; I reached forth -my hand to grasp a chair, but it offered no resistance, and I realized -that I indeed occupied no space, but was nevertheless in space and a -part of space. I saw my friend’s lips move as though he were speaking. I -heard no sound, but was able to understand his words, although he did not -address me. - -The glare of the lamps gave me a sensation which, had I been in my -physical form, I should have termed pain, and I much preferred to keep in -a dark corner. By a direct mental communication, of which I was not at -the time aware, I was able to signify this fact to Sayres, and he at once -turned out all the lights, leaving the laboratory lighted only by a low -fire in the grate at the end of the room. I was then astonished to find -that the absence of light had no effect upon my visual powers, and that I -could see in the dark as well as before. - -From this I drew the conclusion that in reality I possessed no visuality, -as it seemed. My senses I had left behind with my physical self, and -here they were replaced by a strange comprehension of everything about -me. I still had the abilities which the senses convey, but their actual -presence was lacking. - -I could flit through the air with as much ease as I could walk on the -floor, and could even have sunk through that same floor had I desired, -for the most solid substance offered no resistance to my form. I was able -to pass directly through anything. - -The success of the experiment, up to this point, served to restore my -confidence in Sayres and I entertained no doubt but that at the end of -the stated time I could return to my body again. I therefore determined -to lose no time in making all the observations possible. - -Sayres was still pacing the room, and it was evident from his actions -that in a large degree fear was the cause of his restlessness. He knew -that in all probability I was constantly near him, and he would have -avoided coming in contact with me had he been able to do so. Felix Sayres -possessed courage beyond that of many men, but few mortals can be brought -face to face with the supernatural without experiencing fear. - -All of us have at various times—sometimes by day, but more often at -night—undergone the feeling of the proximity of some ghostly presence, -giving rise to a sensation of coldness and choking horror. This was -clearly demonstrated to me now, for whenever myself and Sayres came -within a few feet of each other I could easily see that he felt my -presence. He made no attempt to communicate with me and paid no heed to -the various things I did to attract his attention. - -After a little, he seemed to recover himself and calmly walked across -the room to where my soulless body lay, and stood looking down at it. -By the gleam in his eyes, and by my wonderful supernatural power of -comprehension, I knew in an instant that overwork and nervous strain had -at last done their work, that the cord of reason had snapped and that my -friend was a madman! - -His lips moved and I heard him, or rather _felt_ him, address my body: - -“At last I have you in my power! I have waited long for this moment, and -at last my waiting is to be rewarded. I have driven the soul from the -body, and the body lives; but now I will take away life itself, and you -will be dead!” - -The word seemed to please him, and he murmured slowly: - -“Dead, _dead_!” - - * * * * * - -I heard him continue in his madness: - -“It is you who have stolen the honors due me; it is you who would prevent -me from becoming famous; it is you, curse you, who will marry the only -woman I can ever love—and then you ask me to let you live! No, damn you!” - -He then took from a drawer nearby a large and peculiarly-shaped -dissecting knife which I had often seen him use, and, with the -deliberation of the insane, he proceeded to sharpen it on a steel, -testing it from time to time with his thumb. - -In my overpowering fear for the safety of my physical self, I know not -all that I did, but I do know that it was all in vain. How I longed for -the power of speech! And what would I not have given for the use of my -own strong body with which to cope with him! - -But I was utterly in his power and at his mercy, and the sickening -thought came to me that I, the spirit, must stand passive by his side and -see my body, still living, hacked and mutilated by the knife he held. I -called for help, but knew there was no sound, and in despair I waited. - -I heard the madman that was once my friend mutter: “That will do,” and, -with the gleaming blade in his hand, he started across the room, and I -knew that the awful moment was at hand. - -I attempted to grapple with him, but my hands felt nothing. Another step -and he would be at the bench and it would all be over. Instinctively, -I threw myself between the madman and my body, with my arms stretched -forth as if to keep him away. How it was accomplished I cannot tell, but -by the look of mortal terror that came in the face before me, such as I -have never since seen drawn in any countenance, I knew that I had _become -visible_ and that he saw me! - -I can imagine the picture at this moment—the spirit guarding the -helpless counterpart of itself—and indeed it must have been a tableau -to have struck fear to the stoutest heart. My friend’s eyes dilated with -horror; the knife dropped from his hand. - -One moment thus he stood. Then his lips parted, and I knew that he had -uttered a shriek. He then fell at my feet, blood flowing from his mouth -and nostrils, his eyes rolling in terror. - -I remained chained to the spot by the fear that he would recover from his -fit and carry out his fiendish intention. - -At length the same feeling of dizziness, which I had before experienced, -returned to me, and almost before I could realize what was taking place -I found myself sitting upright on the bench, body and soul again united, -and the form of Sayres at my feet, to convince me that all was not a -hideous dream. - -I placed my poor friend on the bench, and finally I succeeded in bringing -him back to consciousness, but in a very weak condition. - -He passed through a very severe illness, but never regained his sanity. -He remained hopelessly insane. - -Of this awful story I have related he never recollected any part. I was -unable to find any of the wonderful drug in his laboratory, and am as -ignorant of its composition now as I was on that terrible night. I have -been silent on the matter, hoping that some day Sayres would again regain -his reason, but now that he is dead I have been impelled to write this -narrative. - - - - -Neurotic Women Have Queer Mania - - -The astonishing fraud perpetrated by Evelyn Lyons of Escanaba, Michigan, -who, with the aid of a hot water bottle, fooled the doctors into -believing that she had a fever of 118 degrees, is not without precedent. -She was the victim of an odd mania that often seizes abnormal women who -crave wide notoriety. Doctors and psychologists have long been acquainted -with this strange caprice of neurotic women, but it is rarely that one -maintains the fake illness for as long a time as did Miss Lyons, who set -the nation’s medical fraternity in a tempest of learned discussion before -her sham was discovered. - -This erratic desire to be an object of curiosity often takes other forms, -as in the case of Mary Ellen MacDonald of Antigonish, Nova Scotia, -who, in order to attract attention, turned herself into a “spook.” By -starting mysterious fires around her home, walking stealthily through -the farmhouse at night and slapping the faces of sleeping persons, -rapping on the walls and so forth, she contrived to spread a feeling of -dread throughout the countryside. The superstitious country folk were -sure that the house was haunted, and as Miss MacDonald carried her hoax -still further—sending weird radio messages, tying knots in the tails of -cows, attiring herself in ghostly gowns and fleeing across the moonlit -fields—the fear of disembodied spirits spread rapidly, and the uncanny -“manifestations” became a matter of nation-wide discussion. - -Spiritualists, mediums, and others journeyed to Antigonish, and, after -watching the unearthly “phenomena,” were unanimously agreed that a -spirit, or spirits, had returned to haunt the community. - -Then Dr. Walter Prince of the Psychical Research Society went there, -investigated the “ghost” more thoroughly, and traced all the terrifying -happenings to Mary Ellen MacDonald. - -Meanwhile, however, Miss MacDonald—like Miss Lyons, the “fever girl”—had -gratified her craving for notoriety. - - - - -_HAMILTON CRAIGIE Spins Another Yarn in His Inimitable Style_ - -MIDNIGHT BLACK - - -[Illustration] - -Rita Daventry sat bolt upright in her bed, her ears strained against the -singing silence, breath indrawn sharply through her parted lips. - -There had been no sound, save as a sound heard in dreams, but as she sat -there, rigid, tense, in the thick darkness, leaning forward a little in -the great bed, she was certain that she was not alone. - -Someone or _something_ was in the room. - -The blackness was like an invisible wall; it pressed upon her eyelids now -like a gigantic and smothering hand. And then, all at once, she heard it: -the brief _clink_ of metal upon metal; a rustle, like the flicker of a -wind-blown leaf. - -Simply by reaching forth her hand she could have pressed the wall switch, -flooded that midnight blackness with the blazing effulgence of the -electrolier, but she could not. Eyes strained against that velvet black, -she crouched now, in the immensity of the great bed, the silken case of -the sheets turned suddenly to ice, her pulses hammering to the tension of -her hard-held breathing, there in the stifling dark. - -There came a clanking, a whirring as of wings invisible; then, from the -wall clock, there boomed twelve heavy strokes—midnight. - -She heard the slow _tick-tock_ of that steady beat, and then, of a sudden -she heard something else: the muffled ticking of a watch. - -The sound was not loud—it came to her as through walls of silence—but it -was nearer now. She was certain of it. - -The door was closed; it was a heavy, sound-proof affair; the intruder, -whoever he might be, had entered by the window. Rita Daventry knew that -he was armed, and desperate—desperate with the cold courage of a cornered -grizzly; a housebreaker, who, if attacked, would shoot his way out, -reckless of consequences. To such a man, murder, as the price of his -liberty, would be a little thing. - -And with the thought she stiffened; her mouth opened, to release the -scream, at the first sound of which she knew that aid would come, -unthinking, swift, reckless, too, in its first fury of intrepid action. - -But she would not summon that scream. - -On the floor above, her husband was working now in his laboratory. But -the man below would have the advantage of that midnight black; with the -opening of the door, he would shoot him down with the ruthless, cold -cruelty of a wolf. - -But that was not all the reason. To Rita Daventry, alone now with this -invisible menace of the dark, there had come, on a sudden, a thought to -freeze her blood, the thought of Ronald Armitage. - -It had been only the night before, at a studio tea, that Armitage had -made the threat, or the promise, that came to her now with a sudden, -cold prevision of tragedy. Armitage was young, reckless, debonair, of -an engaging manner with women; and Rita had encouraged him—well, just a -little, she told herself. - -It was a fascinating game—in the playing. The paying—that would be -another matter. And as if the words had been spoken in her ear, she was -hearing now the smooth voice, thickened a trifle with his potations, with -that faintly roughened, passionate undertone: - -“... Daventry doesn’t care, does he? Why should _you_? I tell you, Rita, -you’ve gotten into my blood. Some night _between you and me_—the witching -hour, ha? I _promise_ you I’ll be there; and you won’t have to _look_ to -find me!” - -The handsome, dissipated face had come close to hers; there had been a -menace in the tone, as well as a caress. And the fact that the man had -been—well—not himself could not condone. The noise, the lights, the music -upon which, dancing together, they had floated as on a languorous, steep -wave of sound and motion, could not condone. - -Rita had had no excuse save the oft-repeated, sophisticated sophistry -of “The last time; this will be the very last!” And she had gone on, -protesting, if at all, with a half-mutinous, wholly unconsidered -coquetry, which, at the last, had led to this! - - * * * * * - -Ronald Armitage had the reputation of being something of a “blood;” the -Armitages had sowed and reaped, and of young Ronald it was said that he -would stop at nothing for the accomplishment of his desires. - -And now, alone in that vast bed, hearing again that stealthy movement by -the window, the girl checked again sharply in the act of reaching forth -her hand. With her finger upon the button, she froze, rigid, as that -smooth, stealthy advance moved closer. - -There came a fumbling at the footboard; she heard the sound, like a -faint, rubbing whisper, of naked fingers sliding upon polished wood. But -the night was a moonless, black emptiness; the bed-chamber was like a -tomb for blackness, dark as a wolf’s throat, and yet alive with movement, -with a tension drawn like a fine wire and singing at a pitch too low for -sound. - -At any moment, too, Daventry might come down; he was a careful man who -guarded his house and the treasure therein with a meticulous observance. -And sitting there, waiting, nerves at pitch, Rita Daventry tasted to the -full the fruits of her single indiscretion. As between Armitage and her -husband, she knew now beyond peradventure whom it was she loved, and with -a love, as she knew now, fierce and protective, desirous above all things -of the safety—the life, indeed, of the toiler on the second floor. - -Armitage had never been in her bedchamber, of course, although he knew -its location, had seen it, from the outside, walking with Daventry -through the corridor without. But in the darkness strange tricks are -played with one’s sense of direction. The room was a large one, lofty, -high-ceilinged, its rear windows opening upon a service alley, and it had -been by means of this alley that the midnight intruder had made entrance. - -She could hear him now a little better—his breathing, hard-held and -yet rising to that peculiar, stertorous quality that was almost like a -snuffling, a quick, eager panting as of a hound questing his quarry in -the dark. If Armitage had been drinking—but then, he must have been, or -he would scarcely have made good his threat. - -Daventry, though a studious, careful man, was a lion when aroused; he -could shoot and shoot straight. And if the two should meet, there in that -midnight black, it would be grim tragedy for one, or both—tragedy with -none for witness save that pale girl new-risen from her couch of dreams, -wide-eyed, her gaze fixed now in a sightless staring upon the black well -of the night. - -And then, as she shrank backward against the pillows, there came a -thumping clatter, a thick, whispered oath, and a following silence that -was more terrible than any sound. - -He was coming now, around the foot-board, along the side of the bed. -She felt rather than heard that fumbling, stealthy advance; the fingers -feeling along the counterpane; the noiseless _pad-pad_ of the feet -deadened by the thick pile of the Kermanshah rug; in imagination she -could almost see the face, flushed now, bemused with drink, the leering, -parted mouth.... - -The scream, lodged in her throat now, seemed like a bird beating against -bars; in a moment the silence would be ripped from end to end, as a -sheet is ripped from point to point, with the tearing impact of that -scream, rising heavenward with the first defiling touch of those groping -fingers. Armitage’s face on that evening had been the face of a satyr, -high-colored, the nose sharpened to a point of greed, the eyes in a wide, -avid staring upon the perfect curve of her shoulders, her neck. - -And she had encouraged him with by-play of hand and eye, speech in a low -rich contralto dealing in double meanings that yet had no meaning; glance -provocative plumbing the depths of his—for this. - -And in that moment Rita Daventry knew fear; the primal fear of the woman -whose very protection has become her peril—the peril of the abyss. - -And it was then that she heard it, like a summons of doom; the sound of -heavy footsteps from the room above. - - * * * * * - -The footsteps were coming down now; they beat hollowly against the iron -treads of the staircase with rapid thunder. - -Robert Daventry was coming, leaping downward, now to meet—the death that -waited for him behind that closed door, or to deal it to the man who, -somewhere in that smothering dark, crouched, automatic ready, waiting for -the man who was coming—on the wings of death. - -After all, her husband might not have heard that thumping clatter; all -unknowing, he might be rushing downward to meet an ambush unsuspected and -unknown. And that Armitage would shoot, the woman was convinced. For he -would put but one construction upon that headlong descent. Daventry had -heard him, knew that he was there, like a thief in the night, a marauder, -an outlaw meriting the swift justice of the ballet. - -And then, all at once, the steps ceased; a silence grew and held that -was like the silence before storm, so that to the woman upon the bed it -seemed that she abode in a vacuum of sound and silence, brooding upon the -night in a volcanic, breathless calm. - -It must be a nightmare that would pass, a waking dream that would -presently dissolve in the sanity of peaceful slumber. She strove, as a -drowning swimmer fathoms deep in dreams, to scream a warning, a command -to the man—_her_ man—silent now upon the threshold of life, or of death. -But she could not. - -And presently, how she could not have told, she knew that, where before -there had been but _one_ dim Presence in that bed-chamber, now there were -_two_. - -She had heard nothing, seen nothing, felt nothing; neither the opening -nor the closing of the heavy door; no faintest sound of breathing; the -silence held, borrowing a tension from the electric air. Remote, as -through many thicknesses of walls, there came to her now, as from a world -removed, the night noises of the City, muted by distance to a vague -shadow of clamor, faint and far. - -But that velvet black before her was, as she knew, most terribly endowed -with motion, sinister, alive, awaiting merely the spark, the pressure of -rigid finger upon trigger, the touch of hand against hand, the faintest -whisper of a sound, to dissolve in a chaos of red ruin—and with it the -ruin of her world. - -Abruptly, again she heard that muffled ticking, this time close at -hand, and with it, as she fancied, the faint breathing of a man. But -even as she heard it, it receded, died; there came the faint _snick_ -of metal upon metal, like the _snick_ and slither of a steel blade; it -was followed by a sort of chugging impact, like the sound made by a -knife sheathed home, say, at the base of a man’s brain, or between the -shoulders—a sound to freeze the blood. - -That Armitage could have been capable of this she could not believe, -but upon the instant her flesh crawled abruptly at the thought; of the -invisible duelists but one remained now, and he was coming toward her; -she fancied she could hear the faint, scarce-audible footfall on the -thick pile of the rug. - -And then—the silence was abruptly broken by a shattering crash. The -intruder, unfamiliar with the room’s interior, had swept a great vase -from the mantel. - -And then, distinct and clear, she heard the sodden impact of fist on -flesh, a heaving grunt, the lift and strain of heavy bodies, close-locked. - -And following this, in a sudden fury, all round the room the pictures -rattled in their frames; the flooring shook; a heavy desk went over in a -smashing ruin; grunts followed it, the straining shock of big men in a -death-grapple. But mostly it was a fight in silence and darkness, with -the quick, hard breathing of men at the last desperate urge of their -spent strength. - -With her finger again upon the light-switch, again she hesitated, and -in that flash of time she heard all at once a quick, sobbing breath—a -groan—then silence. - -Somewhere out there in that midnight blackness her husband might be -lying wounded—dead—above him the beast whom she had known as Ronald -the Debonair, turning his face now toward the girl who, shivering and -defenseless, crouched forlorn upon the bed. - -But even as this fresh terror out of the dark assailed her, there came a -heavy crash—another—the barking rattle of an automatic, the quick flashes -stabbing into the murk to right and left. - -The roaring crashes beat upon her ears like a tocsin of doom, and then, -in answer, three answering shots, deliberate, slow. With them there came -the slumping fall of a heavy body, and the labored breathing of a man. - -The duel was over. - -For a moment the silence held. Dreading what the coming of the light -might reveal, her finger, hovering upon the push-button, came away; -then, with an agony of effort, made a darting thrust. - -And as the light sprang to full flower she looked with white face and -staring eyes, upon the tall figure in the doorway. - -It was Robert Daventry! - - * * * * * - -But her hysterical, glad cry was stifled in her throat as her husband, -bending forward over the rug, turned over the dead man with his foot. - -Fearful, yet eager to see, she rose upon her knees, peering with wide -eyes over the foot-board. - -Then—hysteria seized her with, by turns, a sudden storm of mingled -weeping and frantic laughter. - -“That.... _That_...!” she cried, pointing a shaking finger at the still -figure on the carpet. - -And then: - -“Oh, my God!... it might have been—!” - -But Daventry, gazing with a grim face at the rigid figure of the -housebreaker—the unclean skin, with its bristly stubble of unshaven chin, -blue now under the lights—thought it merely the natural reaction of the -terrific strain which she had undergone. - -“You mean—it might have been—_me_!” he said slowly. “Well—of course....” - -“Of course, Dear,” lied Rita Daventry, with a misty smile. - - - - -Mummies Made by Electricity - - -R. F. McCampbell, a Chicago undertaker, claims he has invented a process -of embalming a dead body so that it will last forever. For twelve years -Mr. McCampbell has been working on his process, and he now exhibits a -modern mummy, lying in grandeur in an elaborate coffin, as proof that -he has succeeded. By dehydrating a body with electricity, he says, its -natural expression, even its complexion, may be preserved for ages. - -“In the dehydration process performed by the Egyptians,” said Mr. -McCampbell, “the body was buried in the sand for seventy days. Then linen -was wrapped about the corpse to prevent reabsorption of water and the -body was placed away in a tomb. Through the electrical process the body -will retain its lifelike appearance. It will be particularly valuable for -preserving the bodies of great men so that future generations may see -them as lifelike as the day they died.” - - - - -MASTERPIECES OF WEIRD FICTION - -_No. 1—The Haunted and the Haunters; or, The House and the Brain_ - -_By_ BULWER LYTTON - - -A friend of mine, who is a man of letters and a philosopher, said to me -one day, as if between jest and earnest, “Fancy! since we last met I have -discovered a haunted house in the midst of London.” - -“Really haunted—and by what?—ghosts?” - -“Well, I can’t answer that question; all I know is this: six weeks ago -my wife and I were in search of a furnished apartment. Passing a quiet -street, we saw on the window of one of the houses a bill, ‘Apartments, -Furnished.’ The situation suited us; we entered the house, liked the -rooms, engaged them by the week—and left them the third day. No power on -earth could have reconciled my wife to stay longer; and I don’t wonder at -it.” - -“What did you see?” - -“Excuse me; I have no desire to be ridiculed as a superstitious -dreamer—nor, on the other hand, could I ask you to accept on my -affirmation what you would hold to be incredible without the evidence of -your own senses. Let me only say this, it was not so much what we saw or -heard (in which you might fairly suppose that we were the dupes of our -own excited fancy, or the victims of imposture in others) that drove us -away, as it was an indefinable terror which seized both of us whenever -we passed by the door of a certain unfurnished room, in which we neither -saw nor heard anything. And the strange marvel of all was, that for once -in my life I agreed with my wife, silly woman though she be—and allowed, -after the third night, that it was impossible to stay a fourth in that -house. Accordingly, on the fourth morning I summoned the woman who kept -the house and attended on us, and told her that the rooms did not quite -suit us, and we would not stay out our week. She said dryly, ‘I know why; -you have stayed longer than any other lodger. Few ever stayed a second -night; none before you a third. But I take it they have been very kind -to you.’ - -“‘They—who?’ I asked, affecting to smile. - -“‘Why, they who haunt the house, whoever they are. I do not mind them. -I remember them many years ago, when I lived in this house, not as a -servant; but I know they will be the death of me some day. I don’t -care,—I’m old, and must die soon anyhow; and then I shall be with them, -and in this house still.’ The woman spoke with so dreary a calmness -that really it was a sort of awe that prevented my conversing with her -further. I paid for my week, and too happy were my wife and I to get off -so cheaply.” - -“You excite my curiosity,” said I; “nothing I should like better than to -sleep in a haunted house. Pray give me the address of the one which you -left so ignominiously.” - -My friend gave me the address; and when we parted, I walked straight -toward the house thus indicated. - -It is situated on the north side of Oxford Street, in a dull but -respectable thoroughfare. I found the house shut up—no bill at the -window, and no response to my knock. As I was turning away, a beer-boy, -collecting pewter pots at the neighboring areas, said to me, “Do you want -any one at that house, sir?” - -“Yes, I heard it was to be let.” - -“Let!—why, the woman who kept it is dead—has been dead these three weeks, -and no one can be found to stay there, though Mr. J⸺ offered ever so -much. He offered mother who chars for him, £1 a week just to open and -shut the windows, and she would not.” - -“Would not!—and why?” - -“The house is haunted; and the old woman who kept it was found dead in -her bed, with her eyes wide open. They say the devil strangled her.” - -“Pooh! You speak of Mr. J⸺. Is he the owner of the house?” - -“Yes.” - -“Where does he live?” - -“In G⸺ Street, No. —.” - -“What is he? In any business?” - -“No, sir—nothing particular; a single gentleman.” - -I gave the potboy the gratuity earned by his liberal information, and -proceeded to Mr. J⸺, in G⸺ Street, which was close by the street that -boasted the haunted house. I was lucky enough to find Mr. J⸺ at home—an -elderly man with intelligent countenance and prepossessing manners. - -I communicated my name and my business frankly. I said I heard the house -was considered to be haunted—that I had a strong desire to examine a -house with so equivocal a reputation; that I should be greatly obliged -if he would allow me to hire it, though only for a night. I was willing -to pay for that privilege whatever he might be inclined to ask. “Sir,” -said Mr. J⸺, with great courtesy, “the house is at your service, for as -short or as long a time as you please. Rent is out of the question—the -obligation will be on my side should you be able to discover the cause of -the strange phenomena which at present deprive it of all value. I cannot -let it, for I cannot even get a servant to keep it in order or answer -the door. Unluckily the house is haunted, if I may use that expression, -not only by night, but by day, though at night the disturbances are of -a more unpleasant and sometimes of a more alarming character. The poor -old woman who died in it three weeks ago was a pauper whom I took out -of a workhouse; for in her childhood she had been known to some of my -family, and had once been in such good circumstances that she had rented -that house of my uncle. She was a woman of superior education and strong -mind, and was the only person I could ever induce to remain in the house. -Indeed, since her death, which was sudden, and the coroner’s inquest, -which gave it a notoriety in the neighborhood, I have so despaired of -finding any person to take charge of the house, much more a tenant, that -I would willingly let it rent free for a year to anyone who would pay its -rates and taxes.” - -“How long is it since the house acquired the sinister character?” - -“That I can scarcely tell you, but very many years since. The old woman -I spoke of, said it was haunted when she rented it between thirty and -forty years ago. The fact is, that my life has been spent in the East -Indies, and in the civil service of the Company. I returned to England -last year, on inheriting the fortune of an uncle, among whose possessions -was the house in question. I found it shut up and uninhabited. I was -told that it was haunted, that no one would inhabit it. I smiled at what -seemed to me so idle a story. I spent some money in repairing it, added -to its old-fashioned furniture a few modern articles—advertised it, and -obtained a lodger for a year. He was a colonel on half pay. He came in -with his family, a son and a daughter, and four or five servants; they -all left the house the next day; and, although each of them declared that -he had seen something different from that which had scared the others, -a something still was equally terrible to all. I really could not in -conscience sue, nor even blame, the colonel for breach of agreement. -Then I put in the old woman I have spoken of, and she was empowered to -let the house in apartments. I never had one lodger who stayed more than -three days. I do not tell you their stories—to no two lodgers have there -been exactly the same phenomena repeated. It is better that you should -judge for yourself, than enter the house with an imagination influenced -by previous narratives; only be prepared to see and to hear something or -other, and take whatever precautions you yourself please.” - -“Have you never had a curiosity yourself to pass a night in that house?” - -“Yes, I passed not a night, but three hours in broad daylight alone in -that house. My curiosity is not satisfied, but it is quenched. I have no -desire to renew the experiment. You cannot complain, you see, sir, that I -am not sufficiently candid; and unless your interest be exceedingly eager -and your nerves unusually strong, I honestly add, that I advice you _not_ -to pass a night in that house.” - -“My interest is exceedingly keen,” said I; “and though only a coward will -boast of his nerves in situations wholly unfamiliar to him, yet my nerves -have been seasoned in such variety of danger that I have the right to -rely on them—even in a haunted house.” - -Mr. J⸺ said very little more; he took the keys of the house out of his -bureau, gave them to me—and, thanking him cordially for his frankness, -and his urbane concession to my wish, I carried off my prize. - -Impatient for the experiment, as soon as I reached home, I summoned my -confidential servant—a young man of gay spirits, fearless temper, and as -free from superstitious prejudice as anyone I could think of. - -“F⸺,” said I, “you remember in Germany how disappointed we were at not -finding a ghost in that old castle which was said to be haunted by a -headless apparition? Well, I have heard of a house in London which, I -have reason to hope, is decidedly haunted. I mean to sleep there tonight. -From what I hear, there is no doubt that something will allow itself to -be seen or heard—something, perhaps, excessively horrible. Do you think -if I take you with me, I may rely on your presence of mind, whatever may -happen?” - -“Oh, sir, pray trust me,” answered F⸺, grinning with delight. - -“Very well; then here are the keys of the house—this is the address. Go -now—select for me any bedroom you please; and since the house has not -been inhabited for weeks, make up a good fire, air the bed well—see, of -course, that there are candles as well as fuel. Take with you my revolver -and my dagger—so much for my weapons; arm yourself equally well; and if -we are not a match for a dozen ghosts, we shall be but a sorry couple of -Englishmen.” - -I was engaged for the rest of the day on business so urgent that I had -not leisure to think much on the nocturnal adventure to which I had -plighted my honor. I dined alone, and very late, and while dining, read, -as is my habit. I selected one of the volumes of Macaulay’s Essays. I -thought to myself that I would take the book with me; there was so much -of healthfulness in the style, and practical life in the subjects, that -it would serve as an antidote against the influences of superstitious -fancy. - -Accordingly, about half-past nine, I put the book into my pocket, and -strolled leisurely toward the haunted house. I took with me a favorite -dog: an exceedingly sharp, bold, and vigilant bull terrier,—a dog fond of -prowling about strange, ghostly corners and passages at night in search -of rats; a dog of dogs for a ghost. - -I reached the house, knocked, and my servant opened with a cheerful smile. - -We did not stay long in the drawing-rooms,—in fact, they felt so damp -and so chilly that I was glad to get to the fire upstairs. We locked -the doors of the drawing-rooms,—a precaution which, I should observe, -we had taken with all the rooms we had searched below. The bedroom my -servant had selected for me was the best on the floor,—a large one, with -two windows fronting the street. The four-posted bed, which took up no -inconsiderable space, was opposite to the fire, which burned clear and -bright; a door in the wall to the left, between the bed and the window, -communicated with the room which my servant appropriated to himself. -This last was a small room with a sofa bed, and had no communication -with the landing place,—no other door but that which conducted to the -bedroom I was to occupy. On either side of my fireplace was a cupboard -without locks, flush with the wall, and covered with the same dull-brown -paper. We examined these cupboards,—only hooks to suspend female dresses, -nothing else; we sounded the walls,—evidently solid, the outer walls of -the building. Having finished the survey of these apartments, warmed -myself a few moments, and lighted my cigar, I then still accompanied by -F⸺, went forth to complete my reconnoiter. In the landing place there was -another door; it was closed firmly. “Sir,” said my servant, in surprise, -“I unlocked this door with all the others when I first came; it cannot -have got locked from the inside, for—” - -Before he had finished his sentence, the door, which neither of us -then was touching, opened quietly of itself. We looked at each other a -single instant. The same thought seized both,—some human agency might be -detected here. I rushed in first, my servant followed. A small, blank, -dreary room without furniture; a few empty boxes and hampers in a corner; -a small window; the shutters closed; not even a fireplace; no other door -but that by which we had entered; no carpet on the floor, and the floor -seemed very old, uneven, worm-eaten, mended here and there, as was shown -by the whiter patches on the wood; but no living being, and no visible -place in which a living being could have hidden. As we stood gazing -round, the door by which we had entered closed as quietly as it had -before opened; we were imprisoned. - -For the first time I felt a creep of indefinable horror. Not so my -servant. “Why, they don’t think to trap us, sir; I could break that -trumpery door with a kick of my foot.” - -“Try first if it will open to your hand,” said I, shaking off the vague -apprehension that had seized me, “while I unclose the shutters and see -what is without.” - -I unbarred the shutters,—the window looked on the little back yard I have -before described; there was no ledge without,—nothing to break the sheer -descent of the wall. No man getting out of that window would have found -any footing till he had fallen on the stones below. - -F⸺, meanwhile, was vainly attempting to open the door. He now turned -round to me and asked my permission to use force. And I should -here state, in justice to the servant, that far from evincing any -superstitious terrors, his nerve, composure, and even gayety amidst -circumstances so extraordinary, compelled my admiration, and made me -congratulate myself on having secured a companion in every way fitted to -the occasion. I willingly gave him the permission he required. But though -he was a remarkably strong man, his force was as idle as his milder -efforts; the door did not even shake to his stoutest kick. Breathless and -panting, he desisted. I then tried the door myself, equally in vain. As I -ceased from the effort, again that creep of horror came over me; but this -time it was more cold and stubborn. I felt as if some strange and ghastly -exhalation were rising up from the chinks of that rugged floor, and -filling the atmosphere with a venomous influence hostile to human life. -The door now very slowly and quietly opened as of its own accord. We -precipitated ourselves into the landing place. We both saw a large, pale -light—as large as the human figure, but shapeless and unsubstantial—move -before us, and ascend the stairs that led from the landing into the -attics. I followed the light, and my servant followed me. It entered, to -the right of the landing, a small garret, of which the door stood open. -I entered in the same instant. The light then collapsed into a small -globule, exceedingly brilliant and vivid, rested a moment on a bed in the -corner, quivered, and vanished. We approached the bed and examined it,—a -half-tester, such as is commonly found in attics devoted to servants. On -the drawers that stood near it we perceived an old faded silk kerchief, -with the needle still left in a rent half repaired. The kerchief was -covered with dust; probably it had belonged to the old woman who had last -died in that house, and this might have been her sleeping room. I had -sufficient curiosity to open the drawers: there were a few odds and ends -of female dress, and two letters tied round with a narrow ribbon of faded -yellow. I took the liberty to possess myself of the letters. We found -nothing else in the room worth noticing,—nor did the light reappear; -but we distinctly heard, as we turned to go, a pattering footfall on the -floor, just before us. We went through the other attics (in all four), -the footfall still preceding us. Nothing to be seen—nothing but the -footfall heard. I had the letters in my hand; just as I was descending -the stairs I distinctly felt my wrist seized, and a faint, soft effort -made to draw the letters from my clasp. I only held them the more -tightly, and the effort ceased. - -We regained the bedchamber appropriated to myself, and I then remarked -that my dog had not followed us when we had left it. He was thrusting -himself close to the fire, and trembling. I was impatient to examine the -letters, and while I read them, my servant opened a little box in which -he had deposited the weapons I had ordered him to bring, took them out, -placed them on a table close at my bed head, and then occupied himself in -soothing the dog, who, however, seemed to heed him very little. - -The letters were short,—they were dated; the dates exactly thirty-five -years ago. They were evidently from a lover to his mistress, or a husband -to some young wife. Not only the terms of expression, but a distinct -reference to a former voyage, indicated the writer to have been a -seafarer. The spelling and handwriting were those of a man imperfectly -educated, but still the language itself was forcible. In the expressions -of endearment there was a kind of rough, wild love; but here and there -were dark unintelligible hints of some secret not of love,—some secret -that seemed of crime. “We ought to love each other,” was one of the -sentences I remember, “for how everyone else would execrate us if all -was known.” Again: “Don’t let anyone be in the same room with you at -night,—you talk in your sleep.” And again: “What’s done can’t be undone; -and I tell you there’s nothing against us unless the dead could come to -life.” Here there was underlined in a better handwriting (a female’s), -“They do!” At the end of the letter latest in date the same female hand -had written these words: “Lost at sea the 4th of June, the same day as——” - -I put down the letters, and began to muse over their contents. - -Fearing, however, that the train of thought into which I fell might -unsteady my nerves, I fully determined to keep my mind in a fit state to -cope with whatever of marvelous the advancing night might bring forth. -I roused myself; laid the letters on the table; stirred up the fire, -which was still bright and cheering; and opened my volume of Macaulay. -I read quietly enough till about half past eleven. I then threw myself -dressed upon the bed, and told my servant he might retire to his own -room, but must keep himself awake. I bade him leave open the door between -the two rooms. Thus alone, I kept two candles burning on the table by -my bed head. I placed my watch beside the weapons, and calmly resumed -my Macaulay. Opposite to me the fire burned clear; and on the hearth -rug, seemingly asleep, lay the dog. In about twenty minutes I felt an -exceedingly cold air pass by my cheek, like a sudden draught. I fancied -the door to my right, communicating with the landing place, must have -got open; but no,—it was closed. I then turned my glance to my left, and -saw the flame of the candles violently swayed as by a wind. At the same -moment the watch beside the revolver softly slid from the table,—softly, -softly; no visible hand,—it was gone. I sprang up, seizing the revolver -with the one hand, the dagger with the other; I was not willing that my -weapons should share the fate of the watch. Thus armed, I looked round -the floor,—no sign of the watch. Three slow, loud, distinct knocks were -now heard at the bed head: my servant called out, “Is that you, sir?” - -“No; be on your guard.” - -The dog now roused himself and sat on his haunches, his ears moving -quickly backward and forward. He kept his eyes fixed on me with a look -so strange that he concentered all my attention on himself. Slowly he -rose up, all his hair bristling, and stood perfectly rigid, and with the -same wild stare. I had no time, however, to examine the dog. Presently -my servant emerged from his room; and if ever I saw horror in the human -face, it was then. I should not have recognized him had we met in the -street, so altered was every lineament. He passed by me quickly, saying, -in a whisper that seemed scarcely to come from his lips, “Run, run! it -is after me!” He gained the door to the landing, pulled it open, and -rushed forth. I followed him into the landing involuntarily, calling him -to stop; but, without heeding me, he bounded down the stairs, clinging -to the balusters, and taking several steps at a time. I heard, where I -stood, the street door open,—heard it again clap to. I was left alone in -the haunted house. - -It was but for a moment that I remained undecided whether or not to -follow my servant; pride and curiosity alike forbade so dastardly a -flight. I reëntered my room, closing the door after me, and proceeded -cautiously into the interior chamber. I encountered nothing to justify my -servant’s terror. I again carefully examined the walls, to see if there -were any concealed door. I could find no trace of one,—not even a seam -in the dull-brown paper with which the room was hung. How, then, had the -THING, whatever it was, which had so scared him, obtained ingress except -through my own chamber? - -I returned to my room, shut and locked the door that opened upon the -interior one, and stood on the hearth, expectant and prepared. I now -perceived that the dog had slunk into an angle of the wall, and was -pressing himself close against it, as if literally striving to force his -way into it. I approached the animal and spoke to it; the poor brute -was evidently beside itself with terror. It showed all its teeth, the -slaver dropping from its jaws, and would certainly have bitten me if I -had touched it. It did not seem to recognize me. Whoever has seen at -the Zoological Gardens a rabbit, fascinated by a serpent, cowering in -a corner, may form some idea of the anguish which the dog exhibited. -Finding all efforts to soothe the animal in vain, and fearing that his -bite might be as venomous in that state as in the madness of hydrophobia, -I left him alone, placed my weapons on the table beside the fire, seated -myself, and recommenced my Macaulay. - -Perhaps, in order not to appear seeking credit for a courage, or rather a -coolness, which the reader may conceive I exaggerate, I may be pardoned -if I pause to indulge in one or two egotistical remarks. - -As I hold presence of mind, or what is called courage, to be precisely -proportioned to familiarity with the circumstances that lead to it, -so I should say that I had been long sufficiently familiar with all -experiments that appertain to the marvelous. I had witnessed many very -extraordinary phenomena in various parts of the world,—phenomena that -would be either totally disbelieved if I stated them, or ascribed to -supernatural agencies. Now, my theory is that the supernatural is the -impossible, and that what is called supernatural is only a something in -the laws of Nature of which we have been hitherto ignorant. Therefore, -if a ghost rise before me, I have not the right to say, “So, then, the -supernatural is possible;” but rather, “So, then, the apparition of a -ghost is, contrary to received opinion, within the laws of Nature,—that -is, not supernatural.” - -Now, in all that I had hitherto witnessed, and indeed in all the wonders -which the amateurs of mystery in our age record as facts, a material -living agency is always required. On the Continent you will find still -magicians who assert that they can raise spirits. Assume for the moment -that they assert truly, still the living material form of the magician is -present; and he is the material agency by which, from some constitutional -peculiarities, certain strange phenomena are represented to your natural -senses. - -Accept, again, as truthful, the tales of spirit manifestation in -America,—musical or other sounds; writings on paper, produced by no -discernible hand; articles of furniture moved without apparent human -agency; or the actual sight and touch of hands, to which no bodies -seem to belong,—still there must be found the MEDIUM, or living being, -with constitutional peculiarities capable of obtaining these signs. In -fine, in all such marvels, supposing even that there is no imposture, -there must be a human being like ourselves by whom, or through whom, -the effects presented to human beings are produced. It is so with the -now familiar phenomena of mesmerism or electro-biology; the mind of the -person operated on is affected through a material living agent. Nor, -supposing it true that a mesmerized patient can respond to the will or -passes of a mesmerizer a hundred miles distant, is the response less -occasioned by a material being; if may be through a material fluid—call -it Electric, call it Odic, call it what you will—which has the power -of traversing space and passing obstacles, that the material effect -is communicated from one to the other. Hence, all that I had hitherto -witnessed, or expected to witness, in this strange house, I believe to -be occasioned through some agency or medium as mortal as myself; and -this idea necessarily prevented the awe with which those who regard -as supernatural things that are not within the ordinary operations of -Nature, might have been impressed by the adventures of that memorable -night. - -As, then, it was my conjecture that all that was presented, or would be -presented to my senses, must originate in some human being gifted by -constitution with the power so to present them, and having some motive -so to do, I felt an interest in my theory which, in its way, was rather -philosophical than superstitious. And I can sincerely say that I was in -as tranquil a temper for observation as any practical experimentalist -could be in awaiting the effects of some rare, though perhaps perilous, -chemical combination. Of course, the more I kept my mind detached from -fancy, the more the temper fitted for observation would be obtained; and -I therefore riveted eye and thought on the strong daylight sense in the -page of my Macaulay. - -I now became aware that something interposed between the page and the -light,—the page was overshadowed. I looked up, and I saw what I shall -find it very difficult, perhaps impossible, to describe. - -It was a Darkness shaping itself forth from the air in very undefined -outline. I cannot say it was of a human form, and yet it had more -resemblance to a human form, or rather shadow, than to anything else. As -it stood, wholly apart and distinct from the air and the light around it, -its dimensions seemed gigantic, the summit nearly touching the ceiling. -While I gazed, a feeling of intense cold seized me. An iceberg before me -could not more have chilled me; nor could the cold of an iceberg have -been more purely physical. I feel convinced that it was not the cold -caused by fear. As I continued to gaze, I thought—but this I cannot say -with precision—that I distinguished two eyes looking down on me from the -height. One moment I fancied that I distinguished them clearly, the next -they seemed gone; but still two rays of a pale-blue light frequently shot -through the darkness, as from the height on which I half believed, half -doubted, that I had encountered the eyes. - -I strove to speak,—my voice utterly failed me; I could only think -to myself, “Is this fear? It is _not_ fear!” I strove to rise,—in -vain; I felt as if weighed down by an irresistible force. Indeed, -my impression was that of an immense and overwhelming Power opposed -to my volition,—that sense of utter inadequacy to cope with a force -beyond man’s, which one may feel _physically_ in a storm at sea, in a -conflagration, or when confronting some terrible wild beast, or rather, -perhaps, the shark of the ocean, I felt _morally_. Opposed to my will was -another will, as far superior to its strength as storm, fire, and shark -are superior in material force to the force of man. - -And now, as this impression grew on me,—now came, at last, horror, horror -to a degree that no words can convey. Still I retained pride, if not -courage; and in my own mind I said, “This is horror; but it is not fear; -unless I fear I cannot be harmed; my reason rejects this thing; it is -an illusion,—I do not fear.” With a violent effort I succeeded at last -in stretching out my hand toward the weapon on the table; as I did so, -on the arm and shoulder I received a strange shock, and my arm fell to -my side powerless. And now, to add to my horror, the light began slowly -to wane from the candles,—they were not, as it were, extinguished, but -their flame seemed very gradually withdrawn; it was the same with the -fire,—the light was extracted from the fuel; in a few minutes the room -was in utter darkness. The dread that came over me, to be thus in the -dark with that dark Thing, whose power was so intensely felt, brought a -reaction of nerve. In fact, terror had reached that climax, that either -my senses must have deserted me, or I must have burst through the spell. -I did burst through it. I found voice, though the voice was a shriek. I -remember that I broke forth with words like these, “I do not fear, my -soul does not fear”; and at the same time I found strength to rise. Still -in that profound gloom I rushed to one of the windows; tore aside the -curtain; flung open the shutters; my first thought was—LIGHT. And when I -saw the moon high, clear, and calm, I felt a joy that almost compensated -for the previous terror. There was the moon, there was also the light -from the gas lamps in the deserted slumberous street. I turned to look -back into the room; the moon penetrated its shadow very palely and -partially—but still there was light. The dark Thing, whatever it might -be, was gone,—except that I could yet see a dim shadow, which seemed the -shadow of that shade, against the opposite wall. - -My eye now rested on the table, and from under the table (which was -without cloth or cover,—an old mahogany round table) there rose a hand, -visible as far as the wrist. It was a hand, seemingly, as much of flesh -and blood as my own, but the hand of an aged person, lean, wrinkled, -small too,—a woman’s hand. That hand very softly closed on the two -letters that lay on the table; hand and letters both vanished. There then -came the same three loud, measured knocks I had heard at the bed head -before this extraordinary drama had commenced. - -As those sounds slowly ceased, I felt the whole room vibrate sensibly; -and at the far end there rose, as from the floor, sparks or globules -like bubbles of light, many colored,—green, yellow, fire-red, azure. Up -and down, to and fro, hither, thither as tiny Will-o’-the-Wisps, the -sparks moved, slow or swift, each at its own caprice. A chair (as in -the drawing-room below) was now advanced from the wall without apparent -agency, and placed at the opposite side of the table. Suddenly, as forth -from the chair, there grew a shape,—a woman’s shape. It was distinct as a -shape of life,—ghastly as a shape of death. The face was that of youth, -with a strange, mournful beauty; the throat and shoulders were bare, the -rest of the form in a loose robe of cloudy white. It began sleeking -its long, yellow hair, which fell over its shoulders; its eyes were -not turned toward me, but to the door; it seemed listening, watching, -waiting. The shadow of the shade in the background grew darker; and -again I thought I beheld the eyes gleaming out from the summit of the -shadow,—eyes fixed upon that shape. - -As if from the door, though it did not open, there grew out another -shape, equally distinct, equally ghastly,—a man’s shape, a young man’s. -It was in the dress of the last century, or rather in a likeness of -such dress (for both the male shape and the female, though defined, -were evidently unsubstantial, impalpable,—simulacra, phantasms); and -there was something incongruous, grotesque, yet fearful, in the contrast -between the elaborate finery, the courtly precision of that old-fashioned -garb, with its ruffles and lace and buckles, and the corpselike aspect -and ghostlike stillness of the flitting wearer. Just as the male shape -approached the female, the dark Shadow started from the wall, all three -for a moment wrapped in darkness. When the pale light returned, the two -phantoms were as if in the grasp of the Shadow that towered between them; -and there was blood stain on the breast of the female; and the phantom -male was leaning on its phantom sword, and blood seemed trickling fast -from the ruffles from the lace; and the darkness of the intermediate -Shadow swallowed them up,—they were gone. And again the bubbles of light -shot, and sailed, and undulated, growing thicker and thicker and more -wildly confused in their movements. - -The closet door to the right of the fireplace now opened, and from the -aperture there came the form of an aged woman. In her hand she held -letters,—the very letters over which I had seen _the_ Hand close; and -behind her I heard a footstep. She turned round as if to listen, and then -she opened the letters and seemed to read; and over her shoulder I saw a -livid face, the face as of a man long drowned,—bloated, bleached, seaweed -tangled in its dripping hair; and at her feet lay a form as of a corpse; -and beside the corpse there cowered a child, a miserable, squalid child, -with famine in its cheeks and fear in its eyes. And as I looked in the -old woman’s face, the wrinkles and lines vanished, and it became a face -of youth,—hard-eyed, stony, but still youth; and the Shadow darted forth, -and darkened over these phantoms as it had darkened over the last. - -Nothing now was left but the Shadow, and on that my eyes were intently -fixed, till again eyes grew out of the Shadow,—malignant, serpent eyes. -And the bubbles of light again rose and fell, and in their disordered, -irregular, turbulent maze, mingled with the wan moonlight. And now from -these globules themselves, as from the shell of an egg, monstrous things -burst out; the air grew filled with them: larvæ so bloodless and so -hideous that I can in no way describe them except to remind the reader of -the swarming life which the solar microscope brings before his eyes in -a drop of water,—things transparent, supple, agile, chasing each other, -devouring each other; forms like naught ever beheld by the naked eye. -As the shapes were without symmetry, so their movements were without -order. In their very vagrancies there was no sport; they came round -me and round, thicker and faster and swifter, swarming over my head, -crawling over my right arm, which was outstretched in involuntary command -against all evil beings. Sometimes I felt myself touched, but not by -them; invisible hands touched me. Once I felt the clutch as of cold, soft -fingers at my throat. I was still equally conscious that if I gave way to -fear I should be in bodily peril; and I concentered all my faculties in -the single focus of resisting stubborn will. And I turned my sight from -the Shadow; above all, from those strange serpent eyes,—eyes that had now -become distinctly visible. For there, though in naught else around me, I -was aware that there was a WILL, and a will of intense, creative, working -evil, which might crush down my own. - -The pale atmosphere in the room began now to redden as if in the air -of some near conflagration. The larvæ grew lurid as things that live -in fire. Again the room vibrated; again were heard the three measured -knocks; and again all things were swallowed up in the darkness of the -dark Shadow, as if out of that darkness all had come, into that darkness -all returned. - -As the gloom receded, the Shadow was wholly gone. Slowly, as it had been -withdrawn, the flame grew again into the candles on the table, again into -the fuel in the grate. The whole room came once more calmly, healthfully -into sight. - -The two doors were still closed, the door communicating with the -servant’s room still locked. In the corner of the wall, into which he had -so convulsively niched himself, lay the dog. I called to him—no movement; -I approached—the animal was dead; his eyes protruded; his tongue out of -his mouth; the froth gathered round his jaws. I took him in my arms; -I brought him to the fire. I felt acute grief for the loss of my poor -favorite—acute self-reproach; I accused myself of his death; I imagined -he had died of fright. But what was my surprise on finding that his neck -was actually broken. Had this been done in the dark? Must it not have -been by a hand human as mine; must there not have been a human agency all -the while in that room? Good cause to suspect it. I cannot tell. I cannot -do more than state the fact fairly; the reader may draw his own inference. - -Another surprising circumstance—my watch was restored to the table from -which it had been so mysteriously withdrawn; but it had stopped at the -very moment it was so withdrawn, nor, despite all the skill of the -watchmaker, has it ever gone since—that is, it will go in a strange, -erratic way for a few hours, and then come to a dead stop; it is -worthless. - -Nothing more chanced for the rest of the night. Nor, indeed, had I long -to wait before the dawn broke. Not till it was broad daylight did I quit -the haunted house. Before I did so, I revisited the little blind room -in which my servant and myself had been for a time imprisoned. I had a -strong impression—for which I could not account—that from that room had -originated the mechanism of the phenomena, if I may use the term, which -had been experienced in my chamber. And though I entered it now in the -clear day, with the sun peering through the filmy window, I still felt, -as I stood on its floors, the creep of the horror which I had first -there experienced the night before, and which had been so aggravated by -what had passed in my own chamber. I could not, indeed, bear to stay -more than half a minute within those walls. I descended the stairs, and -again I heard the footfall before me; and when I opened the street door, -I thought I could distinguish a very low laugh. I gained my own home, -expecting to find my runaway servant there; but he had not presented -himself, nor did I hear more of him for three days, when I received a -letter from him, dated from Liverpool to this effect: - -“Honored Sir:—I humbly entreat your pardon, though I can scarcely hope -that you will think that I deserve it, unless—which Heaven forbid!—you -saw what I did. I feel that it will be years before I can recover -myself; and as to being fit for service, it is out of the question. I -am therefore going to my brother-in-law at Melbourne. The ship sails -tomorrow. Perhaps the long voyage may set me up. I do nothing now but -start and tremble, and fancy IT is behind me. I humbly beg you, honored -sir, to order my clothes, and whatever wages are due me, to be sent to my -mother’s, at Walworth.—John knows her address.” - -The letter ended with additional apologies, somewhat incoherent and -explanatory details as to effects that had been under the writer’s charge. - -This flight may perhaps warrant a suspicion that the man wished to go -to Australia, and had been somehow or other fraudulently mixed up with -the events of the night. I say nothing in refutation of that conjecture; -rather, I suggest it as one that would seem to many persons the most -probable solution of improbable occurrences. My belief in my own theory -remained unshaken. I returned in the evening to the house, to bring away -in a hack cab the things I had left there, with my poor dog’s body. In -this task I was not disturbed, nor did any incident worth note befall -me, except that still, on ascending and descending the stairs, I heard -the same footfalls in advance. On leaving the house, I went to Mr. J⸺’s. -He was at home. I returned him the keys, told him that my curiosity was -sufficiently gratified, and was about to relate quickly what had passed, -when he stopped me, and said, though with much politeness, that he had no -longer any interest in a mystery which none had ever solved. - -I determined at least to tell him of the two letters I had read, as well -as of the extraordinary manner in which they had disappeared; and I then -inquired if he thought they had been addressed to the woman who had died -in the house, and if there were anything in her early history which could -possibly confirm the dark suspicions to which the letters gave rise. Mr. -J⸺ seemed startled, and, after musing a few moments, answered, “I am but -little acquainted with the woman’s earlier history, except as I before -told you, that her family were known to mine. But you revive some vague -reminiscences to her prejudice. I will make inquiries, and inform you of -their result. Still, even if we could admit the popular superstition that -a person who had been either the perpetrator or the victim of dark crimes -in life could revisit, as a restless spirit, the scene in which those -crimes had been committed, I should observe that the house was infested -by strange sights and sounds before the old woman died—you smile—what -would you say?” - -“I would say this, that I am convinced, if we could get to the bottom of -these mysteries, we should find a living human agency.” - -“What! you believe it is all an imposture? For what object?” - -“Not an imposture in the ordinary sense of the word. If suddenly I were -to sink into a deep sleep, from which you could not awake me, but in that -sleep could answer questions with an accuracy which I could not pretend -to when awake,—tell you what money you had in your pocket, nay, describe -your very thoughts,—it is not necessarily an imposture, any more than it -is necessarily supernatural. I should be, unconsciously to myself, under -a mesmeric influence, conveyed to me from a distance by a human being who -had acquired power over me my previous _rapport_.” - -“But if a mesmerizer could so affect another living being, can you -suppose that a mesmerizer could also affect inanimate objects: move -chairs,—open and shut doors? - -“Or impress our senses with the belief in such effects,—we never having -been _en rapport_ with the person acting on us? No. What is commonly -called mesmerism could not do this; but there may be a power akin to -mesmerism, and superior to it,—the power that in the old days was called -Magic. That such a power may extend to all inanimate objects of matter, I -do not say; but if so, it would not be against Nature,—it would be only a -rare power in Nature which might be given to constitutions with certain -peculiarities, and cultivated by practice to an extraordinary degree. -That such a power might extend over the dead,—that is, over certain -thoughts and memories that the dead may still retain,—and compel, not -that which ought properly to be called the SOUL, and which is far beyond -human reach, but rather a phantom of what has been most earth-stained -on earth, to make itself apparent to our senses, is a very ancient -though obsolete theory upon which I will hazard no opinion. But I do not -conceive the power would be supernatural. Let me illustrate what I mean -from an experiment which Paracelsus describes as not difficult, and which -the author of the ‘Curiosities of Literature’ cites as credible: A flower -perishes; you burn it. Whatever were the elements of that flower while it -lived are gone, dispersed, you know not whither; you can never discover -nor re-collect them. But you can, by chemistry, out of the burned dust of -that flower, raise a spectrum of the flower, just as it seemed in life. -It may be the same with the human being. The soul has as much escaped you -as the essence or elements of the flower. Still you may make a spectrum -of it. And this phantom, though in the popular superstition it is held to -be the soul of the departed, must not be confounded with the true soul; -it is but the eidolon of the dead form. Hence, like the best-attested -stories of ghosts or spirits, the thing that most strikes us is the -absence of what we hold to be soul,—that is, of superior emancipated -intelligence. These apparitions come for little or no object,—they seldom -speak when they do come; if they speak, they utter no ideas above those -of an ordinary person on earth. American spirit seers have published -volumes of communications, in prose and verse, which they assert to -be given in the names of the most illustrious dead: Shakespeare, -Bacon,—Heaven knows whom. Those communications, taking the best, are -certainly not a whit of higher order than would be communications from -living persons of fair talent and education; they are wondrously inferior -to what Bacon, Shakespeare, and Plato said and wrote when on earth. Nor, -what is more noticeable, do they ever contain an idea that was not on the -earth before. Wonderful, therefore, as such phenomena may be (granting -them to be truthful), I see much that philosophy may question, nothing -that it is incumbent on philosophy to deny,—namely, nothing supernatural. -They are but ideas conveyed somehow or other (we have not yet discovered -the means) from one mortal brain to another. Whether, in so doing, -tables walk of their own accord, or fiendlike shapes appear in a magic -circle, or bodiless hands rise and remove material objects, or a Thing -of Darkness, such as presented itself to me, freeze our blood,—still am -I persuaded that these are but agencies conveyed, as by electric wires, -to my own brain from the brain of another. In some constitutions there -is a natural chemistry, and those constitutions may produce chemic -wonders,—in others a natural fluid, call it electricity, and these may -produce electric wonders. But the wonders differ from Normal Science in -this,—they are alike objectless, purposeless, puerile, frivolous. They -lead on to no grand results; and therefore the world does not heed, -and true sages have not cultivated them. But sure I am, that of all I -saw or heard, a man, human as myself, was the remote originator; and -I believe unconsciously to himself as to the exact effects produced, -for this reason: no two persons, you say, have ever told you that they -experienced exactly the same thing. Well, observe, no two persons ever -experience exactly the same dream. If this were an ordinary imposture, -the machinery would be arranged for results that would but little vary; -if it were a supernatural agency permitted by the Almighty, it would -surely be for some definite end. These phenomena belong to neither class; -my persuasion is, that they originate in some brain now far distant; that -that brain had no distinct volition in anything that occurred; that what -does occur reflects but its devious, motley, ever-shifting, half-formed -thoughts; in short that it has been but the dreams of such a brain put -into action and invested with a semisubstance. That this brain is of -immense power, that it can set matter into movement, that it is malignant -and destructive, I believe; some material force must have killed my dog; -the same force might, for aught I know, have sufficed to kill myself, had -I been as subjugated by terror as the dog,—had my intellect or my spirit -given me no countervailing resistance in my will.” - -“It killed your dog,—that is fearful! Indeed it is strange that no animal -can be induced to stay in that house; not even a cat. Rats and mice are -never found in it.” - -“The instincts of the brute creation detect influences deadly to their -existence. Man’s reason has a sense less subtle, because it has a -resisting power more supreme. But enough; do you comprehend my theory?” - -“Yes, though imperfectly,—and I accept any crotchet (pardon the word), -however odd rather than embrace at once the notion of ghosts and -hobgoblins we imbibed in our nurseries. Still, to my unfortunate house, -the evil is the same. What on earth can I do with the house?” - -“I will tell you what I would do. I am convinced from my own internal -feelings that the small, unfurnished room at right angles to the door of -the bedroom which I occupied, forms a starting point or receptacle for -the influences which haunt the house; and I strongly advise you to have -the walls open, the floor removed,—nay, the whole room pulled down. I -observe that it is detached from the body of the house, built over the -small backyard, and could be removed without injury to the rest of the -building.” - -“And you think, if I did that——” - -“You would cut off the telegraph wires. Try it. I am so persuaded that I -am right, that I will pay half the expense if you will allow me to direct -the operations.” - -“Nay, I am well able to afford the cost; for the rest allow me to write -to you.” - -About ten days after I received a letter from Mr. J⸺, telling me that -he had visited the house since I had seen him; that he had found the -two letters I had described, replaced in the drawer from which I had -taken them; that he had read them with misgivings like my own; that he -had instituted a cautious inquiry about the woman to whom I rightly -conjectured they had been written. It seemed that thirty-six years ago -(a year before the date of the letters) she had married, against the wish -of her relations, an American of very suspicious character; in fact, -he was generally believed to have been a pirate. She herself was the -daughter of very respectable tradespeople, and had served in the capacity -of a nursery governess before her marriage. She had a brother, a widower, -who was considered wealthy, and who had one child of about six years old. -A month after the marriage the body of this brother was found in the -Thames, near London Bridge; there seemed some marks of violence about his -throat, but they were not deemed sufficient to warrant the inquest in any -other verdict than that of “found drowned.” - -The American and his wife took charge of the little boy, the deceased -brother having by his will left his sister the guardian of his only -child,—and in event of the child’s death the sister inherited. The child -died about six months afterwards,—it was supposed to have been neglected -and ill-treated. The neighbors deposed to have heard it shriek at night. -The surgeon who had examined it after death said that it was emaciated as -if from want of nourishment, and the body was covered with livid bruises. -It seemed that one winter night the child had sought to escape; crept out -into the back yard; tried to scale the wall; fallen back exhausted; and -been found at morning on the stones in a dying state. But though there -was some evidence of cruelty, there was none of murder; and the aunt and -her husband had sought to palliate cruelty by alleging the exceeding -stubbornness and perversity of the child, who was declared to be -half-witted. Be that as it may, at the orphan’s death the aunt inherited -her brother’s fortune. Before the first wedded year was out, the American -quitted England abruptly, and never returned to it. He obtained a -cruising vessel, which was lost in the Atlantic two years afterwards. The -widow was left in affluence, but reverses of various kinds had befallen -her: a bank broke; an investment failed; she went into a small business -and became insolvent; then she entered into service, sinking lower and -lower, from housekeeper down to maid-of-all-work,—never long retaining -a place, though nothing decided against her character was ever alleged. -She was considered sober, honest, and peculiarly quiet in her ways; still -nothing prospered with her. And so she had dropped into the workhouse, -from which Mr. J⸺ had taken her, to be placed in charge of the very house -which she had rented as mistress in the first year of her wedded life. - -Mr. J⸺ added that he had passed an hour alone in the unfurnished room -which I had urged him to destroy, and that his impressions of dread while -there were so great, though he had neither heard nor seen anything, that -he was eager to have the walls bared and the floors removed as I had -suggested. He had engaged persons for the work, and would commence any -day I would name. - -The day was accordingly fixed. I repaired to the haunted house,—we went -into the blind, dreary room, took up the skirting, and then the floors. -Under the rafters, covered with rubbish, was found a trapdoor, quite -large enough to admit a man. It was closely nailed down, with clamps and -rivets of iron. On removing these we descended into a room below, the -existence of which had never been suspected. In this room there had been -a window and a flue, but they had been bricked over, evidently for many -years. By the help of candles we examined this place; it still retained -some moldering furniture,—three chairs, an oak settle, a table,—all of -the fashion of about eighty years ago. There was a chest of drawers -against the wall, in which we found, half rotted away, old-fashioned -articles of a man’s dress, such as might have been worn eighty or a -hundred years ago by a gentleman of some rank; costly steel buckles and -buttons, like those yet worn in court dresses, a handsome court sword; in -a waistcoat which had once been rich with gold lace, but which was now -blackened and foul with damp, we found five guineas, a few silver coins, -and an ivory ticket, probably for some place of entertainment long since -passed away. But our main discovery was in a kind of iron safe fixed to -the wall, the lock of which it cost us much trouble to get picked. - -In this safe were three shelves and two small drawers. Ranged on the -shelves were several small bottles of crystal, hermetically stopped. They -contained colorless, volatile essences, of the nature of which I shall -only say that they were not poisons,—phosphor and ammonia entered into -some of them. There were also some very curious glass tubes, and a small -pointed rod of iron, with a large lump of rock crystal, and another of -amber,—also a loadstone of great power. - -In one of the drawers we found a miniature portrait set in gold, and -retaining the freshness of its colors most remarkably, considering the -length of time it had probably been there. The portrait was that of a -man who might be somewhat advanced in middle life, perhaps forty-seven -or forty-eight. It was a remarkable face,—a most impressive face. If -you could fancy some mighty serpent transformed into man, preserving in -the human lineaments the old serpent type, you would have a better idea -of that countenance than long descriptions can convey: the width and -flatness of frontal; the tapering elegance of contour disguising the -strength of the deadly jaw; the long, large terrible eyes, glittering and -green as the emerald,—and withal a certain ruthless calm, as if from the -consciousness of an immense power. - -Mechanically I turned round the miniature to examine the back of it, -and on the back was engraved a pentacle; in the middle of the pentacle -a ladder, and the third step of the ladder was formed by the date 1765. -Examining still more minutely, I detected a spring; this, on being -pressed, opened the back of the miniature as a lid. Withinside the lid -were engraved, “Marianna to thee. Be faithful in life and in death to ⸺.” -Here follows a name that I will not mention, but it was not unfamiliar to -me. I had heard it spoken of by old men in my childhood as the name borne -by a dazzling charlatan who had made a great sensation in London for a -year or so, and had fled the country on the charge of a double murder -within his own house,—that of his mistress and his rival. I said nothing -of this to Mr. J⸺, to whom reluctantly I resigned the miniature. - -We had found no difficulty in opening the first drawer within the iron -safe; we found great difficulty in opening the second: it was not locked, -but it resisted all efforts, till we inserted in the chinks the edge -of a chisel. When we had thus drawn it forth, we found a very singular -apparatus in the nicest order. Upon a small, thin book, or rather -tablet, was placed a saucer of crystal; this saucer was filled with a -clear liquid,—on that liquid floated a kind of compass, with a needle -shifting rapidly round; but instead of the usual points of a compass -were seven strange characters, not very unlike those used by astrologers -to denote the planets. A peculiar but not strong nor displeasing odor -came from this drawer, which was lined with a wood that we afterwards -discovered to be hazel. Whatever the cause of this odor, it produced -a material effect on the nerves. We all felt it, even the two workmen -who were in the room,—a creeping, tingling sensation from the tips of -the fingers to the roots of the hair. Impatient to examine the tablet, -I removed the saucer. As I did so the needle of the compass went round -and round with exceeding swiftness, and I felt a shock that ran through -my whole frame, so that I dropped the saucer on the floor. The liquid -was spilled; the saucer was broken; the compass rolled to the end of the -room, and at that instant the walls shook to and fro, as if a giant had -swayed and rocked them. - -The two workmen were so frightened that they ran up the ladder by -which we had descended from the trapdoor; but seeing that nothing more -happened, they were easily induced to return. - -Meanwhile I had opened the tablet; it was bound in plain red leather, -with a silver clasp; it contained but one sheet of thick vellum, and on -that sheet were inscribed, within a double pentacle, words in old monkish -Latin, which are literally to be translated thus: “On all that it can -reach within these walls, sentient or inanimate, living or dead, as moves -the needle, so works my will! Accursed be the house, and restless be the -dwellers therein.” - -We found no more. Mr. J⸺ burned the tablet and its anathema. He razed to -the foundations the part of the building containing the secret room with -the chamber over it. He had then the courage to inhabit the house himself -for a month, and a quieter, better-conditioned house could not be found -in all London. Subsequently he let it to advantage, and his tenant has -made no complaints. - - - - -WOMAN’S SPIRIT IS PHOTOGRAPHED - - -Before her death, Mrs. Mary McVickers of Los Angeles requested that a -photographer be commissioned to take photographs of her body as it lay -in the casket. Accordingly, after she died, C. H. Monroe, a licensed -photographer, entered the room where her body lay and prepared to obey -her dying wish. In making the pictures, he used a velour screen to -balance the light; and later he was amazed to find on this screen three -weird impressions that are declared to be “spirit photographs.” Monroe -declared the screen was the sort he always used and that he examined -it carefully before photographing the woman’s body and found nothing -unusual about it. Mrs. Mary Vlasek, pastor of the Spiritualist Temple, -and a number of her followers stated positively that they had seen Mrs. -McVicker’s spirit in the temple, some time after her death, and also at -the crematory. - - - - -_The Mystery of the Frightful Invisible Monster Is Solved in the Last -Chapters of_ - -The Whispering Thing - -_By_ LAURIE McCLINTOCK _and_ CULPEPER CHUNN - - - _The first half of “The Whispering Thing” was published in - the March issue of WEIRD TALES. A copy will be mailed by the - publishers for 25 cents._ - - A RESUME OF THE EARLY CHAPTERS: - - Stark terror and mysterious death follow in the wake of an - unseen demon, which lurks in the city streets and houses, - whispering in the ears of its victims before killing them. - Medical examination shows that they were, apparently, strangled - to death. One of the victims, before dying, declares the breath - of the Whispering Thing is icy cold. Nobody has seen it. Nobody - can imagine what it is. Then Jules Peret, French detective who - is in America, undertakes to fathom the terrible mystery. After - his preliminary investigation, he goes home, and when he enters - his darkened rooms he feels an ice-cold breath on his cheek, - and he knows he is in the presence of the Whispering Thing. - - THE PRESENT INSTALLMENT STARTS HERE - - -_CHAPTER VI. (Continued)_ - -THE WHISPERING THING - -With a stifled cry, Peret whirled round and made a frantic, though -futile, effort to open the door. In his slapdash haste he struck his head -against the jamb and dropped the key. - -Cursing fluently under his breath in four languages, he fell to his knees -and felt around on the carpet. Failing to find the key, he sprang to his -feet and began to fumble on the wall for the push-button. - -Before he could find it, however, the Thing again whispered its warning -of death in his ear and scorched his face with its icy breath. - -Almost mad with terror, Peret threw himself backward and crashed against -a chair with such violence that he was almost knocked senseless. For a -second he lay still, to gather his forces and to fill his bursting lungs -with air. His clothes were wet with perspiration, and his body cold and -numb. - -Expecting each instant to feel the vise-like grip of the Thing on his -throat, he staggered to his feet and made another frantic effort to find -the push-button. Remembering the flashlight in his pocket, he was about -to reach for it, when he felt the ice-cold breath of the Thing on his -face, and, in an effort to protect himself, he sprang against the wall. -What he had been trying for an eternity to accomplish by strategy was now -brought about by accident. His shoulder struck the push-button, and the -lights flashed on. - -Almost blinded by the sudden glare, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, -he took a step back and swept the room with an all-embracing gaze. - -Except for himself, the room _was unoccupied_! - -It was, in fact, exactly as he had left it earlier in the day. The -room bore not the slightest evidence of having been entered during his -absence, nor was there anything large enough to afford a human being a -place of concealment. - -As he stood stupidly surveying the room, the whisper of the invisible -menace once more sounded in his ear! - -With a cry of terror, Peret whipped out his automatic and, blindly -fanning the air in front of him, pulled the trigger until the magazine -was empty. A picture fell to the floor with a crash and bits of plaster -flew from the walls and ceiling. Scarcely waiting until the last shot was -fired, Peret snatched the key off the floor and slipped it in the keyhole. - -As he threw open the door, the Thing again whispered in his ear and -brushed his face with its clammy breath. With a yell, the Frenchman -precipitated himself into the hall with such vigor and rapidity of action -that he fell sprawling. Bounding to his feet, he grabbed the knob and -violently slammed the door. - -“Victory!” he shouted, and his joy was excessive. “Ah, monster! _cochon! -boyeux!_ Thing or devil! Whatever you are, I’ve got you now! _Oui!_” - -He shook his fist at the door and hurled at the imprisoned horror a -string of excited invective. - -“Your hour is come. Your shot is bolt! Assassin! Ghoul! _Voila!_ how you -frightened me—me, the Terrible Frog! _Dame!_ I am trembling a little yet, -I think.” - -A number of doors along the corridor opened, and men and women in night -attire stuck their heads out cautiously. - -“I say, old top, what’s coming off?” asked one of the startled -individuals, catching sight of Peret. - -“Nothing,” shouted Peret, and wiped the dew from his forehead. - -“You are drunk,” said another man, disgusted. “Go to bed. You are keeping -everybody awake.” - -“You’re a liar!” yelled Peret, and the other, fearing violence hastily -closed the door. - -Pinching his arm to assure himself that he was not the victim of a -nightmare, Peret tried the doorknob to see if the night-latch had, by any -ill chance, failed to spring. Having reassured himself on this point, he -turned and, taking the steps four at a time, dashed down the stairs. - -Scaring the now thoroughly-awake elevator boy nearly out of his senses -with his wild gestures and still wilder appearance, Peret careened -into a telephone booth, and, after being connected with the police -headquarters, barked into the receiver a few disjointed sentences that -froze the blood of Central, who had been listening in, and made Detective -Sergeant Strange, at the other end of the wire, drop the receiver and -bellow an order that brought everybody within hearing distance to their -feet. - -Whereupon Peret, having heard the order as plainly as if he had been in -Strange’s office, reeled out into the lobby and collapsed in a chair to -await the arrival of the homicide squad. - - -_CHAPTER VII._ - -PERET EXPLAINS - -At 9 a. m. on the following morning Jules Peret presented himself at the -front door of a small, unpretentious red-brick house on Fifteenth Street, -one block from the home of the murdered scientist. - -One would never have suspected from his manner or appearance that, eight -hours previously, he had battled with an invisible menace in the narrow -confines of a darkened room, and had felt stark terror grip his soul -before he emerged triumphant from the most harrowing experience of his -adventurous career. No one would ever have suspected that, because, to -all outward appearance, Peret was at peace with the world and had no -thought on his mind of greater weight than the aroma of the cigarette -between his lips. Debonair as ever, and attired with the scrupulous -neatness that was so characteristic of him, he made a picture that had -caused more than one young lady to pay him the honor of a lingering -glance when, a half-hour previously, he had issued from his apartment and -pursued his way down the well populated thoroughfare. - -In answer to the tinkle of the bell the door was opened three inches by -the butler, a small, wrinkled, leathery-faced old Chinaman, whose head -was as bald and shiny as a polished egg. In one hand he held a faded silk -skull cap, which he had evidently just removed from his head or forgotten -to put on. - -“Whatchee want, huh?” he demanded, with a regrettable lack of civility. - -“I want to see your master,” returned Peret courteously, extending his -card. “Please present my compliments to him, _Monsieur_, and tell him my -business is pressing.” - -“Mlaster no see nobody,” chattered Sing Tong Fat. “He sick. Allee samee -dlunk. No see noblody. Clome back nex’ week.” - -“But it is necessary that I should see your master this morning,” was -Peret’s polite but firm retort. “Your master will be glad enough to see -me when you show him my card.” He displayed his badge of special officer -and added, “Get a wiggle on!” - -“_Yak pozee!_” shrilled Sing Tong Fat indignantly, and opened the door. -“You clazy. Allee samee tong man. Master have you alested.” He contorted -his face until it resembled a hyena’s, and broke into a shrill laugh. -“_Tchee, tchee._ (yes, yes.) Alee samee tam fool clazy man.” - -“You are an amiable old scamp, _Monsieur_,” laughed Peret. “But we are -losing time, and time is of importance. Where does your master hang out, -eh? I will present my own card.” - -“I tellee him you see him flirst,” chattered the Chinaman. “You wait -here. He sleepee. Me wakee him up. He sick. Allee samee dlunk. You wait -leddle time. _Tchon-dzee-ti Fan-Fu_ (it is the will of the master).” - -A door on the right side of the hall opened and a man stepped out into -the hall. In spite of his disheveled hair and the brilliantly-colored -dressing robe that covered his heavy frame, there was no mistaking the -handsome features of Albert Deweese. - -“’S all right, Sing,” he said, when he saw who his visitor was. “I -decided to get up for a while.” Then to Peret: “Good-morning, Mr. Peret. -I guess you think I am an inhospitable cuss, what? Fact is, I have been -trying to sleep.” - -“No, I do not think you are inhospitable, _Monsieur_,” replied Peret, -as he shook hands. “After your experience last night, you need time to -recuperate. The wonder of it is that you are able to be up at all.” - -“I agree with you there!” responded Deweese with feeling. “I told Sing -last night when I retired to admit no one this morning until I rang, -which accounts for his discourtesy in keeping you waiting. I felt the -need of a round twelve hours’ sleep to recover from the effects of my -adventure, but I haven’t been able to close my eyes. I feel as if I shall -_never_ be able to close them.” - -Deweese indeed showed the effects of his near-tragic battle with the -Whispering Thing. His face was grayish-white and the heavy black -circles under his bloodshot eyes accentuated his pallor and gave him an -appearance that was almost ghastly. Had he been stretched out on a bed -and his eyes closed, one could easily have mistaken him for a corpse. - -Dismissing the garrulous and indignant old Chinaman, he crossed the hall -and ushered Peret into a large, well-lighted room that was fitted out as -a studio. The walls were hung with canvases of an indifferent quality in -various stages of completion, and on an easel near a large double window -reposed the half-completed picture of a semi-nude, which immediately -caught and held the detective’s gaze. - -After a moment’s critical inspection of the painting, Peret remarked: -“You seem to be a busy man, my friend. But I don’t suppose you find much -interest in your paintings this morning, eh? In fact, you look on the -verge of a collapse. Have you seen your physician yet?” - -“That’s the first thing I did after leaving Berjet’s house last night,” -the artist replied. “He found nothing serious the matter with me, -however. Shock more than anything else, I suppose. But to what do I -owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Peret? Have you had any success in -running down the Thing?” - -“Yes and no,” answered Peret, and then went on to explain: “We are hot on -the trail, but haven’t yet succeeded in entirely clearing up the mystery. -It was in the hope that you would be able to help me a little that I -called upon you this morning. I thought you might like to see the affair -through to the end.” - -“Good!” cried the artist, his feverish eyes glittering with eagerness. -“After I had gotten some sleep, I intended hunting you up, anyway. You -are right when you say I want to see the thing through to the finish. You -can count on me to help you in any way that lies in my power. God knows, -there is no one more eager than myself to get to the bottom of this -affair! With the Whispering Thing still at large—” - -He shuddered involuntarily, laughed, and added, “It is difficult for you -to understand my feelings, I guess.” - -“Perhaps it’s not as difficult as you imagine, my friend,” said Peret -quietly, subsiding into a chair. He selected a cigarette from the case -the artist proffered, and continued: “But let us get down to business. -First, I will recount a few facts disclosed by my investigations and then -explain how you can help me. In the meantime, let us be comfortable. You -are as pale as a ghost. Be seated, my dear fellow, I beg of you,” he -added with solicitude. - -“Oh, I am not as bad off as I may appear,” declared Deweese confidently, -dropping into a chair nevertheless. “I will be all right after a few -hours’ rest. Now, let me have your story. Naturally, I am consumed with -curiosity to hear what you have discovered.” - -“Ah, you are a delightful companion, _Monsieur_,” was Peret’s genial -response. “Me—I am a great talker, but a poor listener. I will tell you -what I know with pleasure. But let me first congratulate you upon the -excellence of these Persian cigarettes. _Sacre!_ But you have a delicate -taste, _Monsieur_.” - -The artist bowed his acknowledgment to the compliment, but impatiently. -It was evident that he was eager to hear what the Frenchman had on his -mind, and Peret, remarking this, did not keep him longer in suspense. - -“I will not take up your time by recounting all that has transpired since -I saw you last night, _Monsieur_,” began Peret, “and for the sake of -convenience I will tell my story in a round-about sort of way. Let me -begin with my first attempt to motivate Berjet’s murder. - -“M. Berjet was, as you are doubtless aware, a scientist of international -repute. In scientific circles, in fact, he was a towering figure. I have -the honor of having had a casual acquaintanceship with him for several -years, and as I knelt beside his dead body on the sidewalk last night I -recalled to mind many of the achievements that had brought him moderate -wealth and fame. Among other things, I remembered having recently seen a -newspaper account of a new invention of his—a poison gas of unparalleled -destructive powers, the formula of which several warring nations have -been trying to purchase. - -“As clues were sadly lacking, and our investigation in his house failed -to reveal any satisfactory explanation for Berjet’s death, I at once -assumed that the motive for the murder had been the theft of the formula. -I knew that at least one of the nations that have been trying to acquire -the formula would go to almost any length to gain possession of a new and -really effective weapon of this kind. I therefore got in touch with the -Secret Service, which usually has an intimate knowledge of such matters, -and learned several facts that made me more certain than ever that I was -on the right track. - -“Berjet’s poison gas, I learned, is indeed a terrible destructive agent. -It is said to be even more deadly than Lewisite. A minute portion of a -drop, if placed on the ground, will kill every living thing, vegetable -and animal, within a radius of half a mile. Think, then, what a ton would -do! - -“Berjet called his invention ‘Q-gas.’ The formula was first offered to -our government for a moderate sum, and rejected, and at the time of his -death the savant was negotiating for its sale to the French government.” - -“Surely, you are not going to try to make me believe that this Q-gas -played a direct part in the death of Berjet and Sprague and the attack on -me,” interrupted Deweese. “Believe me, Mr. Peret—” - -“I do believe you, my friend,” was Peret’s smiling response. “The gas -itself played no part in the tragedy last night, but the formula is at -the bottom of all of the trouble, as has been suggested. The murders were -simply incidental to the robbery of the formula.” - -“Have you discovered who the robber was?” queried Deweese, with natural -curiosity. - -“Yes,” replied Peret calmly. “Even without clues to work with, this -would not have been very difficult. Of the several nations that have -been trying to get possession of the Q-gas formula there are only one -or two that would authorize their agents to go to such extremes as were -employed last night to acquire it, and as virtually all of their agents -are known to the Secret Service, our search would have been confined to -a limited group of men and women. It would simply have been a matter of -elimination.” - -Deweese nodded his understanding, and the sleuth continued: - -“Almost from the very first, however, for reasons which I will explain -later, I was led to suspect a man who has since turned out to be a -notorious international agent, known in diplomatic circles as Count -Vincent di Dalfonzo. During his absence, I made a somewhat hurried search -of his rooms after my departure from the scientist’s house, but could -find nothing to incriminate him. - -“One of my operatives, however, a former Secret Service agent, was able -to identify him, if nothing more. According to this operative, Dalfonzo, -who is one of the greatest scoundrels unhung, at the present time bears -the secret credentials of a nation I will leave unnamed, but one which, -I have reason to know, has made several unsuccessful attempts to buy the -Q-gas formula from Berjet.” - -Deweese was leaning forward in his chair, an eager listener. As Peret -paused to relight his cigarette, he remarked: - -“If Dalfonzo is such a notorious character, one would have thought that -the Secret Service would have kept him under its eye.” - -“One would have thought so, indeed,” agreed Peret, expelling a cloud of -smoke from his lungs. “When last heard of several months ago, Dalfonzo -was in Petrograd and he probably entered this country in disguise and has -since kept himself well under cover.” - -“Have you arrested him?” - -“I have scarcely had time yet, _Monsieur_,” answered Peret. “I feel safe -in saying, however, that he will be in the custody of the police within -the next twenty-four hours.” - -“Good! I will never feel safe while this scoundrel is at large, if indeed -he really did have a hand in the murders of Berjet, Sprague and Adolphe, -and the attack on me.” - -“Dalfonzo had nothing to do with Adolphe’s murder, and only an indirect -hand in the attack on you,” said Peret. “_Sacre bleu!_ Dalfonzo is not -the kind of man that strikes down his victims with butcher knives and -such; he is a man of delicate ideas and sensibilities, _Monsieur_.” - -“So it seems,” said Deweese drily. “I know that the finger prints on the -dagger tend to prove that Adolphe was murdered by his employer, but in -the light of the other facts can this evidence be considered conclusive? -The prints on the dagger may simply be a trick to confuse the police. The -Whispering Thing—But stay! For the moment I had forgotten the Whispering -Thing. It seems to me that we are getting away from the main issue.” - -“Patience, _Monsieur_,” said Peret, with an enigmatical smile. -“Everything will be explained in good time. But first, let me assure you -that the finger prints on the dagger are genuine. Adolphe was undoubtedly -murdered by the scientist, and as the penalty for this crime he gave his -own life.” - -Deweese started. The Frenchman’s indirect method of telling his story, -and the complacence with which he stated apparently contradictory facts, -confused and annoyed him. - -“You mean—?” he began. - -“I mean that Berjet was murdered because he stabbed his valet.” - -“Well,” averred Deweese, unable to conceal his impatience, “all of -this is about as clear as mud to me. First you say that the motive for -Berjet’s murder was the robbery of the formula, and now you declare that -he was done away with because he killed his valet. What am I to believe?” - -“What you will, _Monsieur_,” replied Peret. “Everything I have stated is -true, although I confess that as yet I have nothing to prove it. If the -facts seem contradictory, it is because I have expressed myself badly. - -“According to my theory, Count Dalfonzo (for a consideration of course), -induced Adolphe to steal the formula of Q-gas from his benefactor. When -poor Berjet learned that he had been betrayed he stabbed the betrayer -in a fit of insane rage and hid the body in the closet in his library -until he would have time to dispose of it. Dalfonzo in some way learned -of this, or suspected it, and as he already had the formula in his -possession, decided that his safest plan would be to murder Berjet before -he could communicate with French Secret Service agents operating in this -country, who were about to consummate the purchase of the secret. _Eh, -bien!_ the murder was committed, and but for one little slip, one tiny -slip—_Ha; ha!_ It is amusing, is it not, _Monsieur_?” - -“Very!” rejoined Deweese sarcastically. “I think, however, that I have -begun to get a glimmer of what you erroneously conceive to be the truth, -and that is that Dalfonzo and the mysterious Thing are identical.” - -“Patience, _Monsieur_, patience,” cried Peret. “The glimmer of light that -you see is a will-o’-the wisp. Dalfonzo is a man; the Thing is—the Thing. -The murders were _instigated_ by Dalfonzo, but were _committed_ by the -invisible terror.” - -Deweese, as had many a man before him, began to wonder if he had to deal -with an imbecile or a man by no means as feeble-minded as he seemed. In -his puzzlement he stared at Peret for a moment, with mouth agape, then -he leaned forward in his chair until less than two feet separated his -corpselike face from Peret’s. - -“And what the devil _is_ the Whispering Thing?” he asked sharply. - -“All in good time,” came the amiable reply. “Let us first consider the -little slip that upset Dalfonzo’s apple cart.” - -“Well, let us consider the little slip then,” said Deweese, relaxing in -his chair. “Where did our diplomatic freelance slip?” - -“Why, when he tried to murder me in the same way that he did that poor -Berjet,” quietly responded Peret. - -The artist half rose from his chair and stared at the detective with -astonishment written on his face. - -“Do you mean to say that _you_ have been attacked by the Whispering -Thing?” he demanded. - -“Just that, _Monsieur_. I was attacked by the whispering phantom in my -rooms last night after I left the scene of the attack on you. You can -realize, therefore, that I can appreciate all that you have gone through. -It is true that my experience was, in some respects, not as terrible as -your own, because I escaped the Thing before it could do me bodily harm. -But I never expect entirely to recover from the fright it gave me. _Mon -dieu_, what a monster this Dalfonzo is!” - -“It was at his instigation that the Thing attacked you?” questioned -Deweese. - -“Who else?” asked Peret. - -“Well,” cried Deweese, impatiently, “why do you beat around the bush -so much? Be definite. What the devil is the Whispering Thing? And who, -exactly, is the man you call Dalfonzo?” - -Peret lifted his eyes and gazed steadily at the artist. - -“I will answer your second question first, _Monsieur_,” he replied, with -exasperating slowness. “My answer will explain why I have been beating -around the bush, as you call it.” - -He leaned slightly forward, his right hand in his coat pocket, his eyes -smiling, the muscles around his mouth tense. - -“Count Vincent di Dalfonzo,” he said, “is the man who at the present time -calls himself Albert Deweese—_Don’t move, Monsieur!_ The revolver in my -coat pocket is centered on your heart!” - - -_CHAPTER VIII._ - -THE MYSTERY IS SOLVED. - -If Peret expected to catch Deweese off his guard, he was sadly -disappointed. The artist met his gaze squarely, and without any apparent -emotion. - -Flicking the ashes from his cold cigarette, he applied a lighted match to -it and tossed the charred splinter upon the floor. The corpselike look -of his face became a little accentuated, perhaps, and there was a slight -narrowing of the eyes that had not been apparent before; but, except for -that, there was no change in his manner or appearance. - -For a moment neither of the men spoke. Their eyes clashed and held. The -stillness became tense, electric, as they contemplated each other through -the haze of smoke that curled from the ends of their cigarettes. Finally: - -“You are quite mad, I think,” remarked Deweese, unmoved. “Where the deuce -did you ever get the idea that I was Dalfonzo?” - -Peret was unable to conceal his admiration. - -“You are a great actor, _Monsieur_, and a brave man,” he declared in a -tone that left no doubt of his sincerity. “I told part of my story to -test you—a sort of indirect third degree—but so far not a muscle of your -face has moved. What a pity it is you are such a damned scoundrel!” - -Deweese laughed shortly. - -“It is always safe to insult a man when you have him covered,” he -observed composedly. “Nevertheless, pray continue. You interest me -exceedingly, and cause me no annoyance. Your wild theories brand you a -fool and an ass, and, strangely enough, it always gives me pleasure to -hear an ass bray. Proceed, my dear chap.” - -“There are many others whose opinion of me is similar to your own,” said -Peret blandly; “but the fool is he who holds his enemy in contempt.” - -Deweese’s eyes flashed. - -“Well, dear enemy, what makes you think that I am the chap you call -Dalfonzo?” he questioned, smiling with his lips. - -“You will not admit your identity, then?” countered the detective. - -“Certainly I will admit my identity,” said Deweese, with a laugh. “I -am Albert Deweese, very much at your service. What reason have you for -believing me to be the man you call Dalfonzo—a man who, if one is to -believe you, seems to be in league with an invisible demon that commits -murders for him? The very fact that I almost met my death at the hands of -the Whispering Thing is proof that I am not the man you seek. If I had -anything to do with the Thing, does it seem reasonable to suppose that I -would turn it loose on myself?” - -“The attack on you was an accident, _Monsieur_—a bit of retributive -justice, perhaps. Were it not for the fact that you still suffer from -the effects of it, I would say that you only got part of what was coming -to you. Not a full dose of your own medicine, _Monsieur_—just a taste of -it. Ah, you are clever, my friend, clever as the fiends in hell; but, it -appears, not clever enough, _Diable, Monsieur_, you should have better -trained that terrible monster before you turned it loose, eh?” - -“You seem to like to talk in riddles,” snapped Deweese. “What is the -Whispering Thing, anyway? If you know, I shall be obliged if you will -tell me.” - -“Very well, my friend,” acquiesced Peret. “I will do so with -pleasure. The invisible monster, the terrible, whispering, breathing, -fear-inspiring demon is—” - -“_Well?_” demanded Deweese tersely. - -“One little bat,” concluded Peret—“or rather, two little bats.” - -Absurd as the detective’s statement may have sounded, its effect on the -artist was, nevertheless, pronounced. His gaze wavered and his face, if -such a thing were possible, became a shade paler. His recovery, however, -was almost immediate. - -“I do not know what it was that attacked you last night,” he sneered. “It -may have been and probably was a bat. It is possible that an insect could -strike terror in the heart of a delicate little flower like you. But if -you think a bat attacked _me_—” with one of his chilling laughs—“I can -only say that I think you are a poor damned fool.” - -“There are times that I think the same thing,” replied Peret, seriously; -“but this is not one of them. I not only think that the Thing was a -bat—I _know_ it. And to prove to you how futile it is for you to pretend -ignorance of the Thing, and of your own identity, let me reenact in words -the tragedy that ended in the death of two good and innocent men.” - -“Do so,” gritted Deweese, his cold blue eyes glittering. “But if you -think you can convince me that the Thing that attacked me was a bat—” - -“As I have already stated,” said Peret, fixing his gaze on the unwavering -eyes of the artist, “the murder of M. Berjet was conceived after you -learned that Adolphe had been killed. You deemed it necessary to your own -safety. Having completed your diabolical plans, therefore, you lost no -time in calling at the scientist’s home. Upon reaching your destination, -you entered the house by way of the front door, which you found unlocked. -The door of the library or sitting-room, on the other hand, was secured. - -“You therefore placed a chair in front of the door to stand on and opened -the transom over the door. After tying a handkerchief over your mouth and -nostrils, you raised the cover of a little box you had brought with you -and released a bat in the room. Then you closed the transom and departed -from the house as silently as you had entered it. - -“The bat proved to be a faithful ally, _Monsieur_. On little rubber pads -that you had glued on the upper side of its wings was a preparation -used by the Dyaks to poison the tips of their arrows and spears. -The preparation, which you used in powdered form, with a few added -ingredients of your own, as employed by the Dyaks, consists of a paste -made from the milky sap of the upas tree, dissolved in a juice extracted -from the tuba root. With one possible exception, it is the most deadly -poison known, a minute quantity, breathed in through the nostrils or -absorbed into the system through an abrasion on the skin, causing almost -instant death. - -“When you released the bat in the library, it began to circle around the -room and its fluttering wings scattered the powder and poisoned the air -to such an extent that poor Berjet had only time, before he died, to -realize the significance of the bat’s presence in the room and to leap -through the window in a vain effort to save himself. - -“You, in the meantime, had walked slowly down the street, and when the -scientist catapulted himself through the window-sash, you were calmly -lighting a cigarette under the corner lamp post half a block away. The -complication was one you doubtless had not anticipated; you had thought -that Berjet would die an instant death when he got a whiff of the powder. - -“Nevertheless, you had nothing to fear, you thought; you had laid your -plans too carefully. Like any innocent pedestrian would be expected to -do, therefore, you ran back down the street, determined to be in at the -finish, to see your work well done. - -“All this time the bat—whose mouth and nostrils, by the way, you had -protected with a tiny gauze mask from which the creature could eventually -free itself—was no doubt flying around and around, trying to find egress -from the room. It was while you were standing on the pavement in front of -the house, talking with Sprague and Greenleigh, that the bat discovered -the broken window-sash and escaped into the open air. - -“As it winged its way aimlessly over the sidewalk, it flew close enough -to Sprague to scatter some of the powder in his face, and an instant -later, continuing its flight, it passed in front of you. - -“Dr. Sprague inhaled a fatal amount of the powder, but you breathed in -only enough to throw you into a kind of convulsion. The struggles of -both you and the physician to get your breath and otherwise to overcome -the seizure made it appear that you were grappling with an invisible -antagonist. Sprague succumbed almost instantly; but you, after a brief -struggle, recovered, and in order to throw me off the track, as you -believed, cleverly conceived the ‘invisible monster.’ - -“Nor did you have to draw much upon your imagination for the ‘whispering -sound’ and the ‘icy breathing’ of the unholy creature of your mind. -The _whir_ of the bat’s wings as it flew past you made a sound not -unlike that of a sibilant whisper, while the whiffs of air that the -animal’s wings fanned against your cheek, suggested the ‘cold and clammy -breathing’ of the mythical monster. - -“_Ma foi!_ well do I know whereof I speak, _Monsieur_, for I heard the -‘whisper’ and felt the ‘breath’ of the Thing myself. The bat that was -loosed in my room last night gave me the fright of my life. When its -wings brushed against the wall it sounded like a whisper of the devil -himself, and when its wings fanned the air against my face, I thought a -corpse was breathing death into my soul. No coward am I, _monsieur_, but -the ‘whispering’ and ‘breathing’ were so terribly real—which only goes -to show what suggestion will do to a vivid imagination. You had talked -so earnestly and so picturesquely about the ‘whisper’ and the ‘breath’ -of the Thing, that when I first heard the _whir_ of the little animal’s -wings in the inky-dark room—_Dame!_ It makes me shiver yet! - -“Fortunately, however, the bat had been in my room long enough before I -entered it to shake all the deadly powder from its wings. The powder had -settled and the air was pure before I crossed the threshold of that room, -else I would have died a quick and horrible death. - -“The same thing is true of the bat that sprinkled death in the face -of Berjet. When you and I, in company with the police, entered the -scientist’s house, the bat had been gone for several minutes, and the -stray particles of pulverized death had settled. You realized this, of -course, or you would not have entered the room. If Strange and I had -entered the house five minutes earlier, you would have let us enter it -alone.” - -Peret took a lavender handkerchief from the breast pocket of his coat and -wiped from his brow some beads of perspiration. A slight moisture was -also noticeable on the forehead of the artist, but it was due to another -cause. Although he must have known that each word of the detective’s -was a strand in the rope that was being woven around his neck, he gave -no signs of emotion. Inwardly, the strain had begun to tell on him, but -outwardly he was calm, confident, almost indifferent. - -Restoring the handkerchief to his pocket, Peret resumed: “I confess that -at first the case baffled me. Through a mistake of my own, soon to be -explained, I got started on the wrong track. Your story of the Whispering -Thing did not impress me, although I did not at first suspect you of -deliberately trying to deceive me. I laid the Thing to your imagination -and wrought-up condition. My skepticism vanished, however, when I reached -my rooms, as I have explained. - -“At first I scarcely knew what to believe. The asphyxiation theory of -Sprague and, later on, of Coroner Rane set my mind in motion, but led me -nowhere, because it did not fit in with my interpretation of Berjet’s -last words. As a matter of fact, nothing else seemed to fit in with -anything. Clues ran counter to each other and the facts themselves -clashed. - -“I got my first inspiration when you declared that the breathing of the -Thing was cold and clammy, for this made it seem likely that poison fumes -had been fanned in your face by some mechanical device. Had it not been -for the horrible experience in my room, this is the theory upon which I -should have based my investigation.” - -“Then you captured the bat?” said Deweese, in a tense voice. - -“_Oui, Monsieur_,” nodded Peret. “I tried to shoot the tiny thing, -without even knowing what it was; but I ask you in all seriousness, my -friend, could one hope to hit with a thirty-two bullet a _chauve-souris_ -that one could not see? Not I! So I telephoned for the police and they -came and conquered it with a tear bomb! - -“The bat, _Monsieur_, was then turned over to the city chemists, and they -analyzed the traces of powder found adhering to the little pads on its -wings. Their report gave me the name of the poison that opened the gates -of eternity for Berjet and Sprague.” - -Peret twisted the needle-points of his slender black mustache and beamed -upon his host. - -“But why accuse me?” asked Deweese, smiling. “I have no bats in my -menagerie—nothing, in fact, but a flea-bitten bulldog.” - -Peret’s face became sober. - -“You stand accused not by me,” he said solemnly, “but by Berjet, the -first of your victims.” - -“What’s that?” asked Deweese sharply. For the first time, he seemed -alarmed. He sat up suddenly in his chair, and as suddenly relaxed, but -the hunted look that crept into his eyes continued to show how sharply -the blow had struck home. - -“You start, eh? Good! My reasoning is sound. Yes, my friend; Berjet is -your accuser. Just before he died, he uttered two words. The first word -was ‘assassins;’ and the other was a word that I at first believed to be -‘_dix_,’ the French word for ‘ten,’ which is pronounced _dees_. I thought -Berjet meant he had been attacked by ten assassins, incredible as it -seemed. That is what got me all balled up, as the saying goes. - -“But after I heard your name, and let it roll around in my mind for -awhile, I realized my mistake. The dying man did not say _Dix_. He -pronounced your name, or rather, your present _alias_, ‘Deweese.’ - -“When realization of this burst upon me, I was so gratified that I -decided to lay a little trap for you. I became very excited, you may -recall, shouted that I knew what the Whispering Thing was, that the -mystery was solved! I wanted you to show your hand, my friend. But I was -not looking for you to act through a confederate, and as a result I very -obligingly walked into the little trap which you, in turn, laid for me. - -“Who was it that put the _chauve-souris_ in my room, eh? Was it Sing Tong -Fat? It could not have been you, for you have been under surveillance -every minute of the time since you left the murdered scientist’s house -last night. I think you gave Sing Tong Fat instructions to destroy me -over the telephone, for the police report you as having called your house -from Greenleigh’s drug store after your departure from Berjet’s. Ah, -that devil of a Chinaman! I was watching him through the kitchen window -for a little while this morning polishing silver, and he was singing to -himself! _Pardieu!_ he has an easy conscience for a would-be murderer, -_monsieur_!” - -“You have a very fertile imagination,” remarked Deweese, when Peret -paused to blow the ashes from his cigarette. “But your fairy tale amuses -me, so pray continue. In view of the fact that I was near the scene of -the crime when Berjet was murdered, it is not difficult to perceive how -you might confuse my name with the scientist’s last utterance. But how -you ever came to identify me with Dalfonzo is past my comprehension.” - -“That is very easily explained,” was Peret’s affable reply. “After -leaving the scene of the crime last night, I had your house placed under -surveillance of the operative I have already mentioned. While he was -waiting for me to join him, so we could search the house, he saw Sing -Tong Fat through one of the windows and recognized him as your familiar. - -“There are very few foreign agents unknown to the Secret Service, and my -operative has the record of you and Sing Tong Fat at his finger-tips. He -knows that you and the Chinaman have been associated for years, and that -at the present time you are working in the interests of Soviet Russia. -Sing Tong Fat is not the idiot he appears to be; he is an international -agent that several countries would give a good deal to lay their hands on. - -“When my operative saw Sing Tong Fat in your house, he did not have to -tax his mind much to deduce the name of the ‘master’ he is serving. -Before I joined the operative, some one called Sing Tong Fat on the -’phone and he left the house almost immediately afterward. As the time -of the call coincides with the hour you are reported as having ’phoned -from Greenleigh’s drug store, I have no doubt that the message was from -you. As the operative had instructions to wait for me, he did not shadow -Sing Tong Fat when he left the house, which is a pity, for he probably -would have caught the old scoundrel in the act of putting the bat in my -room. After I arrived on the scene, we amused ourselves by searching your -house—this house—thoroughly.” - -“So it was you prowling around here last night, was it?” said Deweese -savagely. “I wish I had known it; you should not have gotten away so -easily.” - -“Then I am glad you did not know,” laughed Peret. “Your bulldog and your -bullet made it lively enough as it was.” - -“I hope that you found your search worth while,” sneered Deweese. - -“No,” replied Peret regretfully; “my search gave you a clean bill -of health. We did not find the formula or anything else that would -incriminate you. Nevertheless, _Monsieur_, your little game has been -played—played and lost. - -“And you played the game badly, too, my friend. For a man of your -intelligence, your blunders are inexcusable. Why did you not leave that -blood-thirsty old Chinaman in Russia, _Monsieur_? You can never hope to -remain incognito as long as you have Sing Tong Fat in tow. His hatchet -face is too well known. Your other blunders were all just as glaring -as this one. Why did you linger near the scene of your crime, eh? And -introduced yourself to the human bloodhounds that were searching out your -scent! Ah, _Monsieur_, I admire your self confidence, but you have an -over abundance of it.” - -“Perhaps,” said Deweese, with an ironic smile. “At any rate, it doesn’t -desert me now. For I know that you cannot convict me. You haven’t a shred -of real evidence against me, and the chain of circumstantial evidence you -have woven around me would be laughed to scorn in a jury room.” - -“You are right,” assented Peret, almost apologetically. “So far I have -only been able to reconstruct the crime in my mind by piecing together -inconsequential nothings that do not constitute legal evidence. Surmises, -deductions, and a stray fact or two—I possess nothing more, my friend. -But for the present they must suffice. Before I am through, however, I -promise to tie you up in a knot of incontestable evidence.” - -“That you will never be able to do,” declared Deweese, “for I am innocent -of the murders of Berjet and Sprague. I deny any knowledge of the crimes, -in fact, except what I saw in your presence last night. However, ever -since you have been here, I have noticed your hand toying with the -revolver in your pocket, so I presume that I am under arrest, what?” - -“What the devil do I want to arrest you for?” asked Peret, with feigned -astonishment. “You yourself have said that I have no real evidence -against you.” - -The lids of Deweese’s eyes narrowed and the lines around his mouth grew -hard. The pupils of his eyes, contracted to half their usual size, looked -like points of cold fire. - -“If you are not here to arrest me, what’s your game?” he demanded. - -“Oh, I just wanted to see what effect my theories would have on you,” -replied Peret calmly, as he rose to his feet. “I am a close student of -psychology, and I find much in you that interests me. Thanks for your -hospitality, _Monsieur_,” he continued, opening the door. “Perhaps I -shall have an opportunity to return the courtesy some day, as I have no -doubt we shall meet again.” - -“Rest assured of that,” rejoined Deweese, with a sinister smile. “We -shall certainly meet again.” - -“It is written,” returned Peret. - -He looked at Deweese for a moment, and then, with a bow, withdrew from -the room. - - -_CHAPTER IX._ - -THE WORM TURNS - -When the door had closed behind the detective, Deweese walked across the -room and put his ear to the keyhole. - -He heard the shrill chatter of Sing Tong Fat as he let Peret out of the -house, and the slam of the front door when he closed it behind him. -Heaving a sigh of relief, Deweese threw himself into a chair. The strain -through which he had just come had been terrific. Ordinarily, he would -have found a battle of wits with the detective much to his liking, for it -was for just such games as this that he lived. But his experience with -the Whispering Thing had left his nerves in such a state that he felt he -had been no match for the Frenchman. - -Nevertheless, now that he was at least temporarily unembarrassed by the -detective’s presence, his brain began to function more normally and -he set about evolving plans to extricate himself from his hazardous -position. What a devil the Frenchman was! The man’s powers of deduction -smacked of the supernatural. And yet— - -He knitted his brow. Recalling to his mind his own blundering, it was not -so difficult, after all, to perceive how the detective had arrived at -his conclusions. He, Deweese, had laid his plans so carefully, that he -had believed detection impossible. But now, viewing the working out of -his plan in retrospection, he could see where he had erred, and cursed -himself for his carelessness. His blunders, as Peret had implied, had -been too obvious to escape notice. Should not the remarkable accuracy -of Peret’s reasoning, therefore, be attributed to chance rather than to -genius? The accursed dying speech of the scientist had given him the key -to the mystery, and it was certainly only an ill chance that had led -him to be on hand to hear it. With such a clue to work on, he reasoned, -the solving of the case had simply been a matter of routine. Without -this clue, the detective would have been lost. The fact that he himself -had been attacked by the Whispering Thing would have shielded him from -suspicion. - -As he thought of his chance encounter with the bat, he shuddered. The -accident in itself proved his carelessness. It had indeed almost proved -his death. As Peret had said, he had been a fool to linger near the scene -of his crime, but he had been so sure, so confident, that he had done his -work too well to fear detection. As for Peret—well, his very frankness -proved that he was something of a fool. Who but an idiot would have -exposed his hand when he knew that his opponent held the strongest cards! - -Of course, there was a possibility that the Frenchman was holding -something back, but what if he was? Was he, Count Vincent di Dalfonzo, -“mystery man” of a hundred _aliases_ and acknowledged by the police to be -the cleverest international crook outside of prison bars, to be deprived -of his liberty and a fortune by an imbecile of a private detective? - -He laughed, and his laugh did not sound pleasant. After all, he had the -formula, and the game was not yet lost. His blunders had not been as bad -as they might have been. He would have been arrested at once, he argued, -had Peret believed that there was even the slightest chance of convicting -him. It only remained for him to make one imperative move, and then sit -tight. The Frenchman was bluffing, or perhaps he was laying another of -his diabolical traps. Well, he should see! - -After fortifying himself with a stiff drink of whisky from the flask -in the table drawer, he tapped the hand-bell on the table, and Sing -Tong Fat, as if he had been awaiting the summons, entered the room with -noiseless tread. - -“Did you let that blankety-blank Frenchman out?” demanded Deweese. - -“_Tchèe, tchée_,” chattered Sing Tong Fat. “He gone. Me watchee him glo -dlown stleet. He allee samee tam fool clazy man. He say he blowee topee -head off. _Hoi, hoi._” He drew one of the silken sleeves of his blouse -across his face and looked at his master anxiously. “He say polis alle -lound house in stleet, _Fan-Fu_. He talkee allee samee Victrolee—” - -“The house is still under surveillance, is it?” observed Deweese, -wrinkling his brow. “Well, so much the better. We work best when we work -cautiously, and we are not likely to be incautious when we know we are -watched.” - -He lighted a fresh cigarette and gazed reflectively at the thread of -smoke that curled upward from the lighted end. The drink of whisky had -cleared his brain, and, alert, feverishly bright-eyed, every nerve -in tune, he was now the man who for years had matched wits with the -continental police and eluded them at every turn. Sing Tong Fat, well -aware of the seriousness of the situation, shuffled his feet uneasily and -waited, with an anxious look on his face, for his “master” to speak. - -“Sing Tong Fat,” said Deweese, finally, “you and I have been friends -and coworkers for many years. We have associated in many dangerous -enterprises and I have always been liberal when it came to a division of -the spoils. As we have shared the pleasures of our adventures, so too -have we shared their dangers. I feel it only fair to tell you, therefore, -that our peril has never been so great as it is now. Unless we act -quickly we are doomed. You follow me, do you not?” - -Sing Tong Fat touched his forehead and gravely nodded. - -“It seems as if Fate has been against us from the very beginning in the -Q-gas business,” resumed Deweese in an unemotional tone. “The murder of -Berjet, while necessary, was unfortunate, and since then we have had one -stroke of bad luck after the other. We erred in trying to kill the French -detective in the manner we did. He should have been knifed, swiftly, -surely, silently. The bat that I instructed you to put in his room failed -to accomplish his death and gave him a clue which, if we are not careful, -may prove to be our undoing. Most important of all, both of us have been -recognized. So you can realize how serious the situation is.” - -“I await thy command, O Illustrious Master,” said the Chinaman gravely, -in his native tongue. - -Deweese, as if he took this for granted, nodded and proceeded: - -“Of the two of us you have the most cunning, and you therefore stand the -better chance of eluding the police. This is not flattery; it is wisdom -I have acquired through the years of my association with you. You are as -elusive as a phantom when at large, and, when in the toils, as slippery -as an eel. Execution of the plan I have formed, therefore, I am going to -entrust to you. It is very doubtful if I could slip through the cordon of -police around the house but I think that you may be able to do so, and it -is very necessary that one of us should. Here, then, is what I want you -to do: - -“The soviet agent, No. 29, is waiting in New York for the Q-gas -formula. He is stopping at the Alpin Hotel. The formula is locked in a -safe-deposit box in the Exporter’s Bank in this city. The box was rented -by me under the name of John G. McGlynn. I want you to take the first -train to New York and get No. 29 to return to Washington with you. It is -too risky for you to try to telegraph him. - -“I will give you a paper authorizing him to open the box and remove the -formula. The formula is to be replaced with fifty thousand dollars in -gold, the second and final installment of the price No. 29 agreed to pay -for the secret. - -“After the exchange, which must take place in your presence, you are to -rejoin me here and we will settle our score with Peret, and then take -steps to extricate ourselves from the net he has woven around us. The -most important thing now is the formula. Once we have gotten rid of that, -we can doubtless make our get-away. We have done so many times in the -past under circumstances almost as trying as the present ones, and we can -doubtless do so again. - -“What do you think of the plan, Sing? It is filled with danger, but—if -you can think of a better one, I should be glad to hear it.” - -“I agree with you as to the danger,” rejoined the Chinaman in a strange -voice, and then, very suddenly, he pressed the muzzle of an automatic -against Deweese’s temple. - -With his free hand he then swept the wax wrinkles from his face and -grinned. Deweese, in spite of the proximity of the automatic, recoiled. -The man was not Sing Tong Fat. He was _Jules Peret_! - -“Move at your peril, _Monsieur_,” warned the detective. Then, raising his -voice, “Hello, major!” he shouted. - -The door swung open, and Major Dobson, accompanied by Detective Sergeant -Strange and Harvey Bendlow, entered the room. Behind them came O’Shane -and Frank, dragging between them Sing Tong Fat, the latter bound and -gagged and minus his skull cap and outer clothing which, needless to say, -now adorned the head and body of the mirthful French detective. - -“Did you hear the conversation, Major?” cried Peret gleefully. - -“Every word of it,” declared Dobson, much gratified at the success of -Peret’s stratagem. “Sergeant Strange and I were watching through a crack -in the door and heard and saw all. The stenographer in the hall has it -all down. The jig is up, Mr. _Alias_ Deweese,” he added, turning to -the international agent. “Your goose is cooked, and the mystery of the -‘invisible monster’ is a thing of the past.” - -“You devil!” shouted Deweese hoarsely, glaring at the Frenchman; “you -have trapped me!” - -“So I have,” agreed Peret, wiping the yellow stain from his face with -a handkerchief. “But did I not promise you that I would do so? Ah, -_Monsieur_, if you but knew what it cost me to keep my promise! Did I not -have to sacrifice my hair and beautiful mustache this morning? Still, the -wig and false mustache I wore before I donned Sing Tong Fat’s regalia -looked very natural, did they not? They must have, since they deceived -you, my friend. But you should see my head without a covering! it looks -like the egg of the ostrich.” - -He pressed Sing Tong Fat’s skull-cap down more firmly on his head and -laughed heartily. - -“_Ma foi_,” he continued, as he removed from his face the little pads -of wax that had given his eyes an almond slant, “I almost feel tempted -to make my present impersonation permanent. Sing is such a handsome and -charming man—which doubtless explains why he fought so hard to retain -his identity. When he was seized by my good friends in the vestibule, -as he opened the door to let me out awhile ago, he was an astonished -and infuriated man. He fought, hissed and scratched like the cat of the -alley. And how he glared at them when they divested him of his clothing -and helped me to make up my face to look like his own. Look at him -glaring at me now! - -“My colleagues say I am a mimic and make-up artist of the first order, -and when I think how beautifully I deceived you, _M. le Comte di -Dalfonzo_, I am almost persuaded that they are right.” - - THE END. - - - - -_Strange, Indeed, Are the Possibilities of the Human Mind. A Weird -Example Is Found in_ - -THE DEATH CELL - -_By_ F. K. MOSS - - -[Illustration] - -“Man is by nature an experimenter,” argued my friend, Dr. Armand, a -psychologist of some repute, “and he is steadily delving into the Unknown -and bringing to light knowledge that is often appalling in its intricacy -of concept. - -“He gathers about him a few relatively simple pieces of apparatus and -discovers the existence of particles infinitely smaller than the most -minute object visible under the ultra-microscope. He measures its size, -mass, electrical charge, and in truth finds out more about it than he -knows of visible objects. All of this he learns about matter that he can -never even hope to see with his naked eye. The simple but marvelous -instrument, the spectroscope, tells him of the composition of the -stars. It told him that upon the sun there is an element unknown upon -this earth; he called it helium, and later discovered and isolated the -gas after first finding it on a body millions of miles away. Beautiful -indeed, is modern science!” - -Armand paused for a moment as if more fully to comprehend the scope of -the subject, and then continued: - -“But the most refined and sensitive piece of apparatus, if I may call it -that, and about which so little is understood, is the human brain. A vast -amount of research has been done along the lines of psychology by many -able men and the data has been formulated into several well established -hypotheses, and yet”—he stretched out his arms in a vague sort of -gesture—“how little we really know about the brain!” - -We had met, as had been our custom, at Armand’s apartment to enjoy -an afternoon together and to discuss old times and friends. I must -confess, with all due respect to the Doctor, that the subject was often -soon changed into a scientific lecture by him on his favorite theme, -psychology. I really enjoyed these informal talks immensely, for there is -no more entertaining speaker than the scholarly Armand. - -I nodded. “Yes, I suppose so, but it seems a natural consequence—the -brain. How can the brain be studied and mathematically analyzed -like—well, mechanics, for example?” - -“Perhaps that is not such an impossibility as it would seem,” said -Armand. “In the past the whole proposition has been studied conceiving of -the brain as a matter quite as abstract as the ‘soul.’ The more recent -school of investigation has attacked the problem, bearing in mind that, -after all, the functioning of the brain might be governed by the same -laws of physics that can be universally applied elsewhere. - -“The application of the electron theory is not absurd in the least. -However, all research must be based upon the axiom, ‘If an occurrence can -be made to take place under certain conditions, then the repetition of -those conditions should invariably produce the same occurrence.’ As yet -this fact has not been established firmly in the case of the brain. - -“I have,” he continued, “just finished obtaining the data on the most -absorbing case I have ever had the opportunity to study. The data was -available only in fragments obtained from various sources, and in many -places I have been forced to bridge the gaps by drawing purely from my -conception, or imagination, of what took place.” - -I was deeply interested in Dr. Armand’s work, particularly in a case -which he deemed so extraordinary, and I urged him to relate the thing in -some detail. - -“The first part of the amazing affair is of common knowledge and varies -little from many other cases on record. However, the weirdest and most -intensely absorbing episode began after the rest of the world conceded -the whole unfortunate affair closed forever. Perhaps it would have been -closed had the principal actor been but slightly different in mentality, -or even in a different mood at the crucial hour. Potentially, there -might be many possibilities of such an occurrence, but the probability -of the combination of the required circumstances at the critical hour, -is infinitesimal. Even the exact repetition of the conditions might not -necessarily produce the same results.” - -Dr. Armand then related the story as he conceived it, prefacing his -remarks with the statement: - -“If the reactions of what we term the abnormal mind could only be -chronicled, we would stand aghast at what would be written.” - - -DR. ARMAND’S STRANGE NARRATIVE - -The friendship of James McKay and William Larson was a source of wonder -and pleasure to their mutual friends and acquaintances. Such was the -close companionship of the two men that they were often laughingly -referred to as “David and Jonathan.” - -Each regarded the other with pride, respect, and understanding. Possibly -there could not have been found a more glorious example of the love of -one man for another than this one. Certainly few, if any, would have been -so mentally constituted as to produce reactions which would lead to such -terrible results. - -McKay had met Larson some six years previous through his newspaper work, -both being on the staff of a Denver newspaper. Strangely, in view of -their later friendship, neither was particularly attracted to the other -until some time later. - -On this occasion McKay had been asked to “sit in” a card game at Larson’s -apartment, which he willingly did, for games of chance were attractive to -McKay. The party lasted nearly the entire night, and upon breaking up, -Larson offered to share his room with McKay, as the latter lived at some -distance. - -What drew the two men together is impossible to say, but their friendship -must have ripened quickly, for the next evening found McKay established -permanently as a roommate of Larson. - -In appearance, if their expressions were analyzed, the two men were -strikingly alike; enough so to be readily taken for brothers. Both were -of a slender athletic build, dark complexioned, and with sharp, clean-cut -features—sportsmen, in every sense of the word. - -In character, however, there was much difference. McKay, the younger, was -an impulsive, quick-acting and confident sort of fellow, easily offended, -but correspondingly quick to accept an apology. While clever in many -respects, he was not given to concentrated and painstaking study. - -This trait was evident from his writing—original, snappy, entertaining, -but often lacking in fine details of accuracy. Larson, on the other hand, -was of a more conservative type, slower but more positive in his actions, -and of a nature that inquired into things in a thorough and precise -fashion. - -Such was the well-known friendship of the two that great was the surprise -of all who knew McKay when, his face black with anger, he entered the -barroom of the Palace Hotel and demanded: - -“Where’s that damned Larson?” - -Friends at once tried to ascertain the trouble, and also to urge him to -return to his home, as he had evidently been drinking heavily. But McKay -was in no mood to be pacified by his friends. - -“Don’t interfere in my affairs!” he snarled. - -Then he ordered a drink, swallowed it at a gulp, and then seated himself -in a far corner of the room. - -McFadden, a close friend of both Larson and McKay, went over to him and, -linking his arm in McKay’s in a hearty and jovial manner, attempted -to take him away. McKay turned on him so savagely that he gave it up, -resolving to find Larson and learn the reason for McKay’s anger. - -As McKay only sat and watched and waited, his eyes blazed with a deadly -gleam. - - * * * * * - -McKay had become, as Larson expressed it, hypnotized by and infatuated -with a really beautiful but altogether shallow and irresponsible sort of -woman. The affair had caused Larson a great deal of annoyance, as McKay -would, at times, become extraordinarily cheerful and then sink into -spells of despondency so sullen and irritable that even the quiet-natured -Larson found it impossible to live with him. - -These moods, as Larson well knew, were occasioned by Miss Conway’s -treatment of Jim. Her influence over McKay seemed as unlimited as it was -magical. Larson had tried to reason with Jim, and had tried to convince -him that Miss Conway did not care seriously for him or any one else -except herself. But all his efforts produced no other effect than to -kindle new passion in McKay. - -On the evening mentioned, McKay had asked permission to call at her home, -but was refused, she pleading a previous engagement. For some unknown -reason (the guiding hand of fate, for those who believe in fate), he -walked out to her home, and as he drew near he saw Larson—his old pal, -Bill Larson—enter the home of Miss Conway! - -For a moment he stood as if stunned. Of all persons, Bill was the last he -would have suspected. - -Then it all became plain to him—Bill had tried to alienate the girl’s -love! - -Slowly, listlessly, McKay turned and retraced his steps to his room. -He sat there a long while in the dark and let his mind become polluted -with the poison of an insane jealousy, while he saturated his system and -dulled his conscience with whisky. - -About eleven he rose, placed a gun in his pocket, and started for the -hotel where he and Larson often met in the evening. As he walked, his -mind became closed to reason, closed to his regard for his friend, closed -to everything except that Larson had double-crossed him. As he sat and -waited in the barroom his brain focused itself on this one point until it -had taken possession of him. - -He had been there about a half hour when Larson appeared, laughing -and chatting with some friends. Bill was in great spirits, for he had -accomplished, that night, the thing he had long sought. Miss Conway had -been very reasonable and had promised that she would cause McKay no more -anxiety. - -McFadden and a few others hastened at once toward him to tell him about -McKay. But they were too late, for Larson, espying McKay, sang out: - -“Hello, Jim, old scout! Come over and ‘hist’ one with us!” - -McKay jumped up and strode over to the bar, his eyes glittering and his -mouth twitching with hatred. - -“You damn——!” and he leveled an accusing finger at Larson. - -“Jim!” cried Larson, “what’s wrong?” Larson was greatly shocked and -distressed over the condition of his friend, and he overlooked, if he -heard, the insult hurled at him. - -“So that was what you wanted?” McKay snarled. - -“My God, Jim, what is it?” - -“You may have beaten me, but you will never, never get her!” And a stream -of fire leapt from McKay’s gun and Larson dropped to the floor, uttering -but one word—“Jim!” - -The weapon dropped from McKay’s limp hand, and his face was ashen as he -gazed, speechlessly, at the bleeding and lifeless body of his best friend -on earth. - -He slowly turned away, and later surrendered himself to the authorities. - -The tragic affair caused a great deal of comment. Some three weeks -after the murder the case was brought to trial and attracted widespread -interest. The dingy West Side courtroom was crowded to capacity. Friends, -acquaintances, business men, curiosity seekers, fought for seats. - -Considerable difficulty was encountered in the selection of a jury. The -popularity of the murdered man, as well as the defendant, made it hard to -find an unbiased yet capable juryman. - -After that, however, the trial was brief, the end coming with almost -startling suddenness. The state’s case was plain and simple: The evidence -was overwhelmingly against McKay, and the situation was not improved by -his refusal to offer any defense. - -His attorney put up the plea of temporary insanity. His arguments held -weight. The plea was eloquent and logical, and probably would have been a -deciding factor had not McKay himself, at the conclusion of the address, -risen—and, to the dumbfounded court and attorney, refused to accept -insanity as a defense. - -The jury was out fifty minutes and returned a verdict of “guilty in the -first degree,” and recommended the death penalty. All eyes were turned -toward McKay, who remained perfectly emotionless. - -The judge then pronounced the death sentence on James McKay. - - * * * * * - -The friends of McKay were surprised at the severity of the penalty. -Especially dejected over the outcome were McFadden, a brother newspaper -man; Kirk, an oil operator, and Barnard, a young Medic, for these three, -with McKay and Larson, had formed what they termed the “gang.” Now one of -the five was dead and another was sentenced to be hung. - -They at once demanded a new trial, but it was refused. Scarcely could the -men refrain from emotion when McKay asked them and his attorney to settle -up his worldly affairs. As he was without a family, he willed all his -property to his three friends, and even mentioned in some detail a few -personal effects he wanted each to have. - -Of all present, McKay was the least affected by the scene. His voice and -movements were those of an automaton rather than that of a human being. -Indeed, he was practically such and had been so since the death of Larson. - -After attending to the last detail of his worldly affairs he rose and -silently shook the hands of his friends. Accompanied by two plain -clothesmen, handcuffed wrist to wrist, he left them and started on his -last trip to Canon City. He had often visited that little Colorado city, -and had spent many a pleasant time there. He requested the officers to -drive down Seventeenth Street. - -At one end was the golden dome of the State Capitol, brilliantly aglow -from the crimson rays of the setting sun; at the other was the station, -dark against the purple, snow-capped Rockies. - -As he neared the station he looked long and sadly at the huge arch -erected at the entrance. The word _Mizpath_ was blazoned across the arch. - - * * * * * - -The utmost consideration was shown McKay by the prison authorities, who -were well acquainted with the young reporter. The Warden met him at the -office and personally took him to the death cell. - -The door clamped shut and the bolts shot in place with metallic -harshness, and the law began to exact its penalty as it had done in the -Dark Ages—caging him in with stone and steel. - -Five days passed, long grinding days and longer nights, for sleep no -longer supplied periods of relaxation. His friends were agreeably -surprised when they visited him a few days later to find him in an -apparently cheerful frame of mind. He talked of Larson in the freest sort -of manner. He delighted in dwelling upon the characteristics of his late -friend. More and more, as the days passed by, did he like to discuss -Larson. He would relate incident after incident in the life of the latter -which, due to the closeness of their friendship, he knew quite as well as -his own. - -As to his impending execution, he seemed surprisingly unconcerned. Calmly -and without bitterness, McKay waited for justice to take its course. - - * * * * * - -Barnard and McFadden were silently playing pinochle, while Kirk stared -moodily out the window at the cold and drizzling rain. - -The spirits of the men were at low ebb and they had met that Wednesday -evening only through force of habit. Efforts to liven up the evening had -been made, but with no enthusiasm, and it promised to be as dull as the -weather outside. - -“Why not!” suddenly muttered Kirk, half to himself and half aloud. - -Barnard and McFadden turned around and eyed their companion curiously. -Kirk went over to his desk and started searching for something. - -Reseating himself, he read and re-read the newspaper clipping he had -taken from the desk. The expression on his face was so strange that the -pinochle game was abandoned and his friends attempted to learn the cause -of his unusual behavior. - -“What is the matter with you?” demanded McFadden, somewhat impatiently. - -“Read that!” and Kirk forced the clipping into McFadden’s hand. - -The latter glanced at it briefly, then gave it his undivided attention -and then passed it over to Barnard, who was exceedingly impatient to read -it after noting its effect upon McFadden. - -Barnard’s expression instantly changed from one of curiosity to one of -great seriousness. Kirk looked at McFadden in an effort to appraise the -effect of the article, and read an excitement equal to his own. Together -they turned to Barnard, who read aloud: - - “CHICAGO, MARCH 8: The startling disclosure was made today by - Chicago detectives that associates of ‘Red’ Murphy, gunman, who - was hanged this morning, had all but succeeded in restoring - Murphy to life! The request was made and granted for the body - immediately after being taken from the scaffold. The body was - placed in an ambulance and whirled away. Inside the ambulance, - hot blankets, pulmotor and restoratives were applied until - Murphy began to breathe again. The desperate attempt was - futile, however, as Murphy died a few minutes after being - revived.” - -For at least fifteen minutes after Barnard finished not a word was -spoken. Finally Kirk turned to Barnard. - -“You are a doctor. What about it?” - -Barnard deliberated. “Yes, it might be done if the neck was not broken by -the drop. If such was the case, death would be produced by strangulation.” - -Gone was the boredom of the evening, and in its place was created a -plan that was to write additional chapters beyond the “Finis” placed on -the case of James McKay by the state. Throughout the entire night they -discussed the plan—accepting and rejecting it time and time again. - -There were many phases to be considered. The probability that McKay would -be hanged without having his neck broken finally became the crux of the -argument. Kirk suggested a plan. McFadden, as a newspaper man, would have -access to the death chamber; the rope could be shortened and the knot -fixing it to the scaffold could be arranged so that it would slip a bit, -thereby easing the shock of the drop. - -McFadden immediately protested, and refused to consider such a move. It -would be torture for McKay. Barnard said: - -“I could give McKay a ‘shot’ that would dull any pain produced.” - -“Jim would not stand for a hypo.” - -“He would not notice it, in the excitement and confusion of being bound.” - -Throughout the discussion of the proposed plan, the possibility of legal -consequences for themselves was not considered. They were playing for -the life of a friend and the ethics of the methods were of secondary -importance. - -By morning they had formulated and agreed upon a definite plan -of procedure, and before separating they spent a few moments in -anticipating the joy of the reunion, if they were successful. Although -McKay had taken the life of an equally close friend, so well did they -understand the conditions that they extended their sympathy rather than -censure. - -Day by day the details of the plan were carried out. Each was assigned -a definite part of the work to be done. McFadden spent all the time -he dared spend at the penitentiary. He familiarized himself with the -equipment of capital punishment. He studied the tying of knots; he -experimented and found the best possible way to adjust a rope so that the -shock of the drop would be taken up as smoothly as possible. - -Nor could a more zealous medical student be found than Barnard. He sought -out every possible reference on the subject, prepared emergency equipment -to the last detail. - -The day before the execution, McFadden and Barnard left for Canon City, -Kirk remaining in Denver. That night Kirk got out McKay’s suitcase and -started packing it. - - * * * * * - -McKay was the center of the solemn little group that, with precise -movement, passed down the steel corridors. They entered the death -chamber, and it was McKay who sought to cheer his friends. - -He stepped upon the trap, and the officials bound his wrists to his -thighs with wide leather straps. He laughed and joked with his friends, -who could not force a laugh from their dry set lips. Then, while the -hangman stood waiting with the black hood, the chaplain offered up a few -words in prayer. - -McFadden stepped up and bade his friend farewell. Barnard then came up -and in a strained manner clapped McKay on the shoulder and said, “So -long, old scout,” and then stepped down, quickly concealing a small -hypodermic syringe in his pocket. - -Barnard and McFadden left the room and waited just outside, where they -exchanged significant glances. Each knew the other had not failed in -his task. A few seconds later they heard the trap drop, and for eleven -excruciating minutes—an eternity—they waited. - -The prison physician pronounced McKay dead and they returned. The body -was cut down quickly, then turned over to Barnard and placed in a waiting -ambulance, and whirled away. - -Once again the experiment was being tried. - -The long chance won. After a desperate effort Barnard’s work was -rewarded by a slight and uncertain breathing by McKay. - -McFadden noticed this, and scarcely could refrain from shouting with joy. -Barnard, however, quickly assured him that the results as yet were far -from certain. - -The body reached the mortuary and, by well-laid plans and judicious -selection of undertakers, was placed on a bed rather than the marble slab -of the embalmer. Barnard watched his “patient” with close attention, -while McFadden hastened to telegraph Kirk, who was waiting in Denver. - -The three friends were gathered about McKay when the latter regained -consciousness after hours of quiet and restful sleep. McKay opened his -eyes—shut them—then, with eyes wide open, hand on his forehead, he gazed -in a glassy manner about the room. His whole body quivered for a few -seconds, then relaxed, and then he spoke in a hoarse and mechanical tone. - -“What—” His eyes wandered about and his words became inarticulate. -Finally: - -“What—what has happened?” - -“Steady, old man,” said Barnard. “Everything is O. K. You came out fine.” - -Again McKay stared. “Came out? Came out of what?” - -“Don’t you realize—” - -Barnard interrupted Kirk, and with a look warned McFadden to remain quiet. - -“Never mind, old boy. Rest up a bit, and then we’ll explain.” - -McKay was not satisfied. He asked: “Where is Jim—Jim McKay?” - -“_What!_” - -The three friends riveted their eyes on McKay, and slowly, first with -Barnard, an expression of horror spread over their faces as they -understood what had happened. The shock of being launched into eternity, -only to be snatched back by his friends, had, as the law demanded, -blotted out the life of McKay—_and they had brought back William Larson!_ - - * * * * * - -Armand finished, and I turned over in my mind many questions that wanted -answering. - -“Is there any explanation of the transition of the personality, or soul -of McKay, to that of Larson?” - -“Yes,” said Armand. “The brain is composed of two hemispheres, one -of which receives impressions and is the seat of thinking. The other -hemisphere remains thoughtless. Undoubtedly, after the normal section -became somewhat paralyzed by the melancholia of those terrible nights -alone in the death cell the thoughtless section must have received -impressions. You will remember that, following his melancholia, McKay -desired above all to talk of Larson, and in dwelling on this the usually -inactive hemisphere probably received its impressions.” - -“Do you believe that he will always remain as Larson?” I asked. - -“It is my belief that he will. He says that he is Larson, and he acts the -life of Larson. Impossible as it may sound, I believe that exactly six -years from the day of his execution, McKay, as Larson, will die—a victim -of auto-suggestion and the vividness of his imagination.” - - - - -_Ghastly Retribution Befell the Victim of_ - -THE DEVIL PLANT - -_By_ LYLE WILSON HOLDEN - - -It was the last straw! Injury upon injury I had borne without a murmur, -but now I determined to revenge myself upon Silvela Castelar, let the -cost be what it would. His malevolent influence had pursued me since -early boyhood, and it was he who caused every fond hope of my life to -turn to ashes before its realization. - -Long ago, when we were boys in school together, his evil work began. -We were both of Spanish blood, and both, having lost our parents in -childhood, were being educated by our respective guardians at one of the -famous boys’ schools of England. - -Nothing was more natural in the circumstances, than that we should become -chums and room-mates. However, it was not long before I began to be -sorry that I had entered into such close relationship with him. He was -absolutely unscrupulous, and soon his escapades won him an unenviable -reputation among the other students, although he always managed, by -skillfully covering his trail, to stand well with the authorities of the -school. - -Before many weeks had passed, a particularly heinous outrage, which -he had committed, set the whole school in an uproar. It could not be -overlooked, and a strict investigation was started. - -What was my horror to discover that his devilish ingenuity had woven a -web of evidence which thoroughly enmeshed me within its coils! There was -no escape; I was dismissed in disgrace from the school, and in disgrace -I left England. The notoriety I received in many of the leading papers -of the Kingdom made it impossible for me to enter another school or to -obtain any honest employment. - -I came to America, working my passage over upon a cattle ship. The years -that followed were hard ones, but by sober industry I forged slowly ahead -until, at last, I had bright prospects of becoming the junior partner in -a large business house in Baltimore. - -Then my evil genius appeared. Silvela obtained employment in our company, -and by his devilish cunning soon made himself well liked and trusted. - -Then one morning, a few months after he came, it was reported that a -large amount of money had been stolen from the firm. Again a network of -circumstantial evidence pointed indisputably in my direction. - -I was arrested and brought to trial. The evidence not being entirely -conclusive, the jury disagreed, and I was set free; but my career in -America was forever blasted. - -As soon as I could close up my affairs, I buried myself in the wilds -of Australia, where I began life anew. Fortune was kind to me and I -prospered. Under another name, I became a respected and honored citizen -of a thriving new settlement. - -Then the crowning blessing of all came when I won the love of the -beautiful Mercedes, a black-eyed, olive-hued immigrant from my old -province of Andalusia. Then, indeed, I was at the threshold of Heaven! -But how short was my day of bliss! - -Four weeks before our wedding day Silvela Castelar suddenly entered our -settlement. It is useless to dwell upon that wretched period. Sufficient -to say that this hellborn fiend again worked his diabolic sorcery, and -Mercedes was lost to me forever. - -The report came to me that Silvela, for the first time in his life, -loved with a fierce, consuming passion, and that Mercedes soon would be -betrothed to him. Then it was that I vowed by all that was holy that -Silvela Castelar should pay in full his guilty debt, even though, as a -result, my soul should sink into stygian blackness. - - * * * * * - -Why do I write this? Because I take a grim pleasure in telling of -my revenge, and because I want the world to know that I had just -provocation. I am not afraid. Life or death—it matters little which is my -portion now. When this is read I shall be far from the haunts of men. - -Silvela Castelar thought I was a fool. It suited my purpose that he -should continue to think so. I treated him as a bosom friend, and he, -poor idiot, thought I never guessed that he was the instigator of the -ruin which drove me from England, wrecked my business career in America, -and in the end left me desolate, without hope of ever enjoying the -blessings of love. - -So, while we smoked, read, or hunted together, I brooded upon my wrongs, -and racked by brain for some method by which I could accomplish that -which was now the sole absorbing motive of my life. Then chance threw -across my path the instrument of my vengeance. - -One day, while I was wandering, desolate and alone, through a wild and -unexplored part of the country, I came upon one of the rarest and at the -same time one of the most terrible species of the vegetable kingdom ever -discovered. It is known as the octopus plant, called by the natives “the -devil tree.” When I saw it my heart gave a throb of exultation, for I -knew that my search was ended; the means by which I could accomplish my -purpose was now at hand. - -Silvela and I had but one passion in common—an intense love for botanical -investigation. I knew that he would be interested when he heard of my -strange discovery, and I believed that his knowledge of the plant was not -sufficient to make him cautious. On the evening of the next day but one, -as we sat smoking, I broached the subject. - -“Silvela, in the old days you used to be considerably wrapped up in the -study of plant life. Are you still interested?” - -“Somewhat,” he replied, and then his eyes narrowed craftily. “I exhausted -the interesting possibilities of most of the known plants of the world a -number of years ago. Lately I have found ‘the light that lies in women’s -eyes’ a subject of greater interest.” - -I could have strangled him where he sat; but a lifetime of trouble has -taught me to conceal my feelings. I betrayed no emotion. - -“I’ll venture that there is one plant which you have never studied at -first hand.” - -“What is that?” he asked, with mild curiosity. - -“A plant,” I continued, “found only in the most inaccessible places -of the earth. Probably it could be seen only in the wildest parts of -Sumatra or Australia, and then scarcely once in a lifetime.” - -He was now thoroughly aroused. - -“What is the family of this wonderful shrub?” he asked. “I have a dim -recollection of having heard of it. Let me see—isn’t it called—” - -“The devil tree by the natives, by others the octopus plant,” I broke in. -“But I have heard that the name is somewhat of a misnomer. It is said -that it is rather a tree of heaven, for it distills a rare and delicious -nectar which has a wonderful rejuvenating power. At the same time it -intoxicates in a strange and mysterious manner, causing him who drinks -to revel in celestial visions of love and radiant beauty. Instead of -leaving one depressed, as is the case with alcohol, it is said that the -impression lingers, the face grows younger, and he who sips is actually -loved by any of the female sex whose eyes look upon him. Indeed, I have -heard that if our countryman, Ponce de Leon, had gone to the South Seas -instead of to Florida, he would have really discovered the fountain of -youth for which he sought.” - -I looked at Silvela. His eyes were sparkling, and he was breathing -quickly; I knew I had found his weak point. His was a dreamy, -half-superstitious nature, and my words appealed to him strongly. - -“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Would that I could see this marvelous phenomenon and -sip of its celestial juice!” - -“It could be done,” I replied, hesitatingly, “but it would involve some -hardship and considerable danger.” - -“Did you ever see one of these plants?” - -“Yes; not two days since.” - -Silvela sprang to his feet, with a Spanish oath. - -“_Dios mio!_” he cried. “Rodriguez, why did you not tell me? When can we -start to find it?” - -“Softly,” I admonished. “I told you there was danger. Haven’t you heard -that this devil’s plant has been known to gorge itself upon human flesh?” - -“The wild story of some frightened native,” he scoffed. “Take me to -it and nothing shall prevent me from testing the fabled powers of its -juices. Stop! Did you not drink of this delicious nectar?” - -I shook my head sadly. - -“No, I had no wish to try. Why should I seek to become young in body when -my heart is old within?” - -“You were afraid,” he sneered, “afraid of the trailing tendrils of this -plant devil.” - -“Have it that way if you wish,” I answered indifferently. “However, if -in spite of my warning, you still persist in wishing to see this strange -freak of nature, I will do my best to guide you to it; but, I repeat, the -way is long and difficult, and you had better leave this cursed thing -alone.” - -“We will start in the morning,” he asserted decisively, as he arose to -leave. - -I said nothing more, but, alone in my room, I laughed like a devil at the -success of my ruse. - - * * * * * - -Next morning the weather was squally and tempestuous, and I was afraid -that the fire of Silvela’s enthusiasm would be burning low. But I also -knew that opposition would be fuel to the flame. - -“I fear we shall have to postpone our journey,” I remarked, when he -appeared. - -If Silvela had any doubts as to the advisability of our starting out that -morning, they vanished at once. - -“Nonsense!” he rasped. “It is fine weather for our purpose.” - -“All right, my friend,” I replied. “Remember, though, that I advised -against going.” - -“The consequences be upon my head,” he rejoined. “Come, let us be on our -way.” - -Our path was strewn with difficulties, and we progressed but slowly. At -times the wind howled and whistled across the wild spaces with a sound -so mournful that it sent a shudder through me. The heavens were murky, -and low, dark clouds raced across the leaden sky as though fleeing from -some scene of horror. Great rocks impeded our progress at every step, and -their grotesque forms seemed to leer at us evilly as we passed. At length -Silvela paused and mopped his brow. - -“Come,” I exclaimed, “you are tired and exhausted. The day is declining. -Let us go back.” - -Silvela hesitated, and there was an instant in which I was afraid -he would take me at my word. Then he straightened, and his chin set -determinedly. - -“No. We have come far; we will continue to the end. Lead the way.” - -“So let it be,” I returned grimly. “We will continue to the end.” - -I thought a tremor passed over Silvela’s sturdy form and that his face -paled slightly, but he turned resolutely and followed me as I pushed -forward once more. - -It was late in the afternoon when we approached the end of our journey. -The clouds had become less dense, and the sun, hanging low upon the -horizon, gleamed through with a sullen glare. The whole western sky bore -the appearance of curdled blood. - -At length I led the way around an immense rock, stopped, and pointed to -the north. There, but a short distance ahead, stood the ghastly plant. - - * * * * * - -It was, in appearance, like a huge pineapple about ten or twelve feet -in height. From the top sprang the broad, dark green leaves, trailing -downward to the ground and enclosing the plant in a kind of cage. - -Inside these leaves, at the top of its bulky body, could be seen two -round, fleshy plates, one above the other. Dripping constantly from -these was a golden, intoxicating nectar, the fatal lure that tempts the -victim to his fate. Surrounding these plates were long green tendrils -or arms like those upon an octopus. A slight pressure upon one of these -disks would cause the serpent-like tendrils to enfold the victim in their -deadly embrace, while the sweet fluid rendered the poor wretch oblivious -to danger until it was too late. - -Silvela stood for a moment silently looking at the strange plant at which -I pointed. - -“It is an uncanny sight,” he muttered, and a shiver ran over his body. - -“Uncanny it is, indeed,” I replied. “I, for one, have no desire to make a -closer acquaintance.” - -“You were always ready to show the white feather,” he derided scornfully. - -I did not openly resent this; I could bear insult for a little while -longer. - -“Silvela,” I said, “Let us leave this dreadful plant alone. I implore you -to return with me now. You have seen this horrid thing, why should you -care to test the legendary power of the fluid which it distills?” - -“Because I love,” he replied in a dreamy voice, “and I wish to be loved -beyond all men. If it be, indeed, the fountain of youth, what danger can -deter me from sipping its miraculous juice?” - -“Then I will say no more. Drink, then, of the fabled wonders of this tree -of destiny, and may all the joy and all the happiness to which your life -entitles you, come to you as you drink the nectar that drips in golden -drops from its heart.” - -Silvela darted a quick look at me from his dark eyes, as though half -suspecting a hidden meaning in my words. Then he stepped quickly toward -the ominous plant. - -“Careful!” I cautioned, “Do not touch the long, green tendrils. There is -where the danger lies, for they might tear your flesh.” - -Silvela stood for an instant close beside the trailing arms, his -eyes glowing with a half insane light. His face was flushed with the -passionate fire that surged through his veins. To his susceptible mind I -know that it was the crowning adventure of his life. I could tell that -his heart was pounding, from the throbbing arteries of his throat. His -lips were moving, and I strained my ears to catch the sound. - -“For Mercedes!” he murmured, and stepped between the hanging tendrils. - -Another moment’s pause, and he bent down to the fleshy plates in the -heart of the plant and drank long and deeply of the golden juice. -Dreamily he closed his eyes, and, leaning forward, I could faintly catch -some of the broken accents that came from his lips. - -“Ah, love, my only love!” he murmured, “See, beloved, the angel -faces—celestial voices coming near—sweet, how sweet—the unearthly light -of elysian fields—ah, the heavenly perfume—the surging of the eternal -sea!” - -With folded arms, I stood and waited. Lost to all else save the delights -of his entrancing vision, every faculty, every sense deluded into happy -quiescence by the chimerical phantasm, he did not note the tremulous -vibrations which ran through the whole mass of the horrible plant. - -Slowly at first, and then more quickly, the long, sinewy palpi began to -rise and twist in what seemed a fearful dance of death. Higher and higher -rose the dreadful arms, until they hovered over the unconscious form of -their victim. - -Once I pressed a little too closely, and one of the awful, twisting -tendrils came in contact with my hand. I sprang back and just in time for -so deadly was the grasp of the noxious arms, that the skin was stripped -from my flesh. - -Slowly, but surely, the octopuslike arms settled about Silvela’s body. -One of them dropped across his cheek. As it touched the bare flesh a -tremor ran through his frame, and he suddenly opened his eyes. - -It was only a moment until he was fully awake to the horror of his -position. While he was reveling in dreams of paradise, the grim arms of -the death plant had enclosed him in their vise-like clasp, and I knew -that no power upon earth could make them relax until they opened to throw -forth the dry husk—the dead skin and bones—of their prey. Already they -had so constricted his chest that he could breathe only in short, panting -gasps. His terror-stricken eyes sought my face. - -“My God, Rodriguez!” he cried in a terrible voice. - -The arms gripped him closer. He gasped out a word, “_Help!_” - -“Silvela Castelar,” I said, with quiet bitterness, “You are beyond all -human aid. I could not help you if I would. Once within the grasp of -those awful arms, I would be as helpless as you. Remember at every step -of this fatal journey I warned you, but at each warning you grew more -determined. Three times you have brought ruin upon me; the third time -you left for me nothing in life, but I was resolved that you should not -enjoy what I had lost. Silvela, tonight the debits and credits of your -account with me stand balanced. Across the page of the book of life I -write the words, ‘_Paid in full!_’” - -He heard me through. Then, as he realized that hope was gone, shriek -after terrible shriek burst from his frenzied lips. In his terror and -despair, he struggled in a madness of desperation; but every movement -caused the embrace of the ghastly arms to tighten upon his body. - -With a sick heart, I turned from the awful scene and plunged forward on -my homeward path. As I passed around the great rock from where we had -first glimpsed the fatal tree, a last heartbreaking wail reached my ears. - -“_Mercedes! Mercedes!_” - -Like the last cry of a lost soul hovering over the abyss of gehenna, -it shrilled in vibrating terror through the air, echoing back from the -ghoulish rocks, and then died away into the silence of the approaching -night. - -A faintness seized me, and I shivered at the touch of the chilling breeze -which sprang up as the sun sank, blood-red, below the horizon; and my -heart was as cold as my shrinking flesh. - -Sunshine or shadow—it is the same to me now. But in recompense for my -shattered life, I shall carry with me always, the vision of Silvela’s -distorted form writhing in close embrace of the devil-tree’s snaky arms, -in my ears there will ever ring the echo of his last despairing cry of, -“_Mercedes!_” - - - - -HOOTCH - -_By_ William Sanford - - -I had committed murder. In a terrible fit of rage I had killed my friend, -Jim McCarthy. I was going to be hung at sunrise. There was no hope. I -must die. - -Slowly the great steel door swung open, and four guards entered my cell. -One of them stepped a little in advance of the others. - -“Come!” he said, and that was all. - -I rose, tottering, from my bench. I must die! I must leave the sunlight -of the earth behind me. I had committed murder. - -I was led through the cold, bleak prison corridors and out into the -lighted courtyard where a number of people were gathered—prison officials -and a few newspaper men. The scaffold stood before me, and with tottering -legs I was assisted to the top. - -A black cap, a horrible thing spelling death, was fitted over my head and -drawn tight about my neck. All was still about me. No one spoke. - -I felt the noose placed about my neck. The cold sweat broke out over my -body. I could scarcely stand. Death! _Death!_ I was to know the feeling -of that terrible rope in a few moments. - -“Ready!” said a sharp voice. - -I felt the earth slip from under me, and I shot into space. A feeling of -suffocation, indescribably terrible, enveloped me, and a million sparks -of fire seemed dancing before my eyes, though I could not see. I tried to -scream, but could make no sound. Then something seemed to burst; my lungs -were free; I gave a terrible cry. - -A voice from above came sharply down to me: - -“What the devil’s the matter with you, Bill?” - -The ship gave a lurch and brought me wide awake. In the dim light of the -cabin I saw Jim McCarthy’s face peering at me from the bunk above. - -“Jim,” I said, wiping my sweat-soaked face with the sheet. “If you fill -me up on any more of your home-made hootch I _will_ kill you!” - - - - -THE THUNDER VOICE - -_The Story of a Hairy Monster_ - -_By_ F. WALTER WILSON - - -It was my grandfather who told me of The Thunder Voice, and of the -terror which it spread throughout the Valley of Trelane away back in the -early days, when scattered Indians hunted the forests thereabouts—told -me of how the gruesome horror of it changed strong men into whimpering -weaklings, afraid to step beyond their thresholds after dark. - -Perhaps I was a morbid child, for it was on wild storm-ridden nights, -when the rain splashed in sheets against the windows and the raving wind -screamed dismally about the eaves of the big house, that I would climb -upon his knee and beg for “The Thunder Stories,” as I had come to call -them. - -Full well I knew that I would later creep up the dark stairs with quaking -knees, and with my heart pounding against my ribs—knew too, that I would -lie awake, with the blankets drawn tightly over my head, and listen, yet -dread to hear—the Thunder Voice! - -The Indians had so named it—for that is what their word “Namshka” -meant—but grandpa himself had heard The Thunder Voice, when he was no -older than I, and he assured me that it was little akin to thunder in its -tone, although it came to be known in the valley by the name the Indians -had given it. - -It was on the night Jeanne Delloux lay dead in the pine-wood coffin in -the best room of Bartien Delloux’s cabin that The Thunder Voice was first -heard in the valley. - -It was a custom, when one died, that neighbors would sit all night with -the bereaved, to lessen somewhat the poignancy of the first smarting -blows of grief. Bartien’s cabin could scarce hold them all that night, -for he was popular with the valley folk; and Jeanne, his wife, had been -loved by young and old alike. - -“_Boom! Boom! A-i-e-h—_” - -Its first notes were deep and strong, but trailed off into a shrieking -scream—first loud, then dying out in a wailing whine. - -The men held their breath, their questioning eyes fixed upon each other. -The women screamed, and Millie Barton fainted. - -Again and again it sounded, coming, it seemed, from somewhere down the -valley road. At length the men found voice: - -“It’s a panther,” suggested John Carroll. “I’ve heard many a one before.” - -“If you have, then you know that’s no panther,” another retorted. - -Fear was written on every face but one. Old man Dodson—Old Bill Dodson, -as he was known in the valley—had yet to learn what fear meant. But -before another sunrise he was to know. - -Shouldering his flint-lock musket, he opened the door and passed out into -the pitch-black night, which now and again was illuminated by flashes of -lightning, for a storm had threatened since early twilight. - -Grouped about the fireplace, the others huddled together and listened, -scarce breathing, for another of those cries which made the roots of -one’s hair to tingle, and the spine to prickle creepily. For a time it -came at almost regular intervals: - -“_Boom! Boom! A-i-e-h—_” - -At length a shot was heard, and several of the men sprang to their feet. - -“He’s got it!” one cried. “Old Bill Dodson never missed a target in his -life.” - -And, thus reassured, they stood in the doorway, listening, and then -called loudly. From the black, still night there came no answer. Across -the ridge the rumble of distant thunder alone broke the awful quiet. - -It was near daylight when they heard a shuffling step, and, opening the -door, Dodson pitched headlong across the threshold. From his hands fell -the stock and barrel of his musket—broken one from the other! - -Physically, the old man’s injuries were slight. On his swollen neck were -four blackened welts extending half way round it. Otherwise, he appeared -unhurt—but his courage, his well-known bravery, was a thing of the past. -For the remainder of his life the old pioneer, who had faced so many -dangers, was a nerveless coward. At any unusual noise he would start in -abject terror. - -Questioned, he could tell but little. He had seen an object—a dark bulky -_something_—in the road, and had fired. It was too dark to see clearly, -but he could not have missed. Had it been of this earth it would now be -dead. - -After the shot it had vanished among the shadows. He was hurrying toward -it when something crashed down upon him from the overhanging boughs. -Long, hairy fingers closed about his throat and all went black. It was -the devil himself—of that he was positive. - -Even these startling events might have been forgotten, if the Voice -had given an opportunity to forget. Now here, now there, it would be -heard—sometimes in the direction of the ridge hills, at other times from -the river growth in the lowlands. Often it seemed quite near, and dogs -would bristle and whine, and lie under the beds with green-glowing eyes, -as they quivered in nervous fear. The horses, too, would tremble in -their stalls when the unknown monster broke the night stillness with its -unearthly: - -“_Boom! Boom! A-i-e-h—_” - -The valley people seldom ventured out at night; and the younger men no -longer sought opportunity to boast of their bravery. - -It was some weeks after Jeanne Delloux was buried that Margaret Kingsley, -the young and pretty teacher of the valley school, disappeared. - -It was the Carroll’s who boarded her that winter, and John Carroll had -gone on a trip to the lower mill. Jennie, his wife, and the teacher were -alone in the cabin that night. Jennie had protested that she would not be -afraid, since Margaret would be with her. - -As Jennie related it, they had been seated before the fire, she engaged -in darning and Margaret correcting examination papers. For a time they -had been silently working when—from quite nearby—it came: - -“_Boom! Boom! A-i-e-h—_” - -Sick and limp from terror, Jennie’s work rolled from her lap to the -floor. The dog was outside, and piteously it whined and scratched at the -door, but she dared not open it. - -Then her attention centered on Margaret. She stood erect. Her face -betrayed no sign of fear. Instead—_she smiled_! - -Then, as Jennie watched, Margaret moved toward the door, opened it, and -walked out into the night. - -She was never seen again! - -Jennie called to her frantically, but there was no reply. She had moved -as one might walk in a sleep—her eyes wide open, but fixed straight -before her, gazing vacantly. - -Within the next three months, until about the beginning of the spring -rains, other strange things occurred in the valley. - -Lucy Duval met the monster at dusk one evening as she followed the -path through the woods behind the Rhodes’ place. She had swooned from -terror, and, recovering, fled in panic to her home, fainting again from -exhaustion as she reached the door. Safely within the house, she noticed -for the first time that her long hair, which had been coiled upon her -head, now hung unfettered. The pins and two side-combs, which had held it -in place, were missing! Aside from the shock she was uninjured. - -A school child, too, saw the beast as she came from school, and while -it was yet daylight. Her parents went in frantic search when she failed -to arrive at the usual time, and found her cringing in terror by the -roadside. Her leather school-bag, containing her books and writing -materials, was nowhere to be found. - -It was a very long time before the child recovered from the fright -inspired by “the big hairy man” as she described the monster. - -Again, on a gusty, moon-haunted night, it was heard by Jule Darien and -his wife—right in their yard! Had they dared, they could have looked from -the window and seen it, but instead they bolted the door of their room -and lay face down upon the bed—a fact they were not at all ashamed to -admit. - -In the morning Jule’s clothing still fluttered from the rope -clothes-line, which spanned between oak trees in the yard behind the -cabin—but every garment belonging to his wife had disappeared! An even -greater misfortune was the loss of three soft, heavy, woolen blankets. -But Jule Darien and his wife considered this a trivial matter in view of -the fact that they had been unharmed. - -It was Delia Callahan, of all the valley folk, who found aught that was -amusing in these uncanny doings. - -“It’s true—as ol’ man Gibson’s always maintained—th’ devil’s a woman; -ain’t it proven, right ’ere in th’ valley?” she demanded. “An’ it’s an -eddication she’s goin’ to git, too. Some fine day she’ll be comin’ to -th’ school wi’ her books in th’ school bag, an’ her hair done up wi’ -Lucy Duval’s side-combs, an’ like as not a’ dressed up in Fan Darien’s -clothes. _Ha! Ha!_—it’s too funny!” Shaken with laughter, she rocked back -and forth until tears rolled from her bright blue eyes. - -But she was quite alone in her mirth, for there was none who laughed with -her. None dared to laugh. They feared to make sport of The Evil One. - -The long winter broke at last with a protracted period of drenching -rains. Never in all the experience of the valley dwellers had there been -so much rain in such a length of time. Rivers could not be forded; the -rich, loamy soil was washed in great patches from the fields; little -gullies, usually dry, now ran brimming with muddy water. Cattle were -drowned and the spring planting was long delayed. - -But when the sun again broke through the gray clouds people began to -remark that for a long time they had not heard The Thunder Voice. - -As a matter of fact it was never heard again. - - -_II._ - -So ran the stories, and so often did my grandfather tell them, in order -to humor my childish demands, that at length I could repeat them all—just -as he told them, and almost word for word. - -One by one, the years dropped into history, and recollection of “The -Thunder Stories” came to me but rarely; and brought, instead of thrills -of horror, only a mild amusement, as I would reflect on them as folk-lore -of the Valley of Trelane. - -But, there was the disappearance of Margaret Kingsley. That was difficult -to explain away. A normal, healthy young woman walks out into the night -and is never seen again! - -Hunters accustomed to trailing animals and Indians utterly failed in -their efforts to find her, or to track this evil monster to its lair. -Often its spoor was plainly marked—a four-toed foot of unfamiliar shape. -Bloodhounds had been brought from a distant settlement; but, as with the -human hunters, the trail ended at the base of a huge white-oak tree. -There the dogs looked up and whined; they could follow the scent no -further. - -Along with fairy tales, and stories of grim giants, told to me in -childhood days, these stories of the Thunder Voice might have passed into -hazy forgetfulness, but for a grisly reminder which occurred while I was -studying to become a physician. - -In the college I found much interest in visiting the library and poring -over bound volumes of _The Medical Journal_. Some of these dated back to -many years before my birth. - -It was while reading one of these that I suddenly started into quickened -interest at sight of a familiar name—_Bartien Delloux_! - -For a few moments I could not recall where I had heard the name, and then -came back to me my grandfather’s stories. I pictured again, as I had -often done before, the log cabin peopled with sympathetic neighbors come -to console Bartien Delloux. The dead body of his wife in an adjoining -room. The dull rumble of distant thunder, with now and again flashes of -lightning. And then, suddenly, from out the black night—The Thunder Voice! - -It was he—the same Bartien Delloux—his name handed down on these -age-brown pages in a history of most unusual kind. - -A physician had told the tale in plain matter-of-fact language. Briefly -it was as follows: - -A patient, who said his name was Bartien Delloux, lay dying in a charity -hospital. He asked for a priest. The priest remained with him until he -died. Then, coming to the doctor, the priest had remarked: - -“I think that man’s story is of more concern to your profession than to -mine. I’m sorry you didn’t hear it.” - -“How so?” the doctor inquired. - -“Well, because it dealt with the bodily, not the spiritual side of life. -It was not confided to me under the sanctity of the confessional, for the -man had nothing to confess in the matter. He simply wanted my opinion, -and if possible some comforting assurance. Given under these conditions I -can repeat it to you.” - -Urged by the doctor, the priest continued: - -“At one time the man lived in one of the Eastern Townships of the -Province of Quebec, in a district known as the Valley of Trelane. Once a -year it was his custom to go to Quebec and market his stock of furs, for, -like others who dwelt in the valley, he combined the pursuit of farmer -with that of a hunter and trapper. - -“On one such trip his wife accompanied him. This was against his wishes, -since the journey at that early day was beset with dangers and hardships. - -“One day, as they walked about the city, they came upon a tentshow, -stationed on a vacant lot. Outside the tent, banners announced the -exhibition of a so-called ‘wild-man,’ said to have been captured in the -jungles of Africa. They visited this show, and from Delloux’s description -the creature was evidently a huge gorilla. - -“After a brief look at the ugly thing, Delloux made to go away, but his -wife would not consent to leave. Fascinated, she stared between the iron -bars, and the hideous-featured animal crept close to her, and crooned -and gently whined as it gazed at her with little black beady eyes, which -peeped from its black wrinkled face. - -“At length Delloux induced his wife to accompany him. As she moved away -the animal became violent. Tearing frantically at the iron bars, it -growled and screamed. So vigorously did it shake the bars that it seemed -the cage must fall to pieces. The owner of the show urged them to leave -quickly. - -“They returned to their home, and later, when their child was born, it -resembled—in miniature—the gorilla!” - -“It is not an impossible instance of pre-natal influence,” the doctor -remarked. - -“Perhaps not,” replied the priest, “but there are incidents pertaining to -its later life which I fancy are quite unusual.” - -The priest’s story was resumed: - -“In spite of the ugliness of the half-beast the mother loved it dearly. -She realized, however, that it must not be seen by the neighbors, and in -consequence it was kept in the cellar, but when it grew older was allowed -to roam about at night. Always it returned before daylight, and crept to -its bed in a corner of the cellar. - -“Bright metal, and keen-edged tools, appeared to fascinate it, and due to -this the father first learned of its amazing strength. - -“Delloux possessed a long-bladed knife which he valued highly, and he was -using it one day in skinning a fox when his wife called to him. The knife -was left lying beside the half-skinned carcass of the animal. When he -returned, both had disappeared! - -“Entering the cellar, he found the beast cutting apart the body of -the fox and greedily eating it. It had never liked him; and when he -approached and made as though to take away the knife it rose and, with a -shove of its long arm, sent Delloux sprawling through the open doorway. -When he picked himself up the creature faced him from the door, and -growled menacingly. - -“It was then but ten years old. - -“Delloux was a strong man, but his strength was a puny thing when matched -against this powerful brute. The knife was abandoned to it thereafter. - -“From that day on, it refused to eat cooked food; but at night went into -the forest and killed game, which it carried home and ate raw. - -“A few words of the French language it was able to learn, but not enough -to permit of continued conversation. - -“Finally, on the night when Delloux’s wife lay dead, it went forth, -never to return to the cabin. That night, as Delloux’s neighbors were -gathered about his fireside in friendly condolence, strange cries were -heard—unlike those of any animal known to the vicinity. It inspired them -with a superstitious terror—and Delloux did not dare to make known to -them what he believed to be the real origin of the dread sounds. - -“After that night the weird, unearthly cries were repeated on many -nights, and throughout the valley people came to believe that The Evil -One himself had come among them. - -“Delloux alone knew the truth. - -“There were strange occurrences in the valley that winter, but whether -the thing was responsible for them or not, Delloux could not say. Some -claimed to have seen it. Perhaps they had. - -“Finishing his story, the dying man begged me for assurance that this -curse put upon him did not signify that his soul was lost, and I did for -him what the Holy Church prescribes in cases of similar kind.” - -There followed a lengthy report of the discussion by other physicians. -Some argued that the story was untrue—impossible. Others considered it -quite within the bounds of possibility. - -I closed the volume and gave myself over to reflection on the strangeness -of this tale. Assuming that it were true, the mystery of The Thunder -Voice was explained. But only in part, for many questions hurtled through -my mind as this story recalled them. - -What about Margaret Kingsley’s disappearance? Where had the beast lived -after it left Delloux’s home? Why had it indulged in the queer doings -which were so meaningless and puzzling? Why did it voice those terrifying -cries which frightened the usually brave pioneers? And, finally, what had -happened to still the awful Thunder Voice, leaving the valley people to -regain their wonted equanimity? - -At length I gave over the futile questioning. - - -_III._ - -Again a measure of years slipped by, and I was nearing my fortieth -birthday. I had succeeded in my profession. I was happily married. - -In the busy interest of full-lived days, the tales of The Thunder -Voice were again relegated to a place alongside the story of -Jack-the-Giant-Killer and other legends of the kind. But subconsciously, -behind my sane, sunlit life, there lurked a strong desire to know the -truth—_all_ the truth—about this strange affair; for, try as I might, I -could not catalogue it with mythical legends, for somehow I _believed_ -Delloux’s story. - -It was about this time that I received a letter from a solicitor, who -resided in a small town to the north of Quebec, informing me that -a relative—a man named Carroll—had died without making a will, and -search had established that I was the next of kin, and his estate would -therefore come to me. - -I was greatly surprised, but on reflection I recalled having once heard -that the Carrolls, who lived in Trelane Valley were distantly related to -me. At that time I had given the information no serious attention. - -In order to settle the matter I went to interview the solicitor, and for -the first time in my life visited Trelane Valley. A broad fertile valley -it was; now beautified by acres of waving grain. Along the road on which -I motored were scattered substantial homes of the prosperous farmers. - -The legal formalities had been concluded, and I had signed my name to the -last of several documents when I had a visit from a stranger. - -He informed me that he was a Civil Engineer employed by the railway -company whose line ran through the valley. Davis was his name. His -company wished to build a water-tank nearby, and the only available water -supply which had been discovered was a large spring, which he understood -was located on land now owned by me. The company wished to lease the -water rights, and obtain permission to construct a pump house near the -spring. - -At his suggestion, I went with him to view the location of the spring, -and decide what I should do regarding his proposition. - -As we walked along the railway track he pointed out the location selected -for the tank, and then, leaving the right-of-way, we descended a gentle -slope and, turning sharply to the left, came before the face of an -outcropping ledge of gray, lichened stone. - -A large, almost circular, hole appeared in the cliff, and as we stood -before it, there lay, a few feet beneath us, a pool of bright clear -water. The roof of the hole pitched downward at a uniform slope to where -it met the level of the water. - -The deal was quickly arranged, and a lease of the water rights drawn up -and signed. - -I returned to Montreal and resumed my work. - -But it was a matter of only a few weeks until I was again called to -Trelane Valley. A letter from the railway company informed me that the -supply of water in the spring had failed, and they wished to cancel the -lease. - -The letter invited me to come and see for myself, and a few days later I -again stood at the mouth of the huge hole which opened into the upright -face of the cliff. - -But now the water had receded until, from the entrance, one could discern -only a black pool, far underground. The hole in the cliff was now the -entrance to a cave of impressive dimensions. The shaft pitched downward -at a gentle slope, and I could see that the roof of the cave now hung -clear, above the water. - -Through mud and slime we waded along the floor of the cavern until we -reached the water’s edge. Davis carried a flashlight, which he turned -into the further depth. On the other side of the water the floor sloped -upward until it became lost in the gloom beyond the reach of the light. - -Somewhat past the opposite edge of the water, I made out two -objects—bulky, and but dimly defined against the black floor. - -“What do you think they are?” I asked Davis. - -“Loose boulders—flaked off from above. Stones are always dropping from -the roof of caves.” - -This suggestion left me unsatisfied. Of course, such stones might be of -almost any shape, and yet the outline of those objects did not suggest -the chance figure of loose stones. - -Curiosity mastered me, but I was silent. - -Returning to the village, the cancellation of the lease was soon -effected. The very next day the pumping engine was hauled away, and -the board shack which housed it was torn down and removed. A few -pieces of its timber framing were left lying about—some of substantial -cross-section, and some pieces of board. - -This I noticed with satisfaction, for they would prove useful in carrying -out my determination to explore the cave. - - -_IV._ - -That night, while the village people slept, I walked to the cave. I was -equipped with a hammer, some nails, and an electric flashlight. - -From the refuse lumber of the pump-house I constructed a raft, and with a -pole to propel it, easily crossed the pool of water, and stepped out into -the muddy slime which covered the upward slope of the cave floor. - -Although encrusted with mud, it was at once apparent that one of the -objects I had come to examine was a human skeleton. - -But, _such_ a skeleton! - -Short of stature it was, with a barrel-like chest of prodigious size. The -arms reached well below the knees. The skull was of unusual thickness and -abnormal shape. - -It required no effort of imagination to recall the stories of The Thunder -Voice. Such a frame must have housed lungs of a power far surpassing -that of any ordinary human being. I could easily conjecture the vocal -might this creature had possessed when this skeleton had housed a living -organism. - -The other object was a boat—of most unusual build. - -It was constructed from rough slabs which had apparently been hewn from -solid timbers with an ax. It was flat-bottomed, with square ends which -sloped upward. The pieces were fastened together by wooden pegs driven -through roughly cut holes. - -I turned from the boat and, climbing the sloping floor, roved my light -about as I continued my exploration. A little further along the floor -under my feet became dry, and then the cave turned abruptly to the left. -Just beyond this turn I stumbled over something. - -It, too, was a skeleton! - -Different in every particular from the first, however. Its living tenant -had been fairly tall, and with a well-proportioned figure. The cave was -quite dry here, and only a light dust covered the yellowed bones. - -My interest quickened. There had been _two_ tenants in this unknown cave! -One, I felt sure, had been the son of Bartien Delloux—the creature with -The Thunder Voice. But who had shared this dark cavern with him? - -Inch by inch, I examined the floor, the walls, and even the roof of the -cavern. There was little to be seen—some bones of small animals, the -rusted blade of an axe, portions of rotted fur, and in a nook opening out -from the main cave were some scattered fibers of decayed cloth. - -Finally, when I was on the point of turning about to leave the place, -I found something which fired me with renewed interest. It was a small -bottle of flattish shape. The bottom was covered with dry, black, flaky -particles—dried ink, I surmised. - -In a crevasse of the rock I found a rotted leather bag, which -fell to pieces at my touch. From it dropped several articles, but -eagerly I seized upon one—an age-yellowed, thin, paper book; such as -school-children, even to this day, use for writing exercises. - -Gingerly I turned the leaves, for the paper was brittle with age. The -pages were filled with writing—but no childish scrawl, this! - -The penmanship was exquisite—of that type affected by ladies of a -generation long past—the letters narrow and slanting, yet as clear and -distinct as those on a printed page. - -Carefully I tucked the book inside my coat, and with all possible haste -made my way back to the village hotel. - - * * * * * - -Locking the door of my room, I opened the book, and the words upon its -first page brought me to a startled attention: - - “_Why am I, Margaret Kingsley, the child of good, honorable - parents, living now in a cave, eating raw meat, existing as - a savage—my mate, a hideous creature whose very sight would - disgust and appall the people I have heretofore known?_ - - “_The answer is, that I am here because I WANT to be here. - Since the night when he called to me, and I went forth to be - carried here in his arms, I have had many chances to escape, - but I CHOOSE TO REMAIN!_ - - “_Ugly he is, beyond argument, but I love him for his giant - strength, and for the tenderness he shows me—a tenderness - exceeding that of a mother for her child. Within his misshapen - body is a heart starved for affection—and that I am glad to - give._ - - “_Only a few words of French can he speak, and yet he quickly - grasps my unspoken wishes and tries to gratify them._ - - “_This book, the quill, the ink with which I write this, - belonged to one of my pupils. The other night he brought them - to me, in the bag containing her school books. How he obtained - them I know not. Secretly I had longed for the materials with - which to write—not that human eyes will ever see that which is - written here—but because I have been accustomed to write down - the things which are me—those inner thoughts and impulses which - possess and dominate me._” - - * * * * * - -Then followed pages describing her life in the cave—and of night journeys -through the woods when her mate would delight himself in voicing wild -cries—sounds which she came to love. Wildly she rejoiced with him, and -laughed as she thought of the terror these resounding cries brought to -the simple folk in the valley below them. - -Strangest of all, she thought, was his understanding of her slightest -wish without the medium of words. - -On one occasion she was trying to arrange her long hair, but the -hairpins she had brought to the cave had, one by one, been lost. It was -impossible to arrange the hair with none, and she had been vexed. That -very night he brought her some hairpins and two side-combs. The latter -she recognized—they belonged to Lucy Duval! Again she wondered how he had -obtained them; and laughed as she considered Lucy’s probable fright. - -Another time she had shivered with the cold, for the cave had been -damp—the next night he brought clothing, and several woolen blankets. - -Whatever he might be to others, he was her chosen man. He could not live -her kind of life—gladly she would live his. - -Then came an entry on the very last page. - - “_The storm! How it has rained, and rained, until somewhere - the flood has changed the course of some small stream, and now - we are imprisoned—the water has risen to the roof of the cave, - and we can no longer leave it in the boat. The flood came quite - suddenly, last night, while we slept._ - - “_Perhaps it may subside in time—but probably it will not. I - shall write no more. Good-bye, little book, and good-bye to - all—everything! In dying I can reflect that at least I have - lived. So very many never do!_” - -I closed the book. At last my strong desire to _know_ had been gratified. -In the yellowed manuscript which I held in my hand was inscribed the last -chapter in the mystery of The Thunder Voice. - -Now that curiosity was satisfied, the professional instinct asserted -itself. I reflected on the peculiar warped trait which so often causes -a woman gifted with all the refinements of civilization to become -infatuated with a male who is, in every sense, a barbarian. - -I recalled the season at Earlscourt exposition in London when a dozen -black, repulsive-featured cannibals had been exhibited. The over-zealous -attentions of a concourse of well-dressed women of apparent refinement, -who daily surged about them, caused their removal from the exhibit. - -No, there was nothing very remarkable in the infatuation confessed by -Margaret Kingsley. At least it was not remarkable to those who observe -life with wide-open eyes. - - - - -CASE No. 27 - -_A Few Minutes in a Madhouse_ - -_By_ MOLLIE FRANK ELLIS - - -Doctor Maynard paused midway of the long hospital corridor and waved an -inclusive hand toward its twin rows of iron-barred cells. - -“This, Wayne,” he said, “is the Psychopathic Ward. We have some unusual -cases here. Take, for instance, Number Twenty-Seven. I’m sure you will be -interested in Number Twenty-Seven. Step this way.” - -[Illustration] - -I obeyed with reluctance. I was concerned with Maynard, not his -psychopathic cases. We had not seen each other since our college days, -twenty years before, and I had hoped for a return of our old intimacy -during these few hours together, which chance had thrown in my way. - -I had knocked about the world, acquiring the kaleidoscopic knowledge of -life accorded the globe-trotter. Maynard had stayed at home, tinkering -with the mental workings of the human machinery until his name stood for -the accomplishment of amazing things in the realm of psychopathy. Each -had run true to form: Maynard’s passion was to make the wheels go round; -mine to wonder why they went. - -“This is Number Twenty-Seven,” Maynard continued, as he stopped before -a cell door. “I’ll let her tell her own story.... Good morning, Mrs. -Howard. How are you this morning?” - -At his words, a woman slowly rose from a bench against the far wall of -the cell. Then, abruptly, she made a sudden rush that ended in a frantic -shaking of the iron bars of the cell door where we stood. - -“Doctor Maynard! You’re a-goin to let me out, ain’t you? You’re a-goin’ -to let me go home an’ rub Jim’s head so’s he can sleep? Jim cain’t sleep -unless I rub his head for him. You know he cain’t, Doctor! I’ve told you -so, often.” - -“Yes, yes. You’ve told me often, Mrs. Howard.” Maynard gave me a -significant glance. “But tell me again, please. Maybe I will understand -better this time and let you go.” - -The woman strained her gaunt body against the cell door. She seemed in -a torture of anxiety, obsessed by a vital current of emotion in sharp -contrast to the pitiful meagerness of her personality. - -She wore a cheap cotton dress; her hair was plain about her sharp face; -and there was written upon her countenance that look of repression, of -negation of all right to exist as an individual, which marks the poorer -type of rural woman. - -It seemed for a moment as if she would break into a torrent of words; -then abruptly she fell back, silent, and the heartbreak in her eyes was -succeeded by a slow-growing horror. Yet her tragedy, whatever it might -be, brought with it a certain dignity which she had hitherto lacked. Her -attenuated homeliness forbade distinction, yet when she made pitiful -apology to Maynard, a certain nobility of soul shone from her eyes. - -“I’d forgot for a minute, Doctor Maynard, that I’d killed Jim. I’d forgot -that I hated him. I was thinkin’ he was alive and that I loved him like I -used to before the children was killed. I’m a wicked woman—the wickedest -woman that ever lived; but I wouldn’t be in this penitentiary if Jim -could a-slept without havin’ to have his head rubbed.” - -Maynard touched my foot at the word “penitentiary.” - -“That’s all right, Mrs. Howard.” His voice seemed unnecessarily loud -and cheerful against the thin anguish of her tones. “Tell me about the -children. How were they killed?” - - * * * * * - -“They was run over, Doctor.” - -No words can describe the deadness of her voice, as of a fierce pain -burnt out for lack of fuel for further endurance. - -“It was the poultry truck that goes by the farm every morning. Milly was -too little to know not to git in the road, an’ Jacky run out to grab her -back an’ he fell, Jacky did. ’Twasn’t nobody’s fault, Doctor. The man -that drives the truck, he always waved at the children as he passed, and -he most went crazy when it happened. An’ Milly was too little to know -better; an’ Jackie done the best he could—only six years old. - -“But afterwards me an’ Jim couldn’t sleep. At first we did, a night or -two, ’cause we was all wore out with the funeral and such; but after -the kinfolks was gone we couldn’t. We could see their faces—Milly’s and -Jacky’s. - -“Then, after a while, Jim got so’s he didn’t see ’em so bad, an’ he said -he could ’a’ slept, only for me. He said I ought to be a-gittin’ over it -some; an’ I reckon I should ’a’ been. I tried to, but it didn’t do no -good. Mebby ’twas because they was just the two of ’em an’ both goin’ at -once. - -“Jim got right fretful at me. He said a man couldn’t work on a farm an’ -not sleep. He was right, too. Jim always was sensible. - -“One night after I had worritted him considerable, a-cryin’, I found out -that I could put him to sleep by rubbin’ his forehead, slow an’ firm; an’ -so I done it right along every night after that an’ he slept fine. I was -glad, ’cause Jim was a hard worker an’ a good provider; an’ a man can’t -work on a farm an’ not sleep. - -“But somehow, after Jim had got to sleep of nights, things seemed a heap -lonesomer. Mebby if we’d lived nearer to the neighbors ’twould ’a’ helped -some. ’Twas so awful still, nights, out where we lived; an’ the moon come -in at the winder so white an’ all.... - -“Times, just before dawn, I’d git to wonderin’ if it would ’a’ happened -if I’d ’a’ been out in the front yard, a-watchin’ out for the childern, -instead of washin’ back in the kitchen. And I’d git to shakin’ all over -an’ couldn’t stop. Once I waked Jim up and begged him to talk to me; but -he said it wouldn’t help none for two of us to be losin’ our sleep, so I -never done it any more. Jim always was sensible. - -“At last I got so the work ’round the house dragged on me until I was -afraid I couldn’t git things done. I told Jim about it and he was sorry. -But he said a woman’s work didn’t matter so much—it could be let go—but a -man had to make the livin’. - -“Even with the work and all, I never wanted night to come. I’d git all -scared when it come on dusk. Jim didn’t like it. He said it wasn’t no -way to welcome a man home after a hard day’s work; an’ it wasn’t. I done -my best, but somehow I couldn’t laugh much or be lovin’; so Jim took to -drivin’ to town after supper was over. He hadn’t never done that before -the children was killed. - -“Some times he’d stay real late. Me not bein’ used to bein’ left alone -made it worse, too. Sometimes I’d git so tired waitin’ up for him I’d -feel like I could go to sleep right then. But of course I couldn’t, -account of havin’ to rub his head. You see, he’d got to dependin’ on it, -an’, as he said, a man had to have his sleep or he couldn’t work. - -“All this time, Doctor, I was lovin’ Jim an’ tryin’ to git along the best -I could. I knowed I’d been lucky to git Jim. He was a good man. He never -took tantrums like Pa. We’d never dared cross Pa at home ’cause he was -excitable-like; an’ finally he went crazy. They would a-took him to the -asylum, I reckon, only he died. - -“Mebby I’d ’a’ got so’s I could a-slept after a while, only ’bout this -time it come on to October, when the fall winds begin to blow, an’ the -house would creak of nights—kind of little breakin’ noises like babies -whisperin’.... An’ the shadows of the leaves on our big tree outside -the winder kept twistin’ about on the walls like little hands a-pushin’ -against coffin lids, a-tryin’ to git out an’ go back an’ find their -mammy’s breasts.” - - * * * * * - -She stopped abruptly and stood in tense stillness—as if she were back -in that hushed house of sorrow, with its sharp noises and its tiny, -mother-seeking shadow-hands upon the walls—listening to the silence, the -unendurable silence, of the waning hours. - -Doctor Maynard made a restless movement. With a start, the woman came -back to realities and turned to us once more. - -“I didn’t git to hatin’ Jim, Doctor, until after I took to usin’ them -pills they gave Ma when she was on her deathbed. She died, leavin’ a -bottle of ’em on the kitchen shelf—morphine, they call ’em. One night, -when I just couldn’t stand it no longer, I thought of them an’ I got one -an’ it helped a lot.” - -She paused, apparently musing upon how much it had helped. Then she went -on: - -“’Twas along about then that I got to hatin’ Jim, lookin’ at him sleepin’ -so hard, his face all red an’ his mouth open. ’Twasn’t that so much, -though, Doctor, ’cause I always thought Jim was nice-lookin’ even though -he was coarse complected. But he got to havin’ restless spells, wakin’ up -along of cock-crowin’ time, ’bout when I’d got my pill an’ had kind of -quit shakin’ over the shadows an’ things. Then I’d have to rouse up to -’em again an’ rub him to sleep once more. I got to wonderin’ if he’d die -right off, without it’s hurtin’ him none, if I’d press down hard on them -soft spots in his temples. Seem like havin’ to do it any more would be -more’n I could bear—” - -She stopped again as if re-living her torture; perhaps slipping once more -like a white wraith from bedroom to kitchen shelf and back again, to -stand looking down upon her husband’s sprawled figure, battling against -the up-surge of desire to crush out the life beneath her hands and be -forever free from her hideous task! - -“... I didn’t kill Jim, though, Doctor, until them pills give out. I -reckon mebby I wouldn’t never have done it if they hadn’t give out. But -after that ... sometime after that I killed Jim. I pressed down—down....” - -Maynard waited until he was sure she had finished; then he spoke in a -commanding tone. - -“_Mrs. Howard!_” - -Startled, she stared at us as if seeing us for the first time. She -grasped the cell door and shook it in a frenzy of anxiety. - -“Doctor Maynard! You’re a-goin’ to let me out, ain’t you? You’re a-goin’ -to let me go home an’ rub Jim’s head for him so’s he can sleep? Jim -cain’t sleep unless I rub his head! I’ve told you so often, Doctor....” - - * * * * * - -Maynard drew me away; but that pleading voice followed us down the length -of the corridor, thin, anguished— - -I hurried. - -When we had closed the door of the Psychopathic Ward behind us, Maynard -said: - -“Now that’s the interesting part of it—that last—to a psychologist. Did -you note that she still loves him, whenever she comes out from under her -obsession about killing him?” - -“Didn’t she kill him?” I asked. - -“Not at all. You see, when she could get no more of the drug, her grief -and her loss of sleep ‘turned her brain,’ as you laymen would say. -Remember what she said about ‘Pa’.” - -I battled with my bewilderment at this unexpected turn of the affair. - -“But I don’t understand!” I stammered. - -“Probably not. I shall try to explain it, as simply as possible and -without using scientific terms. You see, she had _wanted_ to kill him for -so long—had gone over the manner of it so often in her silent vigils—that -when at last her conscious mind became unbalanced the resisted desire -took its revenge by becoming a subconscious obsession, which announced -itself an accomplished fact. It is an interesting sidelight on -psychopathy, don’t you think?” - -I did not. I changed the subject. - -“What became of the man—her husband? How did he take it?” - -“Well. Very well, indeed. Level-headed fellow. Of course, he was upset -at first over her condition; but when we made it clear to him that she -was incurable he calmed down. He went home and slept on it for a night or -two—” - -“How do you suppose,” I broke in (I really could not resist asking -it)—“How do you suppose he got to sleep without—” - -“... And then he applied for a divorce,” continued Maynard, ignoring my -childish rudeness. “He wants to marry again, but, of course, our laws—” - -“_Marry!_” - -Maynard frowned. “One can see his point of view.” - -“Yes; to be sure. And our laws ... quite unsympathetic—” - -Maynard dismissed the matter with a magnanimous gesture. Also, his -kindling eye bespoke a concentration of interest which ignored the -trivial. He peered at me eagerly. - -“What would you think, Wayne—I am studying the case, and I ask -for information—would you be led to believe that her reason for -wanting to kill him was a subconscious sensing of that trait in him, -that eagerness to be rid of whatever irked him, regardless of his -responsibilities? Or, on the other hand, would you think it a flair of -sex antagonism—resentment that he, unlike herself, could resume a normal -existence so soon after an emotional cataclysm?” - -I fumbled my hat and turned toward the door. I wanted to get away. - -“My time is up, Maynard,” I said hastily. “Sorry, but I must go. Glad to -have had this visit with you. Awfully proud to have been the classmate -of a celebrity, you know, and all that. But I really cannot follow your -scientific subtleties. If you mean do I think his cruelty drove her mad—” - -Maynard threw up his hands. “Oh you laymen!” he laughed. “But come in -again, Wayne. Any time you’re passing through town. Glad to see you -always. We have some very interesting cases here.” - - - - -Deaf and Blind Students Perform Miracles - - -Wide attention has been attracted by two students at Northwestern -University, one of them stone blind, the other deaf and dumb, by reason -of their marvelous demonstrations in “seeing” and “hearing.” Wiletta -Huggins, deaf and dumb, can hear with her fingertips, or by placing a -pole against a speaker’s chest and feeling the vibrations. Professor -Robert H. Gault is conducting a series of experiments with her that may -eventually lead to teaching deaf mutes to talk. No less remarkable are -the achievements of the blind student, Carl Bostrom, who has so trained -his facial nerves and ears that he can “see” things that are denied those -who have the use of their eyes. In a crowded court room, he could tell, -by the sound of a prisoner’s voice, whether or not he was telling the -truth. Also, with uncanny accuracy, he told the dimensions of the room, -located the doors and windows, and calmly announced that on one side of -the room only men were standing, and on the other only women. - -“I can tell by the sounds,” he said—“little sounds that most people miss. -There is a difference in the noises made by men and women.” - -A reporter asked him how many persons there were in the court. - -He listened acutely, then said, “Seventy-five.” - -The reporter guessed one hundred. Another guess estimated the number at -sixty. The persons in the room were counted. There were exactly eighty -two. - - - - -The Finale - -_By_ WM. MERRIT - - -Thornton Stowe was always a puzzle to me. Very methodical in everything -from early childhood, he always seemed utterly devoid of impulsive -emotion. The only thing he ever did that really surprised me was to -suddenly declare, one evening, that he loved Josephine Thralton and was -betrothed to her. - -Soon, vague rumors about Stowe’s private life were breathed around -town, and his fianceé married Lakeland; the thick lipped, pock marked, -red nosed political boss of the town, whose character was known and -unquestioned, and about which each citizen held a private, unvoiced -opinion. - -I left town shortly after the wedding, and all that I heard of Stowe -after that was a newspaper account of his killing Lakeland. I then wrote -him the only letter since my departure; but knew him too well to expect -an answer. - -I returned, unannounced, one dreary afternoon in November. Quickening -my steps as I left the depot, I turned toward the roller mill, which to -the world was Stowe’s sole vocation, but to me, only his avocation for -the purpose of defraying expenses of the work in his private chemical -laboratory. - -I had left him experimenting with an explosive gas which was more -powerful and much cheaper than the most modern gunpowder. But it corroded -every metal known, except gold. If he could only find some means of -eliminating this fault, his fortune would be made. - -As I hurried through the heart of town, a lone pedestrian, who seemed -to shudder at the doleful dirge of the bare tree limbs overhead, and to -shrink from looking at the gloomy, leaden skies beyond, approached with -stooped shoulders and bowed head. It was Thornton Stowe; but he had so -changed since I had seen him last that, had he not spoken, I would have -passed him by. On the instant of recognition I was about to greet him -cheerfully, but there was such an air of pathos in his whole bearing -that I merely walked up and gripped his hand. It was as listless as his -spirits, and he looked into my eyes with a silent appeal that sickened my -soul to think of the emotions that impelled it. - -Finally I ventured, “How’s business in the old town now, Thornt?” I had -almost asked: “What’s the trouble?” but remembered that he had killed -Lakeland in July and, although he had been cleared on the plea of “self -defense” I felt a delicacy in arousing such reminiscences in a man of his -temperament. - -His reply puzzled me: - -“Let’s go on home to dinner. I’ve got to tell it to somebody.” - -He left me to my conjectures the rest of the way to his home, a large -gray brick house, a mansion for that little town, where he lived alone -with a faithful old negro man, an ex-slave, who prepared his meals and -kept the house in order. The untrimmed ivy on the walls of the old -antibellum home was in keeping with the neglected condition of the house, -which looked now like an old deserted castle. There was no light in the -front windows, although it was long after sundown. As we approached, my -spirits were damped with awe at the weird aspect. A premonition of horror -haunted me and it was only by a tremendous effort that I refrained from -making some excuse to go immediately to the hotel. - - * * * * * - -The door swung open noiselessly and easily and Stowe switched on the -lights in the hall. Everything was green, the sickly, poisonous green -of a stagnant tarn. The grim monotony of the hideous color, and the -suddenness with which the horrible aspect was revealed was appalling. The -curtains were green, the walls were green, the woodwork and furniture -were all green. With each turn of my head I was confronted by nothing but -that nauseating hue. My head swam. The ghastly invariable color seemed to -be pressing my eyeballs back into their sockets and irresistibly closing -ever closer and closer around me with its overwhelming and unbroken -density. The dull light from the green globe that hung in the center of -the hall seemed to stifle me. I was on the point of rushing back to the -street in frantic terror. - -We disposed of our coats and hats without a word and walked back to the -library. Again everything was the same ghastly green. The impelling -terror of aggravated claustrophobia rushed back upon me with redoubled -fury. I could not by force of will power, nor by artifice of reason, -shake off the uncanny dread that haunted me; but was now determined to -stay. - -Drinks were served, and my host then addressed me for the first time -since we had started home from the street; merely: - -“Help yourself.” - -He reached eagerly for a green bottle on the tray, drank two glasses of -absinthe from it, then rested his elbows on the table and stared steadily -at me for a few moments. - -The real specter now rose before me: had he killed Lakeland for self -defense or was it merely the diabolic fancy of a lunatic? If, with the -precise cunning of a maniac, he had devised a scheme so intricate and -flawless that it had baffled even the eye witnesses, then I was at the -mercy of a man, known to have the power of thought impelled by passions -and emotions and not controlled by reason. - -He began in an even hollow voice: - -“I guess you know why I killed Lakeland.” - -“I heard they found ‘self defense,’” I admitted. - -He swallowed a glass of wine at a gulp, then sneered with a note of irony: - -“Unquestionable evidence. Lakeland is the only man who has ever even -suspected that I intended to kill him when I shook hands with him. - -“You can guess the first thing he did: but he was Josephine’s husband -before I learned who started those stories. I felt that she hadn’t given -me a fair chance to disprove all he had said and I resolved to forget -her; but when I saw her getting paler and thinner because of the life she -had to live, I couldn’t help feeling a sympathy for her. When Lakeland -wanted to buy back the mill I had bought from his father because he had -found it to be the best paying business in town, I was fool enough to -tell him I’d trade with him if he would stop drinking. Of course he just -told me to go to hell with my morals and threw all his money into an -effort to kill my business. - -“I played the game with him until all my men suddenly refused to work -longer, and refused to explain why. That was too much; I shoved a pistol -into my pocket and went in search of him that very afternoon. When I -found him, he was, as usual, beastly drunk. To shoot him then would -convict me of murder in the first degree. Besides, I couldn’t snuff his -life out that way if my revenge was to be sweet. He must know about it, -for half the delight of revenge would be in knowing that I had made him -suffer without its costing me a thing.” - -I was amazed at the mad man’s logic; for mad he certainly was. - -“Of course,” he went on, “I thought first of my chemistry. He would come -to liquor like a hog to slop. A little potassium cyanide in it and he -would simply drop dead. There would be no symptoms of poison and the -coroner’s verdict would be ‘heart failure.’ But I never drank with him -and could not afford to make a special occasion for poisoning him. I -merely walked by. - -“‘Hello,’ he grunted. ‘Looks like I’ll have to run you clear out of town -to get that mill. It isn’t half as easy to take away as your girl was.’ - -“Several heard it; and I wouldn’t have changed a word he said if I had -had the power. - -“The very next day Lewis Dalton came into the mill and told me that -Lakeland was inquiring for me down in town. ‘And he’s sober today,’ he -added. What better could I ask? I shoved a wrench into my pocket—that -would be easily enough explained—and started immediately to town. I met -him just as I turned the corner on to Main Street. There were several -people in sight, but none within a hundred feet of us.” - - * * * * * - -Stowe’s expression had been gradually changing ever since he had begun -his story. Now he was completely transformed. He leaned far over the -table toward me, every muscle tense, his eyes snapping with a steely -glint that made me shudder to see. I took another drink of wine, but, for -the first time, he seemed to forget his completely. His lips drew in a -thin, straight, colorless line as he hissed with diabolic vehemence: - -“I held out my hand to him civilly enough, but spoke before he took it. -I didn’t call him Lakeland that time either, I called him by his right -name, the name he’s deserved ever since this world has been cursed with -his damned green eyed face. His hand went straight into his coat under -his arm, but I was ready for him. I grabbed his wrist and shoved him -back against the wall. As soon as he saw the wrench in my other hand he -realized that I was going to kill him, and the dammed coward got so weak -in the legs that he didn’t even try to get away. He groaned like a calf -when I hit him right over the temple. But his eyes; they still had enough -of the devil in them to look at me even while he was falling, and say: -‘You’re not ahead yet, even with this.’” - -He reached again for the green bottle and I offered no protest. Although -he had already had enough for two men, anything would be better than his -present condition. - -“I didn’t even know that she was sick when I killed him,” he continued. -“When they told me, I went straight to the house. She was dying—dying, -and that brute was down in town just walking around the streets while she -was calling for him and begging him to come to her! She recognized me as -soon as I got into the room and seemed to know all. - -“‘Where is Jim?’ she begged me to tell her. - -“I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. - -“‘Will I have to go to him?’ she cried; and she never spoke again, and -never took her eyes from mine. She is still looking straight into my -eyes. And since she died,” he groaned, “her eyes have gotten as green as -his.” - -“Then why, in the name of Heaven, have you made everything in the house -green?” I asked, reminded once more of our hideous surroundings. - -“So that I couldn’t see them here. But every way I turn they are looking -straight at me. Sometimes they almost blaze when I try to look away.” - -There was but one chance for him now: he must have some diversion. I -forgot that I had come to stay this time. - -“Say, Thornt,” I suggested, “come with me for a few weeks hunting in the -mountains. It’s been two years since you and I were together on a trip.” - -He sat for a moment in deep thought, his face twitching convulsively, his -eyes staring into vacancy. - -“I am going to get out of this town,” he finally asserted. - -I reached my hand across the table to him. He hesitated as though he -didn’t understand, but finally took it with the same grasp he had given -me on the street when he recognized my sympathy for him, and with the -same pathetic appeal in his eye, gripped it until I winced. - -While I still pondered over the situation he straightened up resolutely, -as though he had finally reached a determination. With a desperate effort -to control the emotion that now convulsed his whole being, he addressed -me in a dry, husky voice: - -“Frank, excuse me for a moment; and as we have always been friends, don’t -think hard of me tonight.” - -I nodded an assent and he walked slowly to a door at the far side of the -room, passed through and closed it. - -As soon as I found myself alone, the grim horror of my surroundings -attacked me with reinforced fury. The dread of my wretched host’s -insanity became more intense with him in the next room on a mysterious -mission, at which he had asked me not to be offended. Not even the -slightest sound proceeded now from the room he had entered. The -changeless monotony of the omnipresent green was enhanced by the -oppressive silence that reigned throughout the house, save for the -intolerable tick of the old clock that stood on the floor in the corner, -and seemed to pause indefinitely after each stroke, measuring eternity -instead of time. - -I had never seen inside that room more than half a dozen times in my -whole life. There was nothing in there to go for. It had been used as a -store room for old furniture ever since I could remember. Finally the -suspense grew unbearable. I rose impulsively, went hastily to the door -through which he had passed and flung it open. - -The room had been cleared of its junk and remodeled into a neat little -laboratory. Thornton stood at the far side of a table in the center of -the floor, pouring absinthe into a glass that was sitting perilously near -the edge. With the glass half full he placed the bottle on the table. -It tilted and rolled off; but he paid it no heed. Supporting himself -with one hand and raising the glass in the other, he seemed aware of my -presence for the first time. - -“Frank,” he gasped huskily, “no one but you knows; and they will never -guess.” - -I remembered in a flash, what he had said of his abandoned plan to poison -Lakeland, and realized; but before I could reach him he had drained the -glass. It slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. He stood -for a moment, staring on past me into space. - -I grasped the edge of the table for support and felt the cold sweat start -on my brow and weakening limbs. - -“Green as hell!” he muttered; and flinging his arms across his fixed -eyes, crumpled to the floor; then stiffened, stark and dead. - -For minutes I stood motionless, powerless to move. - -Finally, tossing a burning match into the spilt liquor, I answered his -last and only plea: - -“No, Thornt, they shall never know.” - - - - -_Here’s Proof of the Love of the Weird and Mysterious in the Eighteenth -Century_ - -THE CLOSED CABINET - -_By_ ⸺ ⸺ - - -_I._ - -It was with a little alarm and a good deal of pleasurable excitement -that I looked forward to my first grown-up visit to Mervyn Grange. I -had been there several times as a child, but never since I was twelve -years old, and now I was over eighteen. We were all of us very proud -of our cousins the Mervyns: it is not everybody that can claim kinship -with a family who are in full and admitted possession of a secret, a -curse, and a mysterious cabinet, in addition to the usual surplusage of -horrors supplied in such cases by popular imagination. Some declared that -a Mervyn of the days of Henry VIII had been cursed by an injured abbot -from the foot of the gallows. Others affirmed that a dissipated Mervyn -of the Georgian era was still playing cards for his soul in some remote -region of the Grange. There were stories of white ladies and black imps, -of bloodstained passages and magic stones. We, proud of our more intimate -acquaintance with the family, naturally gave no credence to these wild -inventions. The Mervyns, indeed, followed the accepted precedent in such -cases, and greatly disliked any reference to the reputed mystery being -made in their presence; with the inevitable result that there was no -subject so pertinaciously discussed by their friends in their absence. -My father’s sister had married the late Baronet, Sir Henry Mervyn, and -we always felt that she ought to have been the means of imparting to us -a very complete knowledge of the family secret. But in this connection -she undoubtedly failed of her duty. We knew that there had been a -terrible tragedy in the family some two or three hundred years ago—that -a peculiarly wicked owner of Mervyn, who flourished in the latter part -of the sixteenth century, had been murdered by his wife who subsequently -committed suicide. We knew that the mysterious curse had some connection -with this crime, but what the curse exactly was we had never been able -to discover. The history of the family since that time had indeed in -one sense been full of misfortune. Not in every sense. A coal mine had -been discovered in one part of the estate, and a populous city had grown -over the corner of another part; and the Mervyns of today, in spite of -the usual percentage of extravagant heirs and political mistakes, were -three times as rich as their ancestors had been. But still their story -was full of bloodshed and shame, of tales of duels and suicides, broken -hearts and broken honor. Only these calamities seemed to have little -or no relation to each other, and what the precise curse was that was -supposed to connect or account for them we could not learn. When she -first married, my aunt was told nothing about it. Later on in life, -when my father asked her for the story, she begged him to talk upon a -pleasanter subject; and being unluckily a man of much courtesy and little -curiosity, he complied with her request. This, however, was the only -part of the ghostly traditions of her husband’s home upon which she was -so reticent. The haunted chamber, for instance—which, of course, existed -at the Grange—she treated with the greatest contempt. Various friends and -relations had slept in it at different times, and no approach to any kind -of authenticated ghost-story, even of the most trivial description, had -they been able to supply. Its only claim to respect, indeed, was that it -contained the famous Mervyn cabinet, a fascinating puzzle of which I will -speak later, but which certainly had nothing haunting or horrible about -its appearance. - -My uncle’s family consisted of three sons. The eldest, George, the -present baronet, was now in his thirties, married, and with children of -his own. The second, Jack, was the black-sheep of the family. He had -been in the Guards, but, about five years back, had got into some very -disgraceful scrape, and had been obliged to leave the country. The sorrow -and the shame of this had killed his unhappy mother, and her husband had -not long afterwards followed her to the grave. Alan, the youngest son, -probably because he was the nearest to us in age, had been our special -favorite in earlier years. George was grown up before I had well left the -nursery, and his hot, quick temper had always kept us youngsters somewhat -in awe of him. Jack was four years older than Alan, and, besides, his -profession had, in a way, cut his boyhood short. When my uncle and aunt -were abroad, as they frequently were for months together on account of -her health, it was Alan, chiefly, who had to spend his holidays with us, -both as school-boy and as undergraduate. And a brighter, sweeter-tempered -comrade, or one possessed of more diversified talents for the invention -of games or the telling of stories, it would have been difficult to find. - -For five years together now our ancient custom of an annual visit to -Mervyn had been broken. First there had been the seclusion of mourning -for my aunt, and a year later for my uncle; then George and his wife, -Lucy—she was a connection of our own on our mother’s side, and very -intimate with us all—had been away for nearly two years on a voyage round -the world; and since then sickness in our own family had kept us in our -turn a good deal abroad. So that I had not seen my cousins since all the -calamities which had befallen them in the interval, and as I steamed -northwards I wondered a good deal as to the changes I should find. I -was to have come out that year in London, but ill-health had prevented -me; and as a sort of consolation Lucy had kindly asked me to spend a -fortnight at Mervyn, and be present at a shooting-party, which was to -assemble there in the first week of October. - -I had started early, and there was still an hour of the short autumn -day left when I descended at the little wayside station, from which a -six-mile drive brought me to the Grange. A dreary drive I found it—the -round, gray, treeless outline of the fells stretching around me on every -side beneath the leaden, changeless sky. The night had nearly fallen as -we drove along the narrow valley in which the Grange stood: it was too -dark to see the autumn tints of the woods which clothed and brightened -its sides, almost too dark to distinguish the old tower—Dame Alice’s -tower as it was called—which stood some half mile farther on at its head. -But the light shown brightly from the Grange windows, and all feeling of -dreariness departed as I drove up to the door. Leaving maid and boxes to -their fate, I ran up the steps into the old, well remembered hall, and -was informed by the dignified man-servant that her ladyship and the tea -were awaiting me in the morning room. - -I found that there was nobody staying in the house except Alan, who -was finishing the long vacation there: he had been called to the bar a -couple of years before. The guests were not to arrive for another week, -so that I had plenty of opportunity in the interval to make up for lost -time with my cousins. I began my observations that evening as we sat -down to dinner, a cozy party of four. Lucy was quite unchanged—pretty, -foolish, and gentle as ever. George showed the full five years’ increase -of age, and seemed to have acquired a somewhat painful control of his -temper. Instead of the old petulant outbursts, there was at times an air -of nervous, irritable self-restraint, which I found the less pleasant of -the two. But it was in Alan that the most striking alteration appeared. -I felt it the moment I shook hands with him, and the impression deepened -that evening with every hour. I told myself that it was only the natural -difference between boy and man, between twenty and twenty-five, but I -don’t think that I believed it. Superficially the change was not great. -The slight-built, graceful figure; the deep gray eyes, too small for -beauty; the clear-cut features, the delicate, sensitive lips, close -shaven now, as they had been hairless then—all were as I remembered -them. But the face was paler and thinner than it had been, and there -were lines round the eyes and at the corners of the mouth which were no -more natural to twenty-five than they would have been to twenty. The old -charm indeed—the sweet friendliness of manner, which was his own peculiar -possession—was still there. He talked and laughed almost as much as -formerly, but the talk was manufactured for our entertainment, and the -laughter came from his head and not from his heart. And it was when he -was taking no part in the conversation that the change showed most. Then -the face, on which in the old time every passing emotion had expressed -itself in a constant, living current, became cold and impassive—without -interest, and without desire. It was at such times that I knew most -certainly that here was something which had been living and was dead. -Was it only his boyhood? This question I was unable to answer. - -Still, in spite of all, that week was one of the happiest in my life. The -brothers were both men of enough ability and cultivation to be pleasant -talkers, and Lucy could perform adequately the part of conversational -accompanist which, socially speaking, is all that is required of a woman. -The meals and evenings passed quickly and agreeably; the mornings I spent -in unending gossips with Lucy, or in games with the children, two bright -boys of five and six years old. But the afternoons were the best part -of the day. George was a thorough squire in all his tastes and habits, -and every afternoon his wife dutifully accompanied him round farms and -coverts, inspecting new buildings, trudging along half-made roads, or -marking unoffending trees for destruction. Then Alan and I would ride -by the hour together over moor and meadowland, often picking our way -homewards down the glen-side long after the autumn evenings had closed -in. During these rides I had glimpses many a time into depths in Alan’s -nature of which I doubt whether in the old days he had himself been -aware. To me certainly they were as a revelation. A prevailing sadness, -occasionally a painful tone of bitterness, characterized these more -serious moods of his, but I do not think that, at the end of that week, -I would, if I could, have changed the man, whom I was learning to revere -and to pity, for the light-hearted playmate whom I felt was lost to me -forever. - - -_II._ - -The only feature of the family life which jarred on me was the attitude -of the two brothers towards the children. I did not notice this much at -first, and at all times it was a thing to be felt rather than to be seen. -George himself never seemed quite at ease with them. The boys were strong -and well grown, healthy in mind and body; and one would have thought -that the existence of two such representatives to carry on his name and -inherit his fortune would have been the very crown of pride and happiness -to their father. But it was not so. Lucy indeed was devoted to them, and -in all practical matters no one could have been kinder to them than was -George. They were free of the whole house, and every indulgence that -money could buy for them they had. I never heard him give them a harsh -word. But there was something wrong. A constraint in their presence, a -relief in their absence, an evident dislike of discussing them and their -affairs, a total want of that enjoyment of love and possession which in -such a case one might have expected to find. Alan’s state of mind was -even more marked. Never did I hear him willingly address his nephews, or -in any way allude to their existence. I should have said that he simply -ignored it, but for the heavy gloom which always overspread his spirits -in their company, and for the glances which he would now and again cast -in their direction—glances full of some hidden painful emotion, though of -what nature it would have been hard to define. Indeed, Alan’s attitude -towards her children I soon found to be the only source of friction -between Lucy and this otherwise much-loved member of her husband’s -family. I asked her one day why the boys never appeared at luncheon. - -“Oh, they come when Alan is away,” she answered; “but they seem to annoy -him so much that George thinks it is better to keep them out of sight -when he is here. It is very tiresome. I know that it is the fashion to -say that George has got the temper of the family; but I assure you that -Alan’s nervous moods and fancies are much more difficult to live with.” - -That was on the morning—a Friday it was—of the last day which we were to -spend alone. The guests were to arrive soon after tea; and I think that -with the knowledge of their approach Alan and I prolonged our ride that -afternoon beyond its usual limits. We were on our way home, and it was -already dusk, when a turn of the path brought us face to face with the -old ruined tower, of which I have already spoken as standing at the head -of the valley. I had not been close up to it yet during this visit at -Mervyn. It had been a very favorite haunt of ours as children, and partly -on that account, partly perhaps in order to defer the dreaded close of -our ride to the last possible moment, I proposed an inspection of it. The -only portion of the old building left standing in any kind of entirety -was two rooms, one above the other. The tower room, level with the bottom -of the moat, was dark and damp, and it was the upper one, reached by a -little outside staircase, which had been our rendezvous of old. Alan -showed no disposition to enter, and said that he would stay outside and -hold my horse, so I dismounted and ran up alone. - -The room seemed in no way changed. A mere stone shell, littered with -fragments of wood and mortar. There was the rough wooden block on which -Alan used to sit while he first frightened us with bogey-stories, and -then calmed our excited nerves by rapid sallies of wild nonsense. There -was the plank from behind which, erected as a barrier across the doorway, -he would defend the castle against our united assault, pelting us with -fir cones and sods of earth. This and many a bygone scene thronged on -me as I stood there, and the room filled again with the memories of -childish mirth. And following close came those of childish terrors. -Horrors which had oppressed me then, wholly imagined or dimly apprehended -from half-heard traditions, and never thought of since, flitted around -me in the gathering dusk. And with them it seemed to me as if there came -other memories too,—memories which had never been my own, of scenes whose -actors had long been with the dead, but which, immortal as the spirit -before whose eyes they had dwelt, still lingered in the spot where their -victim had first learnt to shudder at their presence. Once the ghastly -notion came to me, it seized on my imagination with irresistible force. -It seemed as if from the darkened corners of the room vague, ill-defined -shapes were actually peering out at me. When night came they would show -themselves in that form, livid and terrible, in which they had been burnt -into the brain and heart of the long ago dead. - -I turned and glanced towards where I had left Alan. I could see his -figure framed in by the window, a black shadow against the gray twilight -of the sky behind. Erect and perfectly motionless he sat, so motionless -as to look almost lifeless, gazing before him down the valley into the -illimitable distance beyond. There was something in that stern immobility -of look and attitude which struck me with a curious sense of congruity. -It was right that he should be thus—right that he should be no longer -the laughing boy who a moment before had been in my memory. The haunting -horrors of that place seemed to demand it, and for the first time I -felt that I understood the change. With an effort I shook myself free -from these fancies, and turned to go. As I did so, my eye fell upon a -queer-shaped painted board, leaning up against the wall, which I well -recollected in old times. Many a discussion had we had about the legend -inscribed upon it, which in our wisdom we had finally pronounced to be -German, chiefly because it was illegible. Though I had loudly professed -my faith in this theory at the time, I had always had uneasy doubts on -the subject, and now half smiling I bent down to verify or remove them. -The language was English, not German; but the badly painted, faded Gothic -letters in which it was written made the mistake excusable. In the dim -light I had difficulty even now in deciphering the words, and felt when -I had done so that neither the information conveyed nor the style of the -composition was sufficient reward for the trouble I had taken. This is -what I read: - - “Where the woman sinned the maid shall win; - But God help the maid that sleeps within.” - -What the lines could refer to I neither had any notion nor did I pause -then even in my own mind to inquire. I only remember vaguely wondering -whether they were intended for a tombstone or for a doorway. Then, -continuing my way, I rapidly descended the steps and remounted my horse, -glad to find myself once again in the open air and by my cousin’s side. - -The train of thought into which he had sunk during my absence was -apparently an absorbing one, for to my first question as to the painted -board he could hardly rouse himself to answer. - -“A board with a legend written on it? Yes, he remembered something of the -kind there. It had always been there, he thought. He knew nothing about -it,”—and so the subject was not continued. - -The weird feelings which had haunted me in the tower still oppressed me, -and I proceeded to ask Alan about that old Dame Alice whom the traditions -of my childhood represented as the last occupant of the ruined building. -Alan roused himself now, but did not seem anxious to impart information -on the subject. She had lived there, he admitted, and no one had lived -there since. “Had she not,” I inquired, “something to do with the -mysterious cabinet at the house? I remember hearing it spoken of as ‘Dame -Alice’s cabinet.’” - -“So they say,” he assented; “she and an Italian artificer who was in her -service, and who, chiefly I imagine on account of his skill, shared with -her the honor of reputed witchcraft.” - -“She was the mother of Hugh Mervyn, the man who was murdered by his wife, -was she not?” I asked. - -“Yes,” said Alan, briefly. - -“And had she not something to do with the curse?” I inquired after a -short pause, and nervously I remembered my father’s experience on that -subject, and I had never before dared to allude to it in the presence -of any member of the family. My nervousness was fully warranted. The -gloom on Alan’s brow deepened, and after a very short “They say so” he -turned full upon me, and inquired with some asperity why on earth I had -developed this sudden curiosity about his ancestress. - -I hesitated a moment, for I was a little ashamed of my fancies; but the -darkness gave me courage, and besides I was not afraid of telling Alan—he -would understand. I told him of the strange sensations I had had while -in the tower—sensations which had struck me with all that force and -clearness which we usually associate with a direct experience of fact. -“Of course it was a trick of imagination,” I commented; “but I could not -get rid of the feeling that the person who had dwelt there last must have -had terrible thoughts for the companions of her life.” - -Alan listened in silence, and the silence continued for some time after I -had ceased speaking. - -“It is strange,” he said at last; “instincts which we do not understand -form the motive-power of most of our life’s actions, and yet we refuse to -admit them as evidence of any external truth. I suppose it is because we -_must_ act somehow, rightly or wrongly; and there are a great many things -which we need not believe unless we choose. As for this old lady, she -lived long—long enough, like most of us, to do evil; unlike most of us, -long enough to witness some of the results of that evil. To say that, is -to say that the last years of her life must have been weighted heavily -enough with tragic thought.” - -I gave a little shudder of repulsion. - -“That is a depressing view of life, Alan,” I said. “Does our peace of -mind depend only upon death coming early enough to hide from us the -truth? And, after all, can it? Our spirits do not die. From another world -they may witness the fruits of our lives in this one.” - -“If they do,” he answered with sudden violence, “it is absurd to doubt -the existence of a purgatory. There must in such a case be a terrible one -in store for the best among us.” - -I was silent. The shadow that lay on his soul did not penetrate to mine, -but it hung round me nevertheless, a cloud which I felt powerless to -disperse. - -After a moment he went on,—“Provided that they are distant enough, how -little, after all, do we think of the results of our actions! There are -few men who would deliberately instill into a child a love of drink, or -wilfully deprive him of his reason; and yet a man with drunkenness or -madness in his blood thinks nothing of bringing children into the world -tainted us deeply with the curse as if he had inoculated them with it -directly. There is no responsibility so completely ignored as this one of -marriage and fatherhood, and yet how heavy it is and far-reaching.” - -“Well,” I said, smiling, “let us console ourselves with the thought that -we are not all lunatics and drunkards.” - -“No,” he answered; “but there are other evils besides these, moral taints -as well as physical, curses which have their roots in worlds beyond our -own,—sins of the fathers which are visited upon the children.” - -He had lost all violence and bitterness of tone now; but the weary -dejection which had taken their place communicated itself to my spirit -with more subtle power then his previous mood had owned. - -“That is why,” he went on, and his manner seemed to give more purpose to -his speech than hitherto,—“that is why, so far as I am concerned, I mean -to shirk the responsibility and remain unmarried.” - -I was hardly surprised at his words. I felt that I had expected them, but -their utterance seemed to intensify the gloom which rested upon us. Alan -was the first to arouse himself from its influence. - -“After all,” he said, turning round to me and speaking lightly, “without -looking so far and so deep, I think my resolve is a prudent one. Above -all things, let us take life easily, and you know what St. Paul says -about ‘trouble in the flesh,’—a remark which I am sure is specially -applicable to briefless barristers, even though possessed of a modest -competence of their own. Perhaps one of these days, when I am a fat old -judge, I shall give my cook a chance if she is satisfactory in her clear -soups; but till then I shall expect you, Evie, to work me one pair of -carpet-slippers per annum, as tribute due to a bachelor cousin.” - -I don’t quite know what I answered,—my heart was heavy and aching,—but I -tried with true feminine docility to follow the lead he had set me. He -continued for some time in the same vein; but as we approached the house -the effort seemed to become too much for him, and we relapsed again into -silence. - -This time I was the first to break it. “I suppose,” I said, drearily, -“all those horrid people will have come by now.” - -“Horrid people,” he repeated, with rather an uncertain laugh, and through -the darkness I saw his figure bend forward as he stretched out his -hand to caress my horse’s neck. “Why Evie, I thought you were pining -for gayety, and that it was, in fact, for the purpose of meeting these -‘horrid people’ that you came here.” - -“Yes, I know,” I said, wistfully; “but somehow the last week has been so -pleasant that I cannot believe that anything will ever be quite so nice -again.” - -We had arrived at the house as I spoke, and the groom was standing at -our horses’ heads. Alan got off and came round to help me to dismount; -but instead of putting up his arm as usual as a support for me to spring -from, he laid his hand on mine. “Yes, Evie,” he said, “it has been indeed -a pleasant time. God bless you for it.” For an instant he stood there -looking up at me, his face full in the light which streamed from the open -door, his gray eyes shining with a radiance which was not wholly from -thence. Then he straightened his arm, I sprang to the ground, and as if -to preclude the possibility of any answer on my part, he turned sharply -on his heel, and began giving some orders to the groom. I went on alone -into the house, feeling, I knew not and cared not to know why, that the -gloom had fled from my spirit, and that the last ride had not after all -been such a melancholy failure as it had bid fair at one time to become. - - -_III._ - -In the hall I was met by the housekeeper, who informed me that, owing to -a misunderstanding about dates, a gentleman had arrived whom Lucy had not -expected at that time, and that in consequence my room had been changed. -My things had been put into the East Room,—the haunted room,—the room -of the Closed Cabinet, as I remembered with a certain sense of pleased -importance, though without any surprise. It stood apart from the other -guest-rooms, at the end of the passage from which opened George and -Lucy’s private apartment; and as it was consequently disagreeable to have -a stranger there, it was always used when the house was full for a member -of the family. My father and mother had often slept there: there was a -little room next to it, though not communicating with it, which served -for a dressing-room. Though I had never passed the night there myself, I -knew it as well as any room in the house. I went there at once, and found -Lucy superintending the last arrangements for my comfort. - -She was full of apologies for the trouble she was giving me. I told her -that the apologies were due to my maid and to her own servants rather -than to me; “and besides,” I added, glancing round, “I am distinctly a -gainer by the change.” - -“You know, of course,” she said, lightly, “that this is the haunted room -of the house, and that you have no right to be here?” - -“I know it is the haunted room,” I answered; “but why have I no right to -be here?” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “There is one of those tiresome Mervyn -traditions against allowing unmarried girls to sleep in this room. I -believe two girls died in it a hundred and fifty years ago, or something -of that sort.” - -“But I should think that people, married or unmarried, must have died in -nearly every room in the house,” I objected. - -“Oh, yes, of course they have,” said Lucy; “but once you come across a -bit of superstition in this family, it is of no use to ask for reasons. -However, this particular bit is too ridiculous even for George. Owing to -Mr. Leslie having come to-day, we must use every room in the house: it is -intolerable having a stranger here, and you are the only relation staying -with us. I pointed all that out to George, and he agreed that, under the -circumstances, it would be absurd not to put you here.” - -“I am quite agreeable,” I answered; “and, indeed, I think I am rather -favored in having a room where the last recorded death appears to have -taken place a hundred and fifty years ago, particularly as I should think -that there can be scarcely anything now left in it which was here then, -except, of course, the cabinet.” - -The room had, in fact, been entirely done up and refurnished by my uncle, -and was as bright and modern-looking an apartment as you could wish to -see. It was large, and the walls were covered with one of those white and -gold papers which were fashionable thirty years ago. Opposite us, as we -stood warming our backs before the fire, was the bed—a large double one, -hung with a pretty shade of pale blue. Material of the same color covered -the comfortable modern furniture, and hung from gilded cornices before -the two windows which pierced the side of the room on our left. Between -them stood the toilet-table, all muslin, blue ribbons, and silver. The -carpet was a gray and blue Brussels one. The whole effect was cheerful, -though I fear inartistic, and sadly out of keeping with the character -of the house. The exception to these remarks was, as I had observed, -the famous closed cabinet, to which I have more than once alluded. It -stood against the same wall of the room as that in which the fireplace -was, and on our right—that is, on that side of the fireplace which was -farthest from the windows. As I spoke, I turned to go and look at it -and Lucy followed me. Many an hour as a child had I passed in front of -it, fingering the seven carved brass handles, or rather buttons, which -were ranged down its center. They all slid, twisted, or screwed with the -greatest ease, and apparently like many another ingeniously contrived -lock; but neither I nor any one else had ever yet succeeded in sliding, -twisting, or screwing them after such a fashion as to open the closed -doors of the cabinet. No one yet had robbed them of their secret since -first it was placed there three hundred years ago by the old lady and -her faithful Italian. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, was this -tantalizing cabinet. Carved out of some dark foreign wood, the doors and -panels were richly inlaid with lapis-lazuli, ivory, and mother-of-pearl, -among which were twisted delicately chased threads of gold and silver. -Above the doors, between them and the cornice, lay another mystery, fully -as tormenting as was the first. In a smooth strip of wood about an inch -wide, and extending along the whole breadth of the cabinet, was inlaid -a fine pattern in gold wire. This at first sight seemed to consist of a -legend or motto. On looking closer, however, though the pattern still -looked as if it was formed out of characters of the alphabet curiously -entwined together, you found yourself unable to fix upon any definite -word, or even letter. You looked again and again, and the longer that you -looked the more certain became your belief that you were on the verge of -discovery. If you could approach the mysterious legend from a slightly -different point of view, or look at it from another distance, the clew -to the puzzle would be seized, and the words would stand forth clear and -legible in your sight. But the clew never had been discovered, and the -motto, if there was one, remained unread. - -For a few minutes we stood looking at the cabinet in silence, and then -Lucy gave a discontented little sigh. “There’s another tiresome piece of -superstition,” she exclaimed; “by far the handsomest piece of furniture -in the house stuck away here in a bedroom which is hardly ever used. -Again and again have I asked George to let me have it moved downstairs, -but he won’t hear of it.” - -“Was it not placed here by Dame Alice herself?” I inquired a little -reproachfully, for I felt that Lucy was not treating the cabinet with the -respect which it really deserved. - -“Yes, so they say,” she answered; and the tone of light contempt in -which she spoke was now pierced by a not unnatural pride in the romantic -mysteries of her husband’s family. “She placed it here, and it is said, -you know, that when the closed cabinet is opened, and the mysterious -motto is read, the curse will depart from the Mervyn family.” - -“But why don’t they break it open?” I asked, impatiently. “I am sure that -I would never have remained all my life in a house with a thing like -that, and not found out in some way or another what was inside it.” - -“Oh, but that would be quite fatal,” answered she. “The curse can only be -removed when the cabinet is opened as Dame Alice intended it to be, in an -orthodox fashion. If you were to force it open, that could never happen, -and the curse would therefore remain forever.” - -“And what is the curse?” I asked, with very different feelings to those -with which I had timidly approached the same subject with Alan. Lucy was -not a Mervyn, and not a person to inspire awe under any circumstances. My -instincts were right again, for she turned away with a slight shrug of -her shoulders. - -“I have no idea,” she said. “George and Alan always look portentously -solemn and gloomy whenever one mentions the subject, so I don’t. If you -ask me for the truth, I believe it to be a pure invention, devised by -the Mervyns for the purpose of delicately accounting for some of the -disreputable actions of their ancestors. For you know, Evie,” she added, -with a little laugh, “the less said about the character of the family -into which your aunt and I have married the better.” - -The remark made me angry, I don’t know why, and I answered stiffly, that -as far as I was acquainted with them, I at least saw nothing to complain -of. - -“Oh, as regards the present generation, no,—except for that poor, -wretched Jack,” acquiesced Lucy, with her usual imperturbable good-humor. - -“And as regards the next?” I suggested, smiling, and already ashamed of -my little temper. - -“The next is perfect, of course,—poor dear boys.” She sighed as she -spoke, and I wondered whether she was really as unconscious as she -generally appeared to be of the strange dissatisfaction with which her -husband seemed to regard his children. Anyhow the mention of them had -evidently changed her mood, and almost directly afterwards, with the -remark that she must go and look after her guests, who had all arrived by -now, she left me to myself. - -For some minutes I sat by the bright fire, lost in aimless, wandering -thought, which began with Dame Alice and her cabinet, and which ended -somehow with Alan’s face, as I had last seen it looking up at me in -front of the hall-door. When I had reached that point, I roused myself -to decide that I had dreamt long enough, and that it was quite time to -go down to the guests and to tea. I accordingly donned my best teagown, -arranged my hair, and proceeded towards the drawing-room. My way there -lay through the great central hall. This apartment was approached from -most of the bedrooms in the house through a large, arched doorway at -one end of it, which communicated directly with the great staircase. My -bedroom, however, which, as I have said, lay among the private apartments -of the house, opened into a passage which led into a broad gallery, -or upper chamber, stretching right across the end of the hall. From -this you descended by means of a small staircase in oak, whose carved -balustrade, bending round the corner of the hall, formed one of the -prettiest features of the picturesque old room. The barrier which ran -along the front of the gallery was in solid oak, and of such a height -that, unless standing close up to it, you could neither see nor be seen -by the occupants of the room below. On approaching this gallery I heard -voices in the hall. They were George’s and Alan’s, evidently in hot -discussion. As I issued from the passage, George was speaking, and his -voice had that exasperated tone in which an angry man tries to bring to -a close an argument in which he has lost his temper. “For heaven’s sake -leave it alone, Alan; I neither can nor will interfere. We have enough -to bear from these cursed traditions as it is, without adding one which -has no foundation whatever to justify it—a mere contemptible piece of -superstition.” - -“No member of our family has a right to call any tradition contemptible -which is connected with that place, and you know it,” answered Alan; and -though he spoke low, his voice trembled with some strong emotion. A first -impulse of hesitation which I had had I checked, feeling that as I had -heard so much it was fairer to go on, and I advanced to the top of the -staircase. Alan stood by the fireplace facing me, but far too occupied -to see me. His last speech had seemingly aroused George to fury, for the -latter turned on him now with savage passion. - -“Damn it all, Alan!” he cried, “can’t you be quiet? I will be master in -my own house. Take care, I tell you; the curse may not be quite fulfilled -yet after all.” - -As George uttered these words, Alan lifted his eyes to him with a glance -of awful horror: his face turned ghastly white; his lips trembled for a -moment; and then he answered back with one half-whispered word of supreme -appeal—“George!” There was a long-drawn, unutterable anguish in his tone, -and his voice, though scarcely audible, penetrated to every corner of the -room, and seemed to hang quivering in the air around one after the sound -had ceased. Then there was a terrible stillness. Alan stood trembling in -every limb, incapable apparently of speech or action, and George faced -him, as silent and motionless as he was. For an instant they remained -thus, while I looked breathlessly on. Then George, with a muttered -imprecation, turned on his heel and left the room. Alan followed him -as he went with dull lifeless eyes; and as the door closed he breathed -deeply, with a breath that was almost a groan. - -Taking my courage in both hands, I now descended the stairs, and at the -sound of my footfall he glanced up, startled, and then came rapidly to -meet me. - -“Evie! you here,” he said; “I did not notice you. How long have you been -here?” He was still quite white, and I noticed that he panted for breath -as he spoke. - -“Not long,” I answered, timidly, and rather spasmodically; “I only heard -a sentence or two. You wanted George to do something about some tradition -or other,—and he was angry,—and he said something about the curse.” - -While I spoke Alan kept his eyes fixed on mine, reading through them, -as I knew, into my mind. When I had finished he turned his gaze away -satisfied, and answered very quietly, “Yes, that was it.” Then he went -back to the fireplace, rested his arm against the high mantelpiece above -it, and leaning his forehead on his arm, remained silently looking into -the fire. I could see by his bent brow and compressed lips that he was -engaged upon some earnest train of thought or reasoning, and I stood -waiting—worried, puzzled, curious but above all things, pitiful, and oh! -longing so intensely to help him if I could. Presently he straightened -himself a little, and addressed me more in his ordinary tone of voice, -though without looking round. “So I hear they have changed your room.” - -“Yes,” I answered. And then, flushing rather, “Is that what you and -George have been quarreling about?” I received no reply, and taking this -silence for assent, I went on deprecatingly, “Because you know, if it -was, I think you are rather foolish, Alan. As I understand, two girls are -said to have died in that room more than a hundred years ago, and for -that reason there is a prejudice against putting a girl to sleep there. -That is all. Merely a vague, unreasonable tradition.” - -Alan took a moment to answer. - -“Yes,” he said at length, speaking slowly, and as if replying to -arguments in his own mind as much as to those which I had uttered. “Yes, -it is nothing but a tradition after all, and that of the very vaguest and -most unsupported kind.” - -“Is there even any proof that girls have not slept there since those two -died?” I asked. I think that the suggestion conveyed in this question was -a relief to him, for after a moment’s pause, as if to search his memory, -he turned round. - -“No,” he answered, “I don’t think that there is any such proof; and I -have no doubt that you are right, and that it is a mere prejudice that -makes me dislike your sleeping there.” - -“Then,” I said, with a little assumption of sisterly superiority, “I -think George was right, and that you were wrong.” - -Alan smiled,—a smile which sat oddly on the still pale face, and in the -wearied, worn-looking eyes. “Very likely,” he said; “I daresay that I -am superstitious. I have had things to make me so.” Then coming nearer -to me, and laying his hands on my shoulders, he went on, smiling more -brightly, “We are a queer-tempered, bad-nerved race, we Mervyns, and you -must not take us too seriously, Evie. The best thing that you can do with -our odd ways is to ignore them.” - -“Oh, I don’t mind,” I answered, laughing, too glad to have won him back -to even temporary brightness, “as long as you and George don’t come -to blows over the question of where I am to sleep; which after all is -chiefly my concern,—and Lucy’s.” - -“Well, perhaps it is,” he replied, in the same tone; “and now be off to -the drawing-room, where Lucy is defending the tea-table single-handed all -this time.” - -I obeyed, and should have gone more cheerfully had I not turned at the -doorway to look back at him, and caught one glimpse of his face as he -sank heavily down into the large arm-chair by the fireside. - -However, by dinner-time he appeared to have dismissed all painful -reflections from his mind, or to have buried them too deep for discovery. -The people staying in the house were, in spite of my sense of grievance -at their arrival, individually pleasant, and after dinner I discovered -them to be socially well assorted. For the first hour or two, indeed, -after their arrival, each glared at the other across those triple -lines of moral fortification behind which every well-bred Briton takes -refuge on appearing at a friend’s country-house. But flags of truce -were interchanged over the soup, an armistice was agreed upon during -the roast, and the terms of a treaty of peace and amity were finally -ratified under the sympathetic influence of George’s best champagne. For -the achievement of this happy result Alan certainly worked hard, and -received therefor many a grateful glance from his sister-in-law. He was -more excited than I had ever seen him before, and talked brilliantly -and well—though perhaps not as exclusively to his neighbors as they may -have wished. His eyes and his attention seemed everywhere at once: one -moment he was throwing remarks across to some despairing couple opposite, -and the next he was breaking an embarrassing pause in the conversation -by some rapid sally of nonsense addressed to the table in general. He -formed a great contrast to his brother, who sat gloomy and dejected, -making little or no response to the advances of the two dowagers between -whom he was placed. After dinner the younger members of the party spent -the evening by Alan’s initiative, and chiefly under his direction, in a -series of lively and rather riotous games such as my nursery days had -delighted in, and my schoolroom ones had disdained. It was a great and -happy surprise to discover that, grown up, I might again enjoy them. I -did so, hugely, and when bedtime came all memories more serious than -those of “musical chairs” or “follow my leader” had vanished from my -mind. I think, from Alan’s glance as he handed me my bed candle, that the -pleasure and excitement must have improved my looks. - -“I hope you have enjoyed your first evening of gayety, Evie,” he said. - -“I have,” I answered, with happy conviction; “and really I believe that -it is chiefly owing to you, Alan.” He met my smile by another; but I -think that there must have been something in his look which recalled -other thoughts, for as I started up the stairs I threw a mischievous -glance back at him and whispered, “Now for the horrors of the haunted -chamber.” - -He laughed rather loudly, and saying “Good-night, and good-luck,” turned -to attend to the other ladies. - -His wishes were certainly fulfilled. I got to bed quickly, and—as soon -as my happy excitement was sufficiently calmed to admit of it—to sleep. -The only thing which disturbed me was the wind, which blew fiercely and -loudly all the earlier portion of the night, half arousing me more than -once. I spoke of it at breakfast the next morning; but the rest of the -world seemed to have slept too heavily to have been aware of it. - - -_IV._ - -The men went out shooting directly after breakfast, and we women passed -the day in orthodox country-house fashion,—working and eating; walking -and riding; driving and playing croquet; and above, beyond, and through -all things, chattering. Beyond a passing sigh while I was washing my -hands, or a moment of mournful remembrance while I changed my dress, I -had scarcely time even to regret the quiet happiness of the week that -was past. In the evening we danced in the great hall. I had two valses -with Alan. During a pause for breath, I found that we were standing -near the fireplace, on the very spot where he and George had stood on -the previous afternoon. The recollection made me involuntarily glance -up at his face. It looked sad and worried, and the thought suddenly -struck me that his extravagant spirits of the night before, and even his -quieter, careful cheerfulness of to-night, had been but artificial moods -at best. He turned, and finding my eyes fixed on him, at once plunged -into conversation, discussed the peculiarities of one of the guests, -good-humoredly enough, but with so much fun as to make me laugh in spite -of myself. Then we danced again. The plaintive music, the smooth floor, -and the partner were all alike perfect, and I experienced that entire -delight of physical enjoyment which I believe nothing but a valse under -such circumstances can give. When it was over I turned to Alan, and -exclaimed with impulsive appeal, “Oh, I am so happy,—you must be happy -too!” He smiled rather uncertainly, and answered, “Don’t bother yourself -about me, Evie, I am all right. I told you that we Mervyns had bad -nerves; and I am rather tired. That’s all.” I was passionately determined -just then upon happiness, and his was too necessary to mine for me not to -believe that he was speaking the truth. - -We kept up the dancing till Lucy discovered with a shock that midnight -had struck, and that Sunday had begun, and we were all sent off to bed. I -was not long in making my nightly preparations, and had scarcely inserted -myself between the sheets when, with a few long moans, the wind began -again, more violently even than the night before. It had been a calm, -fine day, and I made wise reflections as I listened upon the uncertainty -of the north-country climate. What a tempest it was! How it moaned, and -howled, and shrieked! Where had I heard the superstition which now came -to my mind, that borne upon the wind come the spirits of the drowned, -wailing and crying for the sepulture which had been denied them? But -there were other sounds in that wind, too. Evil, murderous thoughts, -perhaps, which had never taken body in deeds, but which, caught up in -the air, now hurled themselves in impotent fury through the world. How I -wished the wind would stop. It seemed full of horrible fancies, and it -kept knocking them into my head, and it wouldn’t leave off. Fancies, or -memories—which?—and my mind reverted with a flash to the fearful thoughts -which had haunted it the day before in Dame Alice’s tower. It was dark -now. Those ghastly intangible shapes must have taken full form and color, -peopling the old ruin with their ageless hideousness. And the storm had -found them there and borne them along with it as it blew through the -creviced walls. That was why the wind’s sound struck so strangely on my -brain. Ah! I could hear them now, those still living memories of dead -horror. Through the window crannies they came shrieking and wailing. -They filled the chimney with spirit sobs, and now they were pressing on, -crowding through the room,—eager, eager to reach their prey. Nearer they -came;—nearer still! They were round my bed now! Through my closed eyelids -I could almost see their dreadful shapes; in all my quivering flesh I -felt their terrors as they bent over me,—lower, lower.... - -With a start I aroused myself and sat up. Was I asleep or awake? I was -trembling all over still, and it required the greatest effort of courage -I had ever made to enable me to spring from my bed and strike a light. -What a state my nerves or my digestion must be in! From my childhood -the wind had always affected me strangely, and I blamed myself now for -allowing my imagination to run away with me at the first. I found a -novel which I had brought up to my room with me, one of the modern, -Chinese-American school, where human nature is analyzed with the patient, -industrious indifference of the true Celestial. I took the book to bed -with me, and soon under its soothing influences fell asleep. I dreamt a -good deal,—nightmares, the definite recollection of which, as is so often -the case, vanished from my mind as soon as I awoke, leaving only a vague -impression of horror. They had been connected with the wind, of that -alone I was conscious, and I went down to breakfast, maliciously hoping -that others’ rest had been as much disturbed as my own. - -To my surprise, however, I found that I had again been the only sufferer. -Indeed, so impressed were most of the party with the quiet in which -their night had been passed, that they boldly declared my storm to have -been the creature of my dreams. There is nothing more annoying when -you feel yourself aggrieved by fate than to be told that your troubles -have originated in your own fancy; so I dropped the subject. Though the -discussion spread for a few minutes round the whole table, Alan took -no part in it. Neither did George, except for what I thought a rather -unnecessarily rough expression of his disbelief in the cause of my -night’s disturbance. As we rose from breakfast I saw Alan glance towards -his brother, and make a movement, evidently with the purpose of speaking -to him. Whether or not George was aware of the look or action, I cannot -say; but at the same moment he made rapidly across the room to where -one of his principal guests was standing, and at once engaged him in -conversation. So earnestly and so volubly was he borne on, that they were -still talking together when we ladies appeared again some minutes later, -prepared for our walk to church. That was not the only occasion during -the day on which I witnessed as I thought the same by-play going on. -Again and again Alan appeared to be making efforts to engage George in -private conversation, and again and again the latter successfully eluded -him. - -The church was about a mile away from the house, and as Lucy did not -like having the carriages out on a Sunday, one service a week as a rule -contented the household. In the afternoon we took the usual Sunday walk. -On returning from it, I had just taken off my outdoor things, and was -issuing from my bedroom, when I found myself face to face with Alan. -He was coming out of George’s study, and had succeeded apparently in -obtaining that interview for which he had been all day seeking. One -glance at his face told me what its nature had been. We paused opposite -each other for a moment, and he looked at me earnestly. - -“Are you going to church?” he inquired at last, abruptly. - -“No,” I answered, with some surprise. “I did not know that any one was -going this evening.” - -“Will you come with me?” - -“Yes, certainly; if you don’t mind waiting a moment for me to put my -things on.” - -“There’s plenty of time,” he answered; “meet me in the hall.” - -A few minutes later we started. - -It was a calm, cloudless night, and although the moon was not yet -half-full, and already past her meridian, she filled the clear air with -gentle light. Not a word broke our silence. Alan walked hurriedly, -looking straight before him, his head upright, his lips twitching -nervously, while every now and then a half-uttered moan escaped -unconsciously from between them. At last I could bear it no longer, and -burst forth with the first remark which occurred to me. We were passing -a big black, queer-shaped stone standing in rather a lonely uncultivated -spot at one end of the garden. It was an old acquaintance of my -childhood; but my thoughts had been turned towards it now from the fact -that I could see it from my bedroom window, and had been struck afresh by -its uncouth, incongruous appearance. - -“Isn’t there some story connected with that stone?” I asked. “I remember -that we always called it the Dead Stone as children.” - -Alan cast a quick, sidelong glance in that direction, and his brows -contracted in an irritable frown. “I don’t know,” he answered shortly; -“they say that there is a woman buried beneath it, I believe.” - -“A woman buried there!” I exclaimed in surprise; “but who?” - -“How should I know? They know nothing whatever about it. The place is -full of stupid traditions of that kind.” Then, looking suspiciously round -at me, “Why do you ask?” - -“I don’t know; it was just something to say,” I answered plaintively. His -strange mood so worked upon my nerves, that it was all that I could do -to restrain my tears. I think that my tone struck his conscience, for he -made a few feverish attempts at conversation after that. But they were so -entirely abortive that he soon abandoned the effort, and we finished our -walk to church as speechlessly as we had begun it. - -The service was bright, and the sermon perhaps a little commonplace, -but sensible as it seemed to me in matter, and adequate in style. The -peaceful evening hymn which followed, the short solemn pause of silence -prayer at the end, soothed and refreshed my spirit. A hasty glance at -my companion’s face as he stood waiting for me in the porch, with the -full light from the church streaming round him, assured me that the same -influence had touched him too. Haggard and sad he still looked, it is -true; but his features were composed, and the expression of actual pain -had left his eyes. - -Silent as we had come we started homeward through the waning moonlight, -but this silence was of a very different nature to the other, and after a -minute or two I did not hesitate to break it. - -“It was a good sermon?” I observed interrogatively. - -“Yes,” he assented, “I suppose you would call it so; but I confess that I -should have found the text more impressive without its exposition.” - -“Poor man!” - -“But don’t you often find it so?” he asked. “Do you not often wish, to -take this evening’s instance, that clergymen would infuse themselves -with something of St. Paul’s own spirit? Then perhaps they would not -water all the strength out of his words in their efforts to explain them.” - -“That is rather a large demand to make upon them, is it not?” - -“Is it?” he questioned. “I don’t ask them to be inspired saints. I don’t -expect St. Paul’s breadth and depth of thought. But could they not have -something of his vigorous completeness, something of the intensity of his -feeling and belief? Look at the text of to-night. Did not the preacher’s -examples and applications take something from its awful unqualified -strength?” - -“Awful!” I exclaimed, in surprise; “that is hardly the expression I -should have used in connection with those words.” - -“Why not?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. The text is very beautiful, of course, and at times, -when people are tiresome and one ought to be nice to them, it is very -difficult to act up to. But——” - -“But you think that ‘awful’ is rather a big adjective to use for so small -a duty,” interposed Alan, and the moonlight showed the flicker of a smile -upon his face. Then he continued, gravely, “I doubt whether you yourself -realize the full import of the words. The precept of charity is not -merely a code of rules by which to order our conduct to our neighbors; -it is the picture of a spiritual condition, and such, where it exists -in us, must by its very nature be roused into activity by anything that -affects us. So with this particular injunction, every circumstance in our -lives is a challenge to it, and in presence of all alike it admits of one -attitude only: ‘Beareth all things, endureth all things.’ I hope it will -be long before that ‘all’ sticks in your gizzard, Evie,—before you come -face to face with things which nature cannot bear, and yet which must be -borne.” - -He stopped, his voice quivering; and then after a pause went on again -more calmly, “And throughout it is the same. Moral precepts everywhere, -which will admit of no compromise, no limitation, and yet which are -at war with our strongest passions. If one could only interpose some -‘unless,’ some ‘except,’ even an ‘until,’ which should be short of the -grave. But we cannot. The law is infinite, universal, eternal; there is -no escape, no repose. Resist, strive, endure, that is the recurring cry; -that is existence.” - -“And peace,” I exclaimed, appealingly. “Where is there room for peace, if -that be true?” - -He sighed for answer, and then in a changed and lower tone added, -“However thickly the clouds mass, however vainly we search for a -coming glimmer in their midst, we never doubt that the sky is still -beyond—beyond and around us, infinite and infinitely restful.” - -He raised his eyes as he spoke, and mine followed his. We had entered -the wooded glen. Through the scanty autumn foliage we could see the -stars shining faintly in the dim moonlight, and beyond them the deep -illimitable blue. A dark world it looked, distant and mysterious, and my -young spirit rebelled at the consolation offered me. - -“Peace seems a long way off,” I whispered. - -“It is for me,” he answered, gently; “not necessarily for you.” - -“Oh, but I am worse and weaker than you are. If life is to be all -warfare, I must be beaten. I cannot always be fighting.” - -“Cannot you? Evie, what I have been saying is true of every moral law -worth having, of every ideal of life worth striving after, that men have -yet conceived. But it is only half the truth of Christianity. You know -that. We must strive, for the promise is to him that overcometh; but -though our aim be even higher than is that of others, we cannot in the -end fail to reach it. The victory of the Cross is ours. You know that? -You believe that?” - -“Yes,” I answered, softly, too surprised to say more. In speaking -of religion he, as a rule, showed to the full the reserve which is -characteristic of his class and country, and this sudden outburst was in -itself astonishing; but the eager anxiety with which he emphasized the -last words of appeal impressed and bewildered me still further. We walked -on for some minutes in silence. Then suddenly Alan stopped, and turning, -took my hand in his. In what direction his mind had been working in the -interval I could not divine; but the moment he began to speak I felt that -he was now for the first time giving utterance to what had been really -at the bottom of his thoughts the whole evening. Even in that dim light -I could see the anxious look upon his face, and his voice shook with -restrained emotion. - -“Evie,” he said, “have you ever thought of the world in which our spirits -dwell, as our bodies do in this one of matter and sense, and of how it -may be peopled? I know,” he went on hurriedly, “that it is the fashion -nowadays to laugh at such ideas. I envy those who have never had cause to -be convinced of their reality, and I hope that you may long remain among -the number. But should that not be so, should those unseen influences -ever touch your life, I want you to remember then, that, as one of the -race for whom Christ died, you have as high a citizenship in that spirit -land as any creature there: that you are your own soul’s warden, and that -neither principalities nor powers can rob you of that your birthright.” - -I think my face must have shown my bewilderment, for he dropped my hand, -and walked on with an impatient sigh. - -“You don’t understand me. Why should you? I daresay that I am talking -nonsense—only—only——” - -His voice expressed such an agony of doubt and hesitation that I burst -out— - -“I think that I do understand you a little, Alan. You mean that even from -unearthly enemies there is nothing that we need really fear—at least, -that is, I suppose, nothing worse than death. But that is surely enough!” - -“Why should you fear death?” he said, abruptly; “your soul will live.” - -“Yes, I know that, but still——” I stopped with a shudder. - -“What is life after all but one long death?” he went on, with sudden -violence. “Our pleasures, our hopes, our youth are all dying; ambition -dies, and even desire at last; our passions and tastes will die, or will -live only to mourn their dead opportunity. The happiness of love dies -with the loss of the loved, and, worst of all, love itself grows old in -our hearts and dies. Why should we shrink only from the one death which -can free us from all the others?” - -“It is not true, Alan!” I cried, hotly. “What you say is not true. There -are many things even here which are living and shall live; and if it were -otherwise, in everything, life that ends in death is better than no life -at all.” - -“You say that,” he answered, “because for you these things are yet -living. To leave life now, therefore, while it is full and sweet, -untainted by death, surely that is not a fate to fear. Better, a thousand -times better, to see the cord cut with one blow while it is still whole -and strong, and to launch out straight into the great ocean, than to -sit watching through the slow years, while strand after strand, thread -by thread, loosens and unwinds itself—each with its own separate pang -breaking, bringing the bitterness of death without its release.” - -His manner, the despairing ring in his voice, alarmed me even more than -his words. Clinging to his arm with both hands, while the tears sprang to -my eyes— - -“Alan,” I cried, “don’t say such things,—don’t talk like that. You are -making me miserable.” - -He stopped short at my words, with bent head, his features hidden in the -shadow thus cast upon them,—nothing in his motionless form to show what -was passing within him. Then he looked up, and turned his face to the -moonlight and to me, laying his hand on one of mine. - -“Don’t be afraid,” he said; “it is all right, my little David. You have -driven the evil spirit away.” And lifting my hand, he pressed it gently -to his lips. Then drawing it within his arms, he went on, as he walked -forward, “And even when it was on me at its worst, I was not meditating -suicide, as I think you imagine. I am a very average specimen of -humanity,—neither brave enough to defy the possibilities of eternity nor -cowardly enough to shirk those of time. No, I was only trying idiotically -to persuade a girl of eighteen that life was not worth living; and more -futilely still, myself, that I did not wish her to live. I am afraid that -in my mind philosophy and fact have but small connection with each other; -and though my theorizing for your welfare may be true enough, yet,—I -cannot help it, Evie,—it would go terribly hard with me if anything were -to happen to you.” - -His voice trembled as he finished. My fear had gone with his return to -his natural manner, but my bewilderment remained. - -“Why _should_ there anything happen to me?” I asked. - -“That is just it,” he answered, after a pause, looking straight in front -of him and drawing his hand wearily over his brow. “I know of no reason -why there should.” Then giving a sigh, as if finally to dismiss from his -mind a worrying subject—“I have acted for the best,” he said, “and may -God forgive me if I have done wrong.” - -There was a little silence after that, and then he began to talk again, -steadily and quietly. The subject was deep enough still, as deep as -any that we had touched upon, but both voice and sentiment were calm, -bringing peace to my spirit, and soon making me forget the wonder and -fear of a few moments before. Very openly did he talk as we passed on -across the long trunk shadows and through the glades of silver light; and -I saw farther then into the most sacred recesses of his soul than I have -ever done before or since. - -When we reached home the moon had already set; but some of her beams -seemed to have been left behind within my heart, so pure and peaceful was -the light which filled it. - -The same feeling continued with me all through that evening. After -dinner some of the party played and sang. As it was Sunday, and Lucy was -rigid in her views, the music was of a sacred character. I sat in a low -arm-chair in a dark corner of the room, my mind too dreamy to think, and -too passive to dream. I hardly interchanged three words with Alan, who -remained in a still darker spot, invisible and silent the whole time. -Only as we left the room to go to bed, I heard Lucy ask him if he had a -headache. I did not hear his answer, and before I could see his face he -had turned back again into the drawing-room. - - -_V._ - -It was early, and when first I got to my room I felt little inclined for -sleep. I wandered to the window, and drawing aside the curtains, looked -out upon the still, starlit sky. At least I should rest quiet to-night. -The air was very clear, and the sky seemed full of stars. As I stood -there scraps of schoolroom learning came back to my mind. That the stars -were all suns, surrounded perhaps in their turn by worlds as large or -larger than our own. Worlds beyond worlds, and others farther still, -which no man might number or even descry. And about the distance of those -wonderful suns too,—that one, for instance, at which I was looking,—what -was it that I had been told? That our world was not yet peopled, perhaps -not yet formed, when the actual spot of light which now struck my sight -first started from the star’s surface! While it flashed along, itself the -very symbol of speed, the whole of mankind had had time to be born, and -live, and die! - -My gaze dropped, and fell upon the dim, half-seen outline of the Dead -Stone. That woman too. While that one ray speeded towards me her life -had been lived and ended, and her body had rotted away into the ground. -How close together we all were! Her life and mine; our joys, sufferings, -deaths—all crowded together into the space of one flash of light! And yet -there was nothing there but a horrible skeleton of dead bones, while I——! - -I stopped with a shudder, and turned back into the room. I wished that -Alan had not told me what lay under the stone; I wished that I had never -asked him. It was a ghastly thing to think about, and spoilt all the -beauty of the night to me. - -I got quickly into bed, and soon dropped asleep. I do not know how long -I slept; but when I woke it was with the consciousness again of that -haunting wind. - -It was worse than ever. The world seemed filled with its din. Hurling -itself passionately against the house, it gathered strength with every -gust, till it seemed as if the old walls must soon crash in ruins round -me. Gust upon gust; blow upon blow; swelling, lessening, never ceasing. -The noise surrounded me; it penetrated my inmost being, as all-pervading -as silence itself, and wrapping me in a solitude even more complete. -There was nothing left in the world but the wind and I, and then a weird -intangible doubt as to my own identity seized me. The wind was real, the -wind with its echoes of passion and misery from the eternal abyss; but -was there anything else? What was, and what had been, the world of sense -and of knowledge, my own consciousness, my very self—all seemed gathered -up and swept away in that one sole-existent fury of sound. - -I pulled myself together, and getting out of bed, groped my way to the -table which stood between the bed and the fireplace. The matches were -there, and my half-burnt candle, which I lit. The wind penetrating the -rattling casement circled round the room, and the flame of my candle -bent and flared and shrank before it, throwing strange moving lights and -shadows in every corner. I stood there shivering in my thin nightdress, -half stunned by the cataract of noise beating on the walls outside, and -peered anxiously around me. The room was not the same. Something was -changed. What was it? How the shadows leaped and fell, dancing in time to -the wind’s music. Everything seemed alive. I turned my head slowly to -the left, and then to the right, and then round—and stopped with a sudden -gasp of fear. - -The cabinet was open! - -I looked away, and back, and again. There was no room for doubt. The -doors were thrown back, and were waving gently in the draught. One of the -lower drawers was pulled out, and in a sudden flare of the candle-light -I could see something glistening at its bottom. Then the light dwindled -again, the candle was almost out, and the cabinet showed a dim black -mass in the darkness. Up and down went the flame, and each returning -brightness flashed back at me from the thing inside the drawer. I stood -fascinated, my eyes fixed upon the spot, waiting for the fitful glitter -as it came and went. What was there? I knew that I must go and see, but I -did not want to. If only the cabinet would close again before I looked, -before I knew what was inside it. But it stood open, and the glittering -thing lay there, dragging me towards itself. - -Slowly at last, and with infinite reluctance, I went. The drawer was -lined with soft white satin, and upon the satin lay a long, slender -knife, hilted and sheathed in antique silver, richly set with jewels. I -took it up and turned back to the table to examine it. It was Italian -in workmanship, and I knew that the carving and chasing of the silver -were more precious even than the jewels which studded it, and whose -rough setting gave so firm a grasp to my hand. Was the blade as fair as -the covering, I wondered? A little resistance at first, and then the -long thin steel slid easily out. Sharp, and bright, and finely tempered -it looked with its deadly, tapering point. Stains, dull and irregular, -crossed the fine engraving on its surface and dimmed its polish. I bent -to examine them more closely, and as I did so a sudden stronger gust -of wind blew out the candle. I shuddered a little at the darkness and -looked up. But it did not matter: the curtain was still drawn away from -the window opposite my bedside, and through it a flood of moonlight was -pouring in upon floor and bed. - -Putting the sheath down upon the table, I walked to the window to examine -the knife more closely by that pale light. How gloriously brilliant it -was, darkened now and again by the quickly passing shadows of wind-driven -clouds! At least so I thought, and I glanced up and out of the window -to see them. A black world met my gaze. Neither moon was there nor -moonlight. The broad silver beam in which I stood stretched no farther -than the window. I caught my breath, my limbs stiffened as I looked. No -moon, no cloud, no movement in the clear, calm starlit sky; while still -the ghastly light stretched round me, and the spectral shadows drifted -across the room. - -But it was not all dark outside. One spot caught my eye, bright with a -livid unearthly brightness—the Dead Stone shining out into the night -like an ember from hell’s furnace! There was a horrid semblance of life -in the light—a palpitating, breathing glow—and my pulses beat in time to -it, till I seemed to be drawing it into my veins. It had no warmth, and -as it entered my blood my heart grew colder, and my muscles more rigid. -My fingers clutched the dagger-hilt till its jeweled roughness pressed -painfully into my palm. All the strength of my strained powers seemed -gathered in that grasp, and the more tightly I held the more vividly did -the rock gleam and quiver with infernal life. The dead woman! The dead -woman! What had I to do with her? Let her bones rest in the filth of -their own decay, out there under the accursed stone. - -And now the noise of the wind lessens in my ears. Let it go on—yes, -louder and wilder, drowning my senses in its tumult. What is there with -me in the room—the great empty room behind me? Nothing; only the cabinet -with its waving doors. They are waving to and fro, to and fro—I know it. -But there is no other life in the room but that—no, no; no other life in -the room but that. - -Oh! don’t let the wind stop. I can’t hear anything while it goes on—but -if it stops! Ah! the gusts grow weaker, struggling, forced into rest. -Now—now—they have ceased. - -Silence! - -A fearful pause. - -What is that I hear? There, behind me in the room? - -Do I hear it? Is there anything? - -The throbbing of my own blood in my ears. - -No, no! There is something as well—something outside myself. - -What is it? - -Low; heavy; regular. - -God! it is—it is the breath of a living creature! A living creature -here—close to me—alone with me! - -The numbness of terror conquers me. I can neither stir nor speak. Only my -whole soul strains at my ears to listen. - -Where does the sound come from? - -Close behind me—close. - -Ah-h! - -It is from there—from the bed where I was lying a moment ago!... - -I try to shriek, but the sound gurgles unuttered in my throat. I clutch -the stone mullions of the window, and press myself against the panes. If -I could but throw myself out—anywhere, anywhere—away from that dreadful -sound—from that thing close behind me in the bed! But I can do nothing. -The wind has broken forth again now; the storm crashes round me. And -still through it all I hear the ghastly breathing—even, low, scarcely -audible—but I hear it. I shall hear it as long as I live!... - -Is the thing moving? - -Is it coming nearer? - -No, no; not that—that was but a fancy to freeze me dead. - -But to stand here, with that creature behind me, listening, waiting for -the warm horror of its breath to touch my neck! Ah! I cannot. I will -look. I will see it face to face. Better any agony than this one. - -Slowly, with held breath, and eyes aching in their stretched fixity, I -turn. There it is? Clear in the moonlight I see the monstrous form within -the bed—the dark coverlet rises and falls with its heaving breath.... Ah! -heaven have mercy! Is there none to help, none to save me from this awful -presence?... - -And the knife-hilt draws my fingers round it, while my flesh quivers, -and my soul grows sick with loathing. The wind howls, the shadows chase -through the room, hunting with fearful darkness more fearful light; and I -stand looking ... listening.... - - * * * * * - -I must not stand here forever; I must be up and doing. What a noise the -wind makes, and the rattling of the windows and the doors. If he sleeps -through this he will sleep through all. Noiselessly my bare feet tread -the carpet as I approach the bed; noiselessly my left arm raises the -heavy curtain. What does it hide? Do I not know? The bestial features, -half-hidden in coarse, black growth; the muddy, blotched skin, oozing -foulness at every pore. Oh, I know them too well! What a monster it is! -How the rank breath gurgles through his throat in his drunken sleep. The -eyes are closed now, but I know them too; their odious leer, and the -venomous hatred with which they can glare at me from their bloodshot -setting. But the time has come at last. Never again shall their passion -insult me, or their fury degrade me in slavish terror. There he lies; -there at my mercy, the man who for fifteen years has made God’s light -a shame to me, and His darkness a terror. The end has come at last—the -only end possible, the only end left me. On his head be the blood and the -crime! God almighty, I am not guilty! The end has come; I can bear my -burden no farther. - -“Beareth all things, endureth all things.” - -Where have I heard those words? They are in the Bible; the precept of -charity. What has that to do with me? Nothing. I heard the words in -my dreams somewhere. A white-faced man said them, a white-faced man -with pure eyes. To me—no, no, not to me; to a girl it was—an ignorant, -innocent girl, and she accepted them as an eternal, unqualified law. Let -her bear but half that I have borne, let her endure but one-tenth of what -I have endured, and then if she dare let her speak in judgment against me. - -Softly now; I must draw the heavy coverings away, and bare his breast -to the stroke—the stroke that shall free me. I know well where to plant -it; I have learned that from the old lady’s Italian. Did he guess why -I questioned him so closely of the surest, straightest road to a man’s -heart? No matter, he cannot hinder me now. Gently! Ah! I have disturbed -him. He moves, mutters in his sleep, throws out his arm. Down; down; -crouching behind the curtain. Heavens! if he wakes and sees me, he will -kill me! No, alas, if only he would. I would kiss the hand that he struck -me with; but he is too cruel for that. He will imagine some new and -more hellish torture to punish me with. But the knife! I have got that; -he shall never touch me living again.... He is quieter now. I hear his -breath, hoarse and heavy as a wild beast’s panting. He draws it more -evenly, more deeply. The danger is past. Thank God! - -God! What have I to do with Him? A God of Judgment. Ha, ha! Hell cannot -frighten me; it will not be worse than earth. Only he will be there too. -Not with him, not with him—send me to the lowest circle of torment, but -not with him. There, his breast is bare now. Is the knife sharp? Yes; and -the blade is strong enough. Now let me strike—myself afterwards if need -be, but him first. Is it the devil that prompts me? Then the devil is my -friend, and the friend of the world. No, God is a God of love. He cannot -wish such a man to live. He made him, but the devil spoilt him; and let -the devil have his handiwork back again. It has served him long enough -here; and its last service shall be to make me a murderess. - -How the moonlight gleams from the blade as my arm swings up and back: -with how close a grasp the rough hilt draws my fingers round it. Now. - -A murderess? - -Wait a moment. A moment may make me free; a moment may make me—that! - -Wait. Hand and dagger droop again. His life has dragged its slime over my -soul; shall his death poison it with a fouler corruption still? - -“My own soul’s warden.” - -What was that? Dream memories again. - -“Resist, strive, endure.” - -Easy words. What do they mean for me? To creep back now to bed by his -side, and to begin living again tomorrow the life which I have lived -today? No, no; I cannot do it. Heaven cannot ask it of me. And there is -no other way. That or this; this or that. Which shall it be? Ah! I have -striven, God knows. I have endured so long that I hoped even to do so -to the end. But today! Oh! the torment and the outrage: body and soul -still bear the stain of it. I thought that my heart and my pride were -dead together, but he has stung them again into aching, shameful life. -Yesterday I might have spared him, to save my own cold soul from sin; but -now it is cold no longer. It burns, it burns and the fire must be slaked. - -Ay, I will kill him, and have done with it. Why should I pause any -longer? The knife drags my hand back for the stroke. Only the dream -surrounds me; the pure man’s face is there, white, beseeching, and God’s -voice rings in my heart— - -“To him that overcometh.” - -But I cannot overcome. Evil has governed my life, and evil is stronger -than I am. What shall I do? What shall I do? God, if Thou art stronger -than evil, fight for me. - -“The victory of the Cross is ours.” - -Yes, I know it. It is true, it is true. But the knife? I cannot loose the -knife if I would. How to wrench it from my own hold? Thou God of Victory -be with me! Christ help me! - -I seize the blade with my left hand; the two-edged steel slides through -my grasp; a sharp pain in my fingers and palm; and then nothing.... - - -_VI._ - -When I again became conscious, I found myself half kneeling, half lying -across the bed, my arms stretched out in front of me, my face buried -in the clothes. Body and mind were alike numbed. A smarting pain in -my left hand, a dreadful terror in my heart, were at first the only -sensations of which I was aware. Slowly, very slowly, sense and memory -returned to me, and with them a more vivid intensity of mental anguish, -as detail by detail I recalled the weird horror of the night. Had it -really happened—was the thing still there—or was it all a ghastly -nightmare? It was some minutes before I dared either to move or look -up, and then fearfully I raised my head. Before me stretched the smooth -white coverlet, faintly bright with yellow sunshine. Weak and giddy, I -struggled to my feet, and, steadying myself against the foot of the bed, -with clenched teeth and bursting heart, forced my gaze round to the other -end. The pillow lay there, bare and unmarked save for what might well -have been the pressure of my own head. My breath came more freely, and I -turned to the window. The sun had just risen, the golden tree-tops were -touched with light, faint threads of mist hung here and there across the -sky, and the twittering of birds sounded clearly through the crisp autumn -air. - -It was nothing but a bad dream then, after all, this horror which still -hung round me, leaving me incapable of effort, almost of thought. I -remembered the cabinet, and looked swiftly in that direction. There it -stood, closed as usual, closed as it had been the evening before, as it -had been for the last three hundred years, except in my dreams. - -Yes, that was it; nothing but a dream—a gruesome, haunting dream. With -an instinct of wiping out the dreadful memory, I raised my hand wearily -to my forehead. As I did so, I became conscious again of how it hurt me. -I looked at it. It was covered with half-dried blood, and two straight -clean cuts appeared, one across the palm and one across the inside of the -fingers just below the knuckles. I looked again towards the bed, and, in -the place where my hand had rested during my faint, a small patch of red -blood was to be seen. - -Then it was true! Then it had all happened! With a low shuddering sob I -threw myself down upon the couch at the foot of the bed, and lay there -for some minutes, my limbs trembling, and my soul shrinking within me. -A mist of evil, fearful and loathsome, had descended upon my girlhood’s -life, sullying its ignorant innocence, saddening its brightness, as I -felt, forever. I lay there till my teeth began to chatter, and I realized -that I was bitterly cold. To return to that accursed bed was impossible, -so I pulled a rug which hung at one end of the sofa over me, and, utterly -worn out in mind and body, fell uneasily asleep. - -I was roused by the entrance of my maid. I stopped her exclamations and -questions by shortly stating that I had had a bad night, had been unable -to rest in bed, and had had an accident with my hand—without further -specifying of what description. - -“I didn’t know that you had been feeling unwell when you went to bed last -night, miss,” she said. - -“When I went to bed last night? Unwell? What do you mean?” - -“Only Mr. Alan has just asked me to let him know how you find yourself -this morning,” she answered. - -Then he expected something, dreaded something. Ah! why had he yielded and -allowed me to sleep here, I asked myself bitterly, as the incidents of -the day before flashed through my mind. - -“Tell him,” I said, “what I have told you; and say that I wish to speak -to him directly after breakfast.” I could not confide my story to any one -else, but speak of it I must to some one or go mad. - -Every moment passed in that place was an added misery. Much to my maid’s -surprise I said that I would dress in her room—the little one which, -as I have said, was close to my own. I felt better there; but my utter -fatigue and my wounded hand combined to make my toilet slow, and I -found that most of the party had finished breakfast when I reached the -dining room. I was glad of this, for even as it was I found it difficult -enough to give coherent answers to the questions which my white face and -bandaged hand called forth. Alan helped me by giving a resolute turn to -the conversation. Once only our eyes met across the table. He looked -as haggard and worn as I did. I learned afterwards that he had passed -most of that fearful night pacing the passage outside my door, though he -listened in vain for any indication of what was going on within the room. - -The moment I had finished breakfast he was by my side. “You wish to speak -to me now?” he asked in a low tone. - -“Yes; now,” I answered, breathlessly, and without raising my eyes from -the ground. - -“Where shall we go? Outside? It is a bright day, and we shall be freer -there from interruption.” - -I assented and then looking up at him appealingly, “Will you fetch my -things for me? I cannot go up to that room again.” - -He seemed to understand me, nodded, and was gone. A few minutes later we -left the house, and made our way in silence towards a grassy spot on -the side of the ravine where we had already indulged in more than one -friendly talk. - -As we went, the Dead Stone came for a moment into view. I seized Alan’s -arm in an almost convulsive grip. “Tell me,” I whispered—“you refused to -tell me yesterday, but you must know—who is buried beneath that rock?” - -There was now neither timidity nor embarrassment in my tone. The horrors -of that house had become part of my life forever, and their secrets were -mine by right. Alan, after a moment’s pause, a questioning glance at my -face, tacitly accepted the position. - -“I told you the truth,” he replied, “when I said that I did not know; but -I can tell you the popular tradition on the subject, if you like. They -say that Margaret Mervyn, the woman who murdered her husband, is buried -there, and that Dame Alice had the rock placed over her grave—whether to -save it from insult or to mark it out for opprobrium, I never heard. The -poor people about here do not care to go near the place after dark, and -among the older ones there are still some, I believe, who spit at the -suicide’s grave as they pass.” - -“Poor woman, poor woman!” I exclaimed, in a burst of uncontrollable -compassion. - -“Why should you pity her?” demanded he with sudden sternness; “she -was a suicide and a murderess too. It would be better for the public -conscience, I believe, if such were still hung in chains, or buried at -the cross-roads with a stake through their bodies.” - -“Hush, Alan, hush!” I cried hysterically, as I clung to him; “don’t speak -harshly of her. You do not know, you cannot tell, how terribly she was -tempted. How can you?” - -He looked down at me in bewildered surprise. “How can I?” he repeated. -“You speak as if you could. What do you mean?” - -“Don’t ask me,” I answered, turning towards him my face—white, quivering, -tear-stained. “Don’t ask me. Not now. You must answer my questions first, -and after that I will tell you. But I cannot talk of it now. Not yet.” - -We had reached the place we were in search of as I spoke. There, where -the spreading roots of a great beech tree formed a natural resting place -upon the steep side of the ravine, I took my seat, and Alan stretched -himself upon the grass beside me. Then looking up at me—“I do not know -what questions you would ask,” he said quietly; “but I will answer them, -whatever they may be.” - -But I did not ask them yet. I sat instead with my hands clasping my knee, -looking opposite at the glory of harmonious color, or down the glen at -the vista of far-off, dream-like loveliness, on which it opened out. The -yellow autumn sunshine made everything golden, the fresh autumn breezes -filled the air with life; but to me a loathsome shadow seemed to rest -upon all, and to stretch itself out far beyond where my eyes could reach, -befouling the beauty of the whole wide world. At last I spoke. “You have -known of it all, I suppose; of this curse that is in the world—sin and -suffering, and what such words mean.” - -“Yea,” he said, looking at me with wondering pity, “I am afraid so.” - -“But have you known them as they are known to some—agonized, hopeless -suffering, and sin that is all but inevitable? Some time in your life -probably you have realized that such things are: it has come home to -you, and to every one else, no doubt, except a few ignorant girls such -as I was yesterday. But there are some—yes, thousands and thousands—who -even now, at this moment, are feeling sorrow like that, are sinking -deep, deeper into the bottomless pit of their soul’s degradation. And -yet men who know this, who have seen it, laugh, talk, are happy, amuse -themselves—how can they, how can they?” I stopped with a catch in my -voice, and then stretching out my arms in front of me—“And it is not only -men. Look how beautiful the earth is, and God has made it, and lets the -sun crown it every day with a new glory, while this horror of evil broods -over and poisons it all. Oh, why is it so? I cannot understand it.” - -My arms drooped again as I finished, and my eyes sought Alan’s. His were -full of tears, but there was almost a smile quivering at the corners of -his lips as he replied: “When you have found an answer to that question, -Evie, come and tell me and mankind at large. It will be news to us all.” -Then he continued—“But, after all, the earth is beautiful, and the sun -does shine. We have our own happiness to rejoice in, our own sorrows to -bear, the suffering that is near to us to grapple with. For the rest, for -this blackness of evil which surrounds us, and which we can do nothing to -lighten, it will soon, thank God, become vague and far off to you as it -is to others. Your feeling of it will be dulled, and, except at moments, -you too will forget.” - -“But that is horrible,” I exclaimed, passionately; “the evil will be -there all the same, whether I feel it or not. Men and women will be -struggling in their misery and sin, only I shall be too selfish to care.” - -“We cannot go outside the limits of our own nature,” he replied; “our -knowledge is shallow and our spiritual insight dark, and God in His mercy -has made our hearts shallow too, and our imagination dull. If, knowing -and trusting only as men do, we were to feel as angels feel, earth would -be hell indeed.” - -It was cold comfort, but at that moment anything warmer or brighter -would have been unreal and utterly repellent to me. I hardly took in the -meaning of his words, but it was as if a hand had been stretched out to -me, struggling in the deep mire, by one who himself felt solid ground -beneath him. Where he stood I also might some day stand, and that thought -seemed to make patience possible. - -It was he who first broke the silence which followed. “You were saying -that you had questions to ask me. I am impatient to put mine in return, -so please go on.” - -It had been a relief to me to turn even to generalizations of despair -from the actual horror which had inspired them, and to which my mind -was thus recalled. With an effort I replied, “Yes, I want to ask you -about that room—the room in which I slept, and—and the murder which was -committed there.” In spite of all that I could do, my voice sank almost -to a whisper as I concluded, and I was trembling from head to foot. - -“Who told you that a murder was committed there?” Something in my face -as he asked the question made him add quickly, “Never mind. You are -right. That is the room in which Hugh Mervyn was murdered by his wife. -I was surprised at your question, for I did not know that anyone but -my brothers and myself were aware of the fact. The subject is never -mentioned. It is closely connected with one intensely painful to our -family, and besides, if spoken of, there would be inconveniences arising -from the superstitious terrors of servants, and the natural dislike of -guests to sleep in a room where such a thing had happened. Indeed it -was largely with the view of wiping out the last memory of the crime’s -locality, that my father renewed the interior of the room some twenty -years ago. The only tradition which has been adhered to in connection -with it is the one which has now been violated in your person—the one -which precludes any unmarried woman from sleeping there. Except for that, -the room has, as you know, lost all sinister reputation, and its title of -‘haunted’ has become purely conventional. Nevertheless, as I said, you -are right—that is undoubtedly the room in which the murder was committed.” - -He stopped and looked up at me, waiting for more. - -“Go on; tell me about it, and what followed.” My lips formed the words; -my heart beat faintly for my breath to utter them. - -“About the murder itself there is not much to tell. The man, I believe, -was an inhuman scoundrel, and the woman first killed him in desperation, -and afterwards herself in despair. The only detail connected with -the actual crime of which I have ever heard, was the gale that was -blowing that night—the fiercest known to this countryside in that -generation; and it has always been said since that any misfortune to the -Mervyns—especially any misfortune connected with the curse—comes with a -storm of wind. That was why I so disliked your story of the imaginary -tempests which have disturbed your nights since you slept there. As to -what followed,”—he gave a sigh—“that story is long enough and full of -incident. On the morning after the murder, so runs the tale, Dame Alice -came down to the Grange from the tower to which she had retired when -her son’s wickedness had driven her from his house, and there in the -presence of the two corpses she foretold the curse which should rest upon -their descendants for generations to come. A clergyman who was present, -horrified, it is said at her words, adjured her by the mercy of Heaven to -place some term to the doom which she had pronounced. She replied that no -mortal might reckon the fruit of a plant which drew its life from hell; -that a term there should be, but as it passed the wisdom of man to fix -it, so it should pass the wit of man to discover it. She then placed in -the room this cabinet, constructed by herself and her Italian follower, -and said that the curse should not depart from the family until the day -when its doors were unlocked and its legend read. - -“Such is the story. I tell it to you as it was told to me. One thing only -is certain, that the doom thus traditionally foretold has been only too -amply fulfilled.” - -“And what was the doom?” - -Alan hesitated a little, and when he spoke his voice was almost awful in -its passionless sternness, in its despairing finality; it seemed to echo -the irrevocable judgment which his words pronounced: “That the crimes -against God and each other which had destroyed the parents’ life should -enter into the children’s blood, and that never thereafter should there -fail a Mervyn to bring shame or death upon one generation of his father’s -house. - -“There were two sons of that ill-fated marriage,” he went on after a -pause, “boys at the time of their parents’ death. When they grew up -they both fell in love with the same woman, and one killed the other in -a duel. The story of the next generation was a peculiarly sad one. Two -brothers took opposite sides during the civil troubles; but so fearful -were they of the curse which lay upon the family, that they chiefly -made use of their mutual position in order to protect and guard each -other. After the wars were over, the younger brother, while traveling -upon some parliamentary commission, stopped a night at the Grange. -There, through a mistake, he exchanged the report which he was bringing -to London for a packet of papers implicating his brother and several -besides in a royalist plot. He only discovered his error as he handed -the papers to his superior, and was but just able to warn his brother -in time for him to save his life by flight. The other men involved were -taken and executed, and as it was known by what means information had -reached the Government, the elder Mervyn was universally charged with -the vilest treachery. It is said that when after the Restoration his -return home was rumored the neighboring gentry assembled, armed with -riding whips, to flog him out of the country if he should dare to show -his face there. He died abroad, shame-stricken and broken-hearted. It was -his son, brought up by his uncle in the sternest tenets of Puritanism, -who, coming home after a lengthened journey, found that during his -absence his sister had been shamefully seduced. He turned her out of -doors, then and there, in the midst of a bitter January night, and the -next morning her dead body and that of her new-born infant were found -half buried in the fresh-fallen snow on the top of the wolds. The ‘white -lady’ is still supposed by the villagers to haunt that side of the glen. -And so it went on. A beautiful, heartless Mervyn in Queen Anne’s time -enticed away the affections of her sister’s betrothed, and on the day -of her own wedding with him, her forsaken sister was found drowned by -her own act in the pond at the bottom of the garden. Two brothers were -soldiers together in some Continental war, and one was involuntarily the -means of discovering and exposing the treason of the other. A girl was -betrayed into a false marriage, and her life ruined by a man who came -into the house as her brother’s friend, and whose infamous designs were -forwarded and finally accomplished by that same brother’s active though -unsuspecting assistance. Generation after generation, men or women, -guilty or innocent, through the action of their own will or in spite of -it, the curse has never yet failed of its victims.” - -“Never yet? But surely in our own time—your father?” I did not dare to -put the question which was burning my lips. - -“Have you never heard of the tragic end of my poor young uncles?” he -replied. “They were several years older than my father. When boys of -fourteen and fifteen they were sent out with the keeper for their first -shooting lesson, and the elder shot his brother through the heart. He -himself was delicate, and they say that he never entirely recovered from -the shock. He died before he was twenty, and my father, then a child -of seven years old, became the heir. It was partly, no doubt, owing to -this calamity having thus occurred before he was old enough to feel it, -that his comparative skepticism on the whole subject was due. To that, -I suppose, and to the fact that he grew up in an age of railways and -liberal culture.” - -“He didn’t believe, then, in the curse?” - -“Well, rather, he thought nothing about it. Until, that is, the time came -when it took effect, to break his heart and end his life.” - -“How do you mean?” - -There was silence for a little. Alan had turned away his head, so that I -could not see his face. Then— - -“I suppose you have never been told the true story of why Jack left the -country?” - -“No. Was he—is he——?” - -“He is one victim of the curse in this generation, and I, God help me, am -the other, and perhaps more wretched one.” - -His voice trembled and broke, and for the first time that day I almost -forgot the mysterious horror of the night before, in my pity for the -actual, tangible suffering before me. I stretched out my hand to his, and -his fingers closed on mine with a sudden, painful grip. Then quietly— - -“I will tell you the story,” he said, “though since that miserable time I -have spoken of it to no one.” - -There was a pause before he began. He lay there by my side, his gaze -turned across me up the sunbright, autumn-tinted glen, but his eyes -shadowed by the memories which he was striving to recall and arrange in -due order in his mind. And when he did speak it was not directly to begin -the promised recital. - -“You never knew Jack,” he said, abruptly. - -“Hardly,” I acquiesced. “I remember thinking him very handsome.” - -“There could not be two opinions as to that,” he answered. “And a man who -could have done anything he liked with life, had things gone differently. -His abilities were fine, but his strength lay above all in his character: -he was strong—strong in his likes and in his dislikes, resolute, -fearless, incapable of half measures—a man, every inch of him. He was not -generally popular—stiff, hard, unsympathetic, people called him. From -one point of view, and one only, he perhaps deserved the epithets. If a -woman lost his respect she seemed to lose his pity too. Like a mediaeval -monk, he looked upon such rather as the cause than the result of male -depravity, and his contempt for them mingled with anger, almost, as I -sometimes thought, with hatred. And this attitude was, I have no doubt, -resented by the men of his own class and set, who shared neither his -faults nor his virtues. But in other ways he was not hard. He could love; -I, at least, have cause to know it. If you would hear his story rightly -from my lips, Evie, you must try and see him with my eyes. The friend who -loved me, and whom I loved with the passion which, if not the strongest, -is certainly, I believe, the most enduring of which men are capable—that -perfect brother’s love, which so grows into our being that when it is at -peace we are scarcely conscious of its existence, and when it is wounded -our very life-blood seems to flow at the stroke. Brothers do not always -love like that: I can only wish that we had not done so. - - -_VII._ - -“Well, about five years ago, before I had taken my degree, I became -acquainted with a woman whom I will call ‘Delia,’—it is near enough -to the name by which she went. She was a few years older than myself, -very beautiful, and I believed her to be what she described herself—the -innocent victim of circumstance and false appearance, a helpless prey -to the vile calumnies of worldlings. In sober fact, I am afraid that -whatever her life may have been actually at the time that I knew her—a -subject which I have never cared to investigate—her past had been not -only bad enough irretrievably to fix her position in society, but bad -enough to leave her without an ideal in the world, though still retaining -within her heart the possibilities of a passion which, from the moment -that it came to life, was strong enough to turn her whole existence -into one desperate reckless straining after an object hopelessly beyond -her reach. That was the woman with whom, at the age of twenty, I -fancied myself in love. She wanted to get a husband, and she thought -me—rightly—ass enough to accept the post. I was very young then even for -my years,—a student, an idealist, with an imagination highly developed, -and no knowledge whatever of the world as it actually is. Anyhow, before -I had known her a month, I had determined to make her my wife. My parents -were abroad at the time, George and Lucy here, so that it was to Jack -that I imparted the news of my resolve. As you may imagine, he did -all that he could to shake it. But I was immovable. I disbelieved his -facts, and despised his contempt from the standpoint of my own superior -morality. This state of things continued for several weeks, during the -greater part of which time I was at Oxford. I only knew that while I was -there, Jack had made Delia’s acquaintance, and was apparently cultivating -it assiduously. - -“One day, during the Easter vacation, I got a note from her asking me to -supper at her house. Jack was invited too. We lodged together while my -people were away. - -“There is no need to dwell upon that supper. There were two or three -women there of her own sort, or worse, and a dozen men from among the -most profligate in London. The conversation was, I should think, bad even -for that class; and she, the goddess of my idolatry, outstripped them all -by the foul, coarse shamelessness of her language and behavior. Before -the entertainment was half over, I rose and took my leave, accompanied -by Jack and another man—Legard was his name—who I presume was bored. -Just as we had passed through into the anteroom, which lay beyond the -one in which we had been eating, Delia followed us, and laying her hand -on Jack’s arm, said that she must speak with him. Legard and I went into -the outer hall, and we had not been there more than a minute when the -door from the anteroom opened, and we heard Delia’s voice. I remember the -words well—that was not the only occasion on which I was to hear them. ‘I -will keep the ring as a record of my love,’ she said, ‘and understand, -that though you may forget, I never shall.’ Jack came through, the door -closed, and as we went out I glanced towards his left hand, and saw, as -I expected to see, the absence of the ring which he usually wore there. -It contained a gem which my mother had picked up in the East, and I knew -that he valued it quite peculiarly. We always called it Jack’s talisman. - -“A miserable time followed, a time for me of agonizing wonder and doubt, -during which regret for my dead illusion was entirely swallowed up in the -terrible dread of my brother’s degradation. Then came the announcement -of his engagement to Lady Sylvia Grey; and a week later, the very day -after I had finally returned to London from Oxford, I received a summons -from Delia to come and see her. Curiosity, and the haunting fear about -Jack, which still hung round me, induced me to consent to what otherwise -would have been intolerably repellent to me, and I went. I found her -in a mad passion of fury. Jack had refused to see her or to answer her -letters, and she had sent for me, that I might give him her message—tell -him that he belonged to her and her only and that he never should marry -another woman. Angry at my interference, Jack disdained even to repudiate -her claims, only sending back a threat of appealing to the police if -she ventured upon any further annoyance. I wrote as she told me, and -she emphasized my silence on the subject by writing back to me a more -definite and explicit assertion of her rights. Beyond that for some -weeks she made no sign. I have no doubt that she had means of keeping -watch upon both his movements and mine; and during that time, as she -relinquished gradually all hopes of inducing him to abandon his purpose, -she was being driven to her last despairing resolve. - -“Later, when all was over, Jack told me the story of that spring and -summer. He told me how, when he found me immovable on the subject, he -had resolved to stop the marriage somehow through Delia herself. He had -made her acquaintance, and sought her society frequently. She had taken -a fancy to him, and he admitted that he had availed himself of this fact -to increase his intimacy with her, and, as he hoped ultimately, his power -over her, but he was not conscious of ever having varied in his manner -towards her of contemptuous indifference. This contradictory behavior—his -being constantly near her, yet always beyond her reach—was probably the -very thing which excited her fancy into passion, and the one strong -passion of the poor woman’s life. Then came his deliberate demand that -she should by her own act unmask herself in my sight. The unfortunate -woman tried to bargain for some proof of affection in return, and on this -occasion had first openly declared her feelings towards him. He did not -believe her; he refused her terms; but when as her payment she asked for -the ring which was so especially associated with himself, he agreed to -give it to her. Otherwise hoping, no doubt against hope, dreading above -all things a quarrel and final separation, she submitted unconditionally. -And from the time of that evening, when Legard and I had overheard -her parting words, Jack never saw her again until the last and final -catastrophe. - -“It was in July. My parents had returned to England, but had come -straight on here. Jack and I were dining together with Lady Sylvia at her -father’s house—her brother, young Grey, making the fourth at dinner. I -had arranged to go to a party with your mother, and I told the servants -that a lady would call for me early in the evening. The house stood in -Park Lane, and after dinner we all went out on to the broad balcony which -opened from the drawing-room. There was a strong wind blowing that night, -and I remember well the vague, disquieted feeling of unreality that -possessed me—sweeping through me, as it were, with each gust of wind. -Then, suddenly, a servant stood behind me, saying that the lady had come -for me, and was in the drawing-room. Shocked that my aunt should have -troubled herself to come so far, I turned quickly, stepped back into the -room, and found myself face to face with Delia. She was fully dressed for -the evening, with a long silk opera-cloak over her shoulders, her face -as white as her gown, her splendid eyes strangely wide open and shining. -I don’t know what I said or did. I tried to get her away, but it was too -late. The others had heard us, and appeared at the open window. Jack came -forward at once, speaking rapidly, fiercely; telling her to leave the -house at once; promising desperately that he would see her in his own -rooms on the morrow. Well I remember how her answer rang out— - -“‘Neither tomorrow nor another day. I will never leave you again while I -live.’ - -“At the same instant she drew something swiftly from under her cloak, -there was the sound of a pistol shot and she lay dead at our feet, her -blood splashing upon Jack’s shirt and hands as she fell.” - -Alan paused in his recital. He was trembling from head to foot; but he -kept his eyes turned steadily downwards, and both face and voice were -cold—almost expressionless. - -“Of course there was an inquest,” he resumed, “which, as usual, exercised -its very ill-defined powers in inquiring into all possible motives for -the suicide. Young Grey, who had stepped into the room just before the -shot had been fired, swore to the last words Delia had uttered; Legard -to those he had overheard the night of that dreadful supper. There -were scores of men to bear witness to the intimate relations which had -existed between her and Jack during the whole of the previous spring. I -had to give evidence. A skillful lawyer had been retained by one of her -sisters, and had been instructed by her on points which no doubt she -had originally learnt from Delia herself. In his hands, I had not only -to corroborate Grey and Legard, and to give full details of that last -interview, but also to swear to the peculiar value which Jack attached to -the talisman ring which he had given Delia; to the language she had held -when I saw her after my return from Oxford; to her subsequent letter, -and Jack’s fatal silence on the occasion. The story by which Jack and I -strove to account for the facts was laughed at as a clumsy invention, and -my undisguised reluctance in giving evidence added greatly to its weight -against my brother’s character. - -“The jury returned a verdict of suicide while of unsound mind, the -result of desertion by her lover. You may imagine how that verdict was -commented upon by every Radical newspaper in the kingdom, and for once -society more than corroborated the opinions of the press. The larger -public regarded the story as an extreme case of the innocent victim and -the cowardly society villain. It was only among a comparatively small set -that Delia’s reputation was known, and there, in view of Jack’s notorious -and peculiar intimacy, his repudiation of all relations with her was -received with contemptuous incredulity. That he should have first entered -upon such relations at the very time when he was already courting Lady -Sylvia was regarded even in those circles as a ‘strong order,’ and they -looked upon his present attitude with great indignation, as a cowardly -attempt to save his own character by casting upon the dead woman’s memory -all the odium of a false accusation. With an entire absence of logic, -too, he was made responsible for the suicide having taken place in Lady -Sylvia’s presence. She had broken off the engagement the day after the -catastrophe, and her family, a clan powerful in the London world, furious -at the mud through which her name had been dragged, did all that they -could to intensify the feeling already existing against Jack. - -“Not a voice was raised in his defense. He was advised to leave the -army; he was requested to withdraw from some of his clubs, turned out of -others, avoided by his fast acquaintances, cut by his respectable ones. -It was enough to kill a weaker man. - -“He showed no resentment at the measure thus dealt out to him. Indeed, -at the first, except for Sylvia’s desertion of him, he seemed dully -indifferent to it all. It was as if his soul had been stunned, from the -moment that that wretched woman’s blood had splashed upon his fingers, -and her dead eyes had looked into his own. - -“But it was not long before he realized the full extent of the social -damnation which had been inflicted upon him, and he then resolved to -leave the country and go to America. The night before he started he came -down here to take leave. I was here looking after my parents—George, -whose mind was almost unhinged by the family disgrace, having gone -abroad with his wife. My mother at the first news of what had happened -had taken to her bed, never to leave it again; and thus it was in my -presence alone, up there in my father’s little study, that Jack gave him -that night the whole story. He told it quietly enough; but when he had -finished, with a sudden outburst of feeling he turned upon me. It was I -who had been the cause of it all. My insensate folly had induced him to -make the unhappy woman’s acquaintance, to allow and even encourage her -fatal love, to commit all the blunders and sins which had brought about -her miserable ending and his final overthrow. It was by means of me that -she had obtained access to him on that dreadful night; my evidence which -most utterly damned him in public opinion; through me he had lost his -reputation, his friends, his career, his country, the woman he loved, -his hopes for the future; through me, above all, that the burden of that -horrible death would lie forever on his soul. He was lashing himself to -fury with his own words as he spoke; and I stood leaning against the -wall opposite to him cold, dumb, unresisting, when suddenly my father -interrupted. I think that both Jack and I had forgotten his presence; -but at the sound of his voice, changed from what we had ever heard it, -we turned to him, and I then for the first time saw in his face the -death-look which never afterwards quitted it. - -“‘Stop, Jack,’ he said; ‘Alan is not to blame; and if it had not been in -this way, it would have been in some other. I only am guilty, who brought -you both into existence with my own hell-stained blood in your veins. If -you wish to curse anyone, curse your family, your name, me if you will, -and may God forgive me that you were ever born into the world!’” - -Alan stopped with a shudder, and then continued, dully, “It was when I -heard those words, the most terrible that a father could have uttered, -that I first understood all that that old sixteenth-century tale might -mean to me and mine—I have realized it vividly enough since. Early the -next morning, when the dawn was just breaking, Jack came to the door of -my room to bid me good-by. All his passion was gone. His looks and tones -seemed part and parcel of the dim gray morning light. He freely withdrew -all the charges he had made against me the night before; forgave me all -the share that I had had in his misfortunes; and then begged that I would -never come near him, or let him hear from me again. ‘The curse is heavy -upon us both,’ he said, ‘and it is the only favor which you can do me.’ I -have never seen him since.” - -“But you have heard of him!” I exclaimed; “what has become of him?” - -Alan raised himself to a sitting posture. “The last that I heard,” he -said, with a catch in his voice, “was that in his misery and hopelessness -he was taking to drink. George writes to him, and does what he can; but -I—I dare not say a word, for fear it should turn to poison on my lips—I -dare not lift a hand to help him, for fear it should have power to strike -him to the ground. The worst may be yet to come; I am still living, still -living. There are depths of shame to which he has not sunk. And oh, Evie, -Evie, he is my own, my best-loved brother!” - -All his composure was gone now. His voice rose to a kind of wail with -the last words, and folding his arms on his raised knee, he let his -head fall upon them, while his figure quivered with scarcely restrained -emotion. There was a silence for some moments while he sat thus, I -looking on in wretched helplessness beside him. Then he raised his head, -and, without looking round at me, went on in a low tone: “And what is -in the future? I pray that death instead of shame may be the portion of -the next generation, and I look at George’s boys only to wonder which of -them is the happy one who shall some day lie dead at his brother’s feet. -Are you surprised at my resolution never to marry? The fatal prophecy is -rich in its fulfillment; none of our name and blood are safe; and the day -might come when I too should have to call upon my children to curse me -for their birth,—should have to watch while the burden which I could no -longer bear alone pressed the life from their mother’s heart.” - -Through the tragedy of this speech I was conscious of a faint suggestion -of comfort, a far-off glimmer, as of unseen home-lights on a midnight -sky. I was in no mood then to understand, or to seek to understand, what -it was; but I know now that his words had removed the weight of helpless -banishment from my spirit—that his heart, speaking through them to my -own, had made me for life the sharer of his grief. - - -_VIII._ - -Presently he drew his shoulders together with a slight determined -jerk, threw himself back upon the grass, and turning to me, with that -tremulous, haggard smile upon his lips which I knew so well, but which -had never before struck me with such infinite pathos, “Luckily,” he said, -“there are other things to do in life besides being happy. Only perhaps -you understand now what I meant last night when I spoke of things which -flesh and blood cannot bear, and yet which must be borne.” - -Suddenly and sharply his words roused again into activity the loathsome -memory which my interest in his story had partially deadened. He noticed -the quick involuntary contraction of my muscles, and read it aright. -“That reminds me,” he went on; “I must claim your promise. I have told -you my story. Now, tell me yours.” - -I told him; not as I have set it down here, though perhaps even in -greater detail, but incoherently, bit by bit, while he helped me out with -gentle questions, quickly comprehending gestures, and patient waiting -during the pauses of exhaustion which perforce interposed themselves. As -my story approached its climax, his agitation grew almost equal to my -own, and he listened to the close, his teeth clenched, his brows bent, -as if passing again with me through that awful conflict. When I had -finished, it was some moments before either of us could speak; and then -he burst forth into bitter self-reproach for having so far yielded to his -brother’s angry obstinacy as to allow me to sleep the third night in that -fatal room. - -“It was cowardice,” he said, “sheer cowardice! After all that has -happened, I dared not have a quarrel with one of my own blood. And yet if -I had not hardened my heart, I had reason to know what I was risking.” - -“How do you mean?” I asked. - -“Those other two girls who slept there,” he said, breathlessly; “it was -in each case after the third night there that they were found dead—dead, -Evie, so runs the story, with a mark upon their necks similar in shape -and position to the death-wound which Margaret Mervyn inflicted upon -herself.” - -I could not speak, but I clutched his hand with an almost convulsive grip. - -“And I knew the story,—I knew it!” he cried. “As boys we were not allowed -to hear much of our family traditions, but this one I knew. When my -father redid the interior of the east room, he removed at the same time -a board from above the doorway outside, on which had been written—it -is said by Dame Alice herself—a warning upon this very subject. I -happened to be present when our old housekeeper, who had been his nurse, -remonstrated with him warmly upon this act; and I asked her afterwards -what the board was, and why she cared about it so much. In her excitement -she told me the story of those unhappy girls, repeating again and again -that, if the warning were taken away, evil would come of it.” - -“And she was right,” I said, dully. “Oh, if only your father had left it -there!” - -“I suppose,” he answered, speaking more quietly, “that he was impatient -of traditions which, as I told you, he at that time more than half -despised. Indeed he altered the shape of the doorway, raising it, and -making it flat and square, so that the old inscription could not have -been replaced, even had it been wished. I remember it was fitted round -the low Tudor arch which was previously there.” - -My mind, too worn with many emotions for deliberate thought, wandered on -languidly, and as it were mechanically, upon these last trivial words. -The doorway presented itself to my view as it had originally stood, with -the discarded warning above it; and then, by a spontaneous comparison of -mental vision, I recalled the painted board which I had noticed three -days before in Dame Alice’s tower. I suggested to Alan that it might have -been the identical one—its shape was as he described. “Very likely,” he -answered, absently. “Do you remember what the words were?” - -“Yes, I think so,” I replied. “Let me see.” And I repeated them slowly, -dragging them out as it were one by one from my memory: - - “Where the woman sinned the maid shall win; - But God help the maid that sleeps within.” - -“You see,” I said, turning towards him slowly, “the last line is a -warning such as you spoke of.” - -But to my surprise Alan had sprung to his feet, and was looking down at -me, his whole body quivering with excitement. “Yes, Evie,” he cried, “and -the first line is a prophecy;—where the woman sinned the maid _has_ won.” -He seized the hand which I instinctively reached out to him. “We have -not seen the end of this yet,” he went on, speaking rapidly, and as if -articulation had become difficult to him. “Come, Evie, we must go back to -the house and look at the cabinet—now, at once.” - -I had risen to my feet by this time, but I shrank away at those words, -“To that room? Oh, Alan—no, I cannot.” - -He had hold of my hand still, and he tightened his grasp upon it. “I -shall be with you; you will not be afraid with me,” he said. “Come.” His -eyes were burning, his face flushed and paled in rapid alternation, and -his hand held mine like a vice of iron. - -I turned with him, and we walked back to the Grange, Alan quickening his -pace as he went, till I almost had to run by his side. As we approached -the dreaded room my sense of repulsion became almost unbearable; but I -was now infected by his excitement, though I but dimly comprehended its -cause. We met no one on our way, and in a moment he had hurried me into -the house, up the stairs, and along the narrow passage, and I was once -more in the east room, and in the presence of all the memories of that -accursed night. For an instant I stood strengthless, helpless, on the -threshold, my gaze fixed panic-stricken on the spot where I had taken -such awful part in that phantom tragedy of evil; then Alan threw his -arm round me, and drew me hastily on in front of the cabinet. Without -a pause, giving himself time neither to speak nor think, he stretched -out his left hand and moved the buttons one after another. How or in -what direction he moved them I know not; but as the last turned with a -click, the doors, which no mortal hand had unclosed for three hundred -years, flew back, and the cabinet stood open. I gave a little gasp of -fear. Alan pressed his lips closely together, and turned to me with eager -questioning in his eyes. I pointed in answer tremblingly at the drawer -which I had seen open the night before. He drew it out, and there on its -satin bed lay the dagger in its silver sheath. Still without a word he -took it up, and reaching his right hand round me, for I could not now -have stood had he withdrawn his support, with a swift strong jerk he -unsheathed the blade. There in the clear autumn sunshine I could see the -same dull stains I had marked in the flickering candle-light, and over -them, still ruddy and moist, were the drops of my own half-dried blood. -I grasped the lapel of his coat with both my hands, and clung to him -like a child in terror, while the eyes of both of us remained fixed as -if fascinated upon the knife-blade. Then, with a sudden start of memory, -Alan raised his to the cornice of the cabinet, and mine followed. No -change that I could detect had taken place in that twisted goldwork; but -there, clear in the sight of us both, stood forth the words of the magic -motto: - - “Pure blood shed by the blood-stained knife - Ends Mervyn shame, heals Mervyn strife.” - -In low steady tones Alan read out the lines, and then there was -silence—on my part of stunned bewilderment, the bewilderment of a spirit -overwhelmed beyond the power of comprehension by rushing, conflicting -emotions. Alan pressed me closer to him, while the silence seemed to -throb with the beating of his heart and the panting of his breath. But -except for that he remained motionless, gazing at the golden message -before him. At length I felt a movement, and looking up saw his face -turned down towards mine, the lips quivering, the cheeks flushed, the -eyes soft with passionate feeling. “We are saved, my darling,” he -whispered; “saved, and through you.” Then he bent his head lower, and -there in that room of horror, I received the first long lover’s kiss from -my own dear husband’s lips. - - * * * * * - -My husband, yes; but not till some time after that. Alan’s first act, -when he had once fully realized that the curse was indeed removed, -was—throwing his budding practice to the winds—to set sail for America. -There he sought out Jack, and labored hard to impart to him some of his -own newfound hope. It was slow work, but he succeeded at last; and only -left him when, two years later, he had handed him over to the charge -of a bright-eyed Western girl, to whom the whole story had been told, -and who showed herself ready and anxious to help in building up again -the broken life of her English lover. To judge from the letters that we -have since received, she has shown herself well fitted for the task. -Among other things she has money, and Jack’s worldly affairs have so -prospered that George declares that he can well afford now to waste some -of his superfluous cash upon farming a few of his elder brother’s acres. -The idea seems to smile upon Jack, and I have every hope this winter of -being able to institute an actual comparison between our small boy, his -namesake, and his own three-year-old Alan. The comparison, by the way, -will have to be conditional, for Jacket—the name by which my son and heir -is familiarly known—is but a little more than two. - -I turn my eyes for a moment, and they fall upon the northern corner of -the East Room, which shows round the edge of the house. Then the skeleton -leaps from the cupboard of my memory; the icy hand which lies ever near -my soul grips it suddenly with a chill shudder. Not for nothing was that -wretched woman’s life interwoven with my own, if only for an hour; not -for nothing did my spirit harbor a conflict and an agony, which, thank -God, are far from its own story. Though Margaret Mervyn’s dagger failed -to pierce my flesh, the wound in my soul may never wholly be healed. I -know that that is so; and yet as I turn to start through the sunshine -to the cedar shade and its laughing occupants, I whisper to myself with -fervent conviction, “It was worth it.” - - - - -THE EYRIE - - -It’s a strange thing. We can’t understand it. In last month’s Eyrie we -mentioned the enormous flood of manuscripts that daily inundates us, -and now we’re going to dwell briefly on a singular phase of this sea of -words—a peculiar circumstance that might profitably be studied by your -sedulous student of psychology. - -These manuscripts come from all parts of the civilized world, and they -come from all sorts of people—lawyers, truck drivers, doctors, farmers’ -wives, university professors, carpenters, high school girls, convicts, -society women, drug fiends, ministers, policemen, novelists, hotel clerks -and professional tramps—and one, therefore, would naturally expect -their stories to possess corresponding diversity. But not so. With rare -exceptions, all these stories, written by all these different kinds of -people, are almost exactly alike! - -Not only do they contain the same general plots and themes—one might -understand that—but practically all are written in the same style; all -have the same grammatical blunders, the same misspelled words, the same -errors in punctuation, the same eccentric quirks of phraseology. After -plowing through fifty or so of these stories (and we often read that many -in an evening), a man acquires the dazed impression that all are written -by the same person. It’s baffling! Why do the minds of these various -types of people, living in different parts of the world and moving in -dissimilar walks of life, slide comfortably into the same well-worn -groove whenever they put their thoughts on paper? We give it up. - -And now that we have that off our chest, we’ll talk of something less -inexplicable and more delightful—namely, the Success of WEIRD TALES. -That WEIRD TALES _is_ a success there seems no gainsaying now. When we -made our bow with the first issue we were hopeful, yet not certain, -of a cordial reception. With the second issue, our uncertainty began -to vanish. And now, with this the third number of WEIRD TALES, we can -happily announce that we’re here to stay. WEIRD TALES has “caught on” -even more quickly than we hoped it would. The reaction of the public -indicates that a vast multitude of people had long been waiting for just -this sort of magazine. - -We find a like indication in the enormous number of letters from -delighted readers. We expected some such response, but we scarcely hoped -for this multiplicity! We’re fairly deluged with these encomiums—and a -little bewildered, too, and not quite sure which ones to choose for The -Eyrie and which to leave out. Perhaps, then, we’d best shut our eyes and -grab a handful at random.... - -We open our eyes and discover this: - - “Dear Sir and Friend: Many times in the past I have been - tempted to write different editors, telling them how I enjoyed - certain stories. But always something restrained me. As I read - almost every fiction magazine published in America, you will - understand how often I have wanted to compliment them. - - “Last night I saw a copy of your new magazine and bought one. - Although I had an early rehearsal at the theatre this morning, - I started at the first story AND NEVER LAID IT DOWN UNTIL I HAD - READ THE LAST LINE OF THE LAST STORY! - - “I can truthfully say I never dreamed a magazine could contain - what I call 100 per cent stories. The thing that is worrying - me now is the long wait until next month and the arrival of - the next issue. Dear Mr. Editor, why not a weekly? It is the - ONE magazine I wish were a daily! I am going to boost it - to all my friends, as I am sure they will be glad I called - their attention to it.... I feel you have undertaken a brave - proposition, and there must be many thousands of others who - will await its arrival just as anxiously as I. - - “In conclusion, let me thank you for your dauntless courage - and express the sincere hope that you may never weaken. Always - count me as one of your very best boosters for this absolutely - wonderful magazine, and always believe me to be - - “One who admires courage and determination, - - “L. William Pitzer, - - “Director, Girard Avenue Theatre Co., Philadelphia.” - -That serves very neatly for a starter, does it not? In fact, we doubt -if the Editor himself could have written a more fervid panegyric! Mr. -Pitzer, we gather, is even more feverishly absorbed in WEIRD TALES than -we are—and we thought we were rather interested in it. What he says about -publishing it every week is interesting, but as for a _daily_—Heaven help -us! The man doesn’t live who could do it! - -Of compelling charm is the following communication, postmarked Vera Cruz, -Mexico, from Charles M. Boone, Third Officer of the Steamship _Yumuri_: - - “Editor, WEIRD TALES: I, acting on a ‘hunch,’ purchased your - March issue in Brooklyn, along with other reading matter for - sea use, and your publication was so far in advance of the - others that I could not resist a letter to you expressing my - appreciation and wishing WEIRD TALES a long and prosperous - voyage on the sea of literature, and with just such precious - cargo as is carried in the March issue. - - “I work and live on the Yumuri, a tramp steamer out of New - Orleans. New Orleans, as you know, was requisitioned by you - people ‘up there,’ some years ago, to fasten the other end of - the I. C. R. R. to, and now New Orleans requisitions us to - carry your freight away as rapidly as possible so that you - can’t push her overboard into the Gulf by using said railroad - as a handspike. You can gather from this that at present I have - no fixed address for mailing purposes, such as I would need to - have you mail WEIRD TALES to me regularly, but I am enclosing - price of April number, and if you will kindly have same mailed - to me at address given I’ll feel greatly obliged, and can - arrange with some newsdealer in New Orleans to save an issue - for me each month. - - “Your magazine (the only copy on board) is slowly making the - rounds of the ship. So far, everybody is favorably impressed, - except the cat and the goat, and those who have not read it are - lined up awaiting their turn. At present the Old Man (skipper) - is locked in his cabin, submerged in ‘A Dead Man’s Tale,’ and - he swears he will shoot anyone that interrupts him. As he is a - veteran of four wars, has a .45 Colts, a bad ‘rep,’ and is able - to swear in every known (and several unknown) tongues, it is a - pretty safe bet that he won’t be disturbed, and that you will - have another ‘fan’ as soon as he comes up for air. - - “It has given the first officer, Mr. Henkleman, the ‘jimmies.’ - Mr. Weeks, the second officer, joins me in expressing his - appreciation of your efforts, and wishes me to say to you - that he will gladly do anything in his power to further the - interests of your publication.... Our mess boy says you ought - to be arrested. You see, he stole some time off to read Mr. - Rud’s yarn. He was supposed to be on duty, but was found by the - steward (his immediate superior) in an unused state room (where - he thought he would be safe from discovery) while deep in the - story. The steward threw the door open suddenly—just as the - boy reached the climax—and I guess he thought one of Mr. Rud’s - monsters had him! - - “WEIRD TALES is doing good on board, too. We have had a little - trouble in getting one hombre to respond quickly to fire and - boat drill signal. Today the alarm was sounded while he was in - the midst of a yarn, and, although his quarters are far removed - from Assembly, he beat every mother’s son to the lifeboats. We - have a cargo of gunpowder and dynamite on board, consigned to - Vera Cruz, where this letter will be mailed, and that may have - helped some, but I believe that your magazine was the prime - impulse....” - -There is a good deal more to the foregoing letter, but at least we’ve -quoted enough to show that all on board the _Yumuri_, except the goat -and cat, seem to be enjoying WEIRD TALES—and when the crew and officers -are through with it they’ll probably throw it at the cat or feed it to -the goat. Seafaring men, as a rule, are excellent judges of fiction; -wherefore the praise of Third Officer Boone pleases us immensely. - -Here’s a breezy digest of the March issue from George F. Morgan, 680 -North Vine Street, Hazleton, Pennsylvania: - - “Dear Editor of Hair-Exercising Tales: The other evening, - while looking over some magazines at my favorite book store, - I happened to notice your March issue of WEIRD TALES, and the - title at once seemed to strike me as being something different, - so I immediately bade a genuine American quarter good-by and - took a copy along home with me. I wish to state right now that - I got two-dimes-and-a-nickel’s worth of well-balanced thrills - out of that issue and would be willing to pay the war tax on it - also. - - “‘The Dead Man’s Tale’ was real interesting, and it is only - too true that stories of that type are nearly as scarce as - the guinea pig’s tail. The terrible creature in ‘Ooze’ was as - horrible if not worse than some of the snakes in home-made - Booze. Dad lost two nights’ sleep trying to figure out what - ‘The Thing of a Thousand Shapes’ could really be. Guess he’ll - have to wait till April, like the rest of us poor guessers. - - “‘The Mystery of Black Jean’ sure was a bear of a story, but it - is sad that the notorious hero should end up in a lime factory. - Uncle Mart (who works in the coal mines) read ‘The Grave,’ and - it sure must have scared him, because he is now working outside - in the weather. Baby let the rattle fall while Ma was reading - ‘Hark! The Rattle!’ and it took all the smelling salts on hand - to bring her to. - - “It’s a good idea to have lots of lamps in the room before - beginning a story like ‘The Ghost Guard,’ and be sure they - are filled with a good grade of oil, ’cause if they should go - out in the middle of such a story Lord only knows what would - happen! Stories like ‘The Ghoul and the Corpse’ have the same - effect on your back as twenty below zero. Ma read ‘Weaving - Shadows’ out loud, and sister’s beau went home at ten-thirty. - Sister wondered why he didn’t stay till twelve, as was his - custom. - - “Dad gave our copy of WEIRD TALES to the neighbor’s kids, and - Mrs. Murphy is still wondering why they get the evening supply - of coal up from the cellar so early.” - -Quite a family affair, we’ll say; and (assuming that George isn’t kidding -us) isn’t it amazing how much disturbance a single copy of W. T. can -create in a peaceful neighborhood? - -Especially gratifying to the business office (likewise to your Ed.) are -letters such as this: - - “Dear sir: The other day, as I stopped at a nearby newsstand, I - noticed a copy of the March issue of WEIRD TALES. As I am much - interested in the type of story which this magazine presents, - and continually on the lookout for new magazines of all kinds, - I immediately bought one. - - “‘Do you know,’ said the dealer, ‘it is surprising how that - magazine has sold. I took six copies this morning, wondering if - they would sell. You have just bought the sixth. Next time I - can judge my order better.’ - - “I have read the issue, and I wish to congratulate you on your - initiative in putting before the reading public stories such - as it is almost impossible to obtain elsewhere. Several of my - friends, who have picked up the copy, after reading some of - the stories, have expressed their approval and wishes for a - continued success. - - “James P. Marshall, - “409 Marlboro Street, Boston, Mass.” - -Thanks! If there is any one thing that pleases us more than printing -exceptional stories in WEIRD TALES it is the news that a dealer is -selling _all_ his quota. It wounds us grievously to see unsold copies -returned. - -Earl L. Bell of Augusta, Georgia, writes us: - - “Dear Mr. Baird: Just a few lines to tell you how I enjoyed - the natal issue of WEIRD TALES. For years I have been looking - for just such a periodical. I’m tired of reading magazines - that cater to the type of stuff that milady likes to read as - she lies in bed, holds the periodical with one hand and feeds - chocolates to a poodle with the other. - - “I have often remarked that Poe’s stories, if written today - instead of many years ago, would be dubbed pure rot by most of - the American magazines. The editors admit that Poe’s horror - tales are among the most gripping stories ever penned. Then why - is it they taboo such stories today? - - “I think you have the right trail. Especially thrilling and - well-written were ‘The Ghoul and the Corpse’ and ‘The Young - Man Who Wanted to Die.’ For sheer imagery, word-pictures and - mastery of style, both stories reached perihelion.” - -We, too, have often wondered why other magazines shun the sort of stories -that we gladly accept; and it is not unlikely that if Poe were living -today he would find no market for his work except in WEIRD TALES. The -reason for this we do not know (and we don’t know that we care a damn), -but we do know this: In editing WEIRD TALES we follow no precedent, bow -to no custom, honor no tradition. When we took this job we chucked all -those things in the waste-basket and told the janitor to dump them in the -rubbish heap. We started out to blaze a new path in magazine literature, -and we’re going to do it, or die in the effort. - -And while we’re on this topic we must quote a few lines in a letter from -Professor George W. Crane of the Department of Psychology at Northwestern -University: - - “Dear sir: I am writing to express my keen appreciation of - WEIRD TALES. I read some months ago that it was to be published - soon, and I looked forward with great interest toward reading - the first number. It answers a definite lack in modern magazine - fiction, and one which is wholesome. - - “The type of story which you feature is not immoral, but is - very stimulating, and forms a pleasing diversion to me from - heavier and more abstract material. Mr. Rud’s tale, ‘Ooze,’ is - extremely bizarre, and I am recommending it to my colleague in - the faculty of the Department of Zoology. I will predict, from - the analysis of human interests, that WEIRD TALES will have a - tremendous success.” - -We need only add that Professor Crane is a gifted prophet; for his -prediction is rapidly being fulfilled. - -Equally germane to the subject we’re discussing is the following letter -from Edward Schultz, 335 Delaware Avenue, Buffalo, New York: - - “Dear sir: I have had the pleasure of very recently discovering - your delightful publication, WEIRD TALES. I do not know whether - it is the first issue or not, but I do know that I shall never - miss a future issue if the March number is any standard of - those to follow. Of about twenty or more periodicals to which I - subscribe, WEIRD TALES is the only one that I somehow find time - to read from cover to cover. - - “Being a great admirer of the late Edgar Allen Poe, whose - works I have read many times over, I was more than agreeably - surprised to find his matchless style abound in WEIRD TALES. - - “Allow me to congratulate you on your innovation, which I shall - heartily recommend to my friends. But please keep it as it - is—keep out plain and overworked stuff about detectives, wild - west, etc. There are a great number of us who want weirdness to - the nth power in our recreational reading. I shall eagerly look - forward to the April issue.” - - * * * * * - -We’ve just grabbed another fistful of letters, and the first one we open -is this: - - “Dear sir: At last a fiction magazine that is different! - Congratulations! You are correct—people do like to read this - kind of fiction. - - “You asked us to mention the stories we liked and those we - didn’t like so well. I enjoyed, in their order, ‘The Thing of a - Thousand Shapes,’ which still has me in suspense, ‘The Place of - Madness,’ ‘The Weaving Shadows,’ ‘The Grave,’ ‘The Skull,’ ‘The - Extraordinary Experiment of Dr. Calgroni.’ - - “‘The Basket,’ I thought rather pointless. The plot of ‘Ooze’ - excellent, but just a trifle above the average reader to - understand in detail. ‘The Chain’ was too long drawn out. - - “And do give us less of unfaithful wives and husbands. I may - seem too critical, perhaps, but let me say that I wish the - magazine were published twice a month, for how refreshing to - find that interesting stories can be written without ‘love - interest.’ Please leave that to the movies and to the countless - other magazines.”—S. A. N. - -And the next is from Richard P. Israel, 620 Riverside Drive, New York -City: - - “Dear Sir: Have just finished reading your new magazine, WEIRD - TALES, and would like to say it’s a peach. It is just the kind - that wakes a man up after he has put in a hard day’s work.... - Could you possibly run some snappy, spooky baseball stories? I - am sure that almost everybody will like them, baseball being - our national game.” - -We don’t remember ever seeing anything spooky in baseball; and yet—who -knows?—perhaps Mr. Israel can tell us something about the ghosts that -haunt the Cubs. - -A. L. Richard, 9234 Cottage Grove Avenue, Chicago, knows what he likes -and doesn’t like, and he doesn’t hesitate to speak right out in meeting. -As witness: - - “Dear Mr. Baird: May I congratulate you as a delighted reader - of your excellent magazine? You can not wish more for its - success than I do, for I have long felt the need of such a - periodical. So much of the mental feed given us by other - editors is fit only for infants. We red-blooded men want - something that stirs the sterner emotions. We want to be scared - stiff. Too many of us think nothing can make us afraid; your - stories will fill us with terror. Some of us are too lazy and - sleep more than we should; your tales will keep us awake more - of the time and thus give us more pep and vim, and makes our - lives worth living. - - “Most of the stories in your first number are excellent; some - few rather indifferent. To my mind the best were ‘The Dead - Man’s Tale,’ ‘Ooze,’ ‘The Extraordinary Experiment of Dr. - Calgroni’ (although the transferring of a brain from one person - to another was done some time ago in another story) and ‘The - Skull.’ ‘Hark! the Rattle!’ I thought a trifle too rhetorical - and exclamatory; ‘Nimba, the Cave Girl’ not properly a weird - tale; ‘The Ghost Guard’ not quite convincing; and ‘The Sequel’ - no improvement on Poe. - - “But these are my own personal likes and dislikes; I have no - doubt that many others of your readers preferred the very - tales that did not impress me. On the whole, you are to be - felicitated on your venture, and I hope that WEIRD TALES will - enjoy enormous sales. If most people think as I do, it will.” - -Analytical, too, is Miss Violet Olive Johnson, who writes to us from -Portland, Oregon: - - “I think ‘The Accusing Voice’ is of the best, because the - denouement is so unexpected, yet so logical. I liked ‘Hark! the - Rattle’ on account of its touch of fantasy. ‘The Dead Man’s - Tale’ was a masterpiece, I thought. And it’s right in line with - modern spiritualism, too. It conveys quite a definite lesson in - regeneration, even if it does deal with a disembodied spirit. I - agree with Anthony M. Rud, in The Eyrie, that such a magazine - as WEIRD TALES is not only clean, but contains the ingredients - of wholesome, moral lessons. And it certainly is unique and - hair-raising. I didn’t experience a dull moment!” - -At the risk of emulating the talented authors of patent medicine almanacs -and overlapping the space vouchsafed The Eyrie, we must quote a few brief -excerpts from a few of the letters we got in that second grab: - - “... Some of the tales made me shiver when I read them here - alone at night.... Two things in particular I like about your - magazine: the very large number of short stories and the fact - that there is only one serial.... But there is one thing I - don’t favor: the sensational, blood-and-thunder titles of some - of the stories. Something like ‘The Accusing Voice,’ ‘The - Place of Madness,’ ‘The Weaving Shadows,’ is ‘woolly’ enough - for most of us, I should say. ‘The Skull,’ ‘The Ghoul and the - Corpse,’ ‘The Grave,’ are all too—you see what I mean?”—F. L. - K., Indianapolis. - - “I have just finished the first installment of ‘The Thing of - a Thousand Shapes.’ It is fine, and any one who has a good - imagination should not ‘start it late at night.’ I want to - congratulate you on your fine magazine.”—Victor Wilson, Hazen, - Pa. - - “... Just finished reading the first number, and I agree with - Mr. Anthony M. Rud that this magazine should be welcomed by - the public. I have often wondered why it was that the ordinary - magazine would not publish out-of-the-ordinary stories—that is, - stories of the occult or weird.... One thing I know: the name - of Edgar Allen Poe will live long after the names of some of - the writers of commonplace fiction are forgotten.”—J. O. O’C., - Raleigh, N. C. - - “... May I add my congratulations on the success of your work - which resulted in that first number of WEIRD TALES? To choose - a name for a new magazine and then live up to that name so - thoroughly is hardly ever done so well. I shall look for future - numbers of the magazine with interest.”—R. M., St. Petersburg, - Fla. - - “... Truly, I never read such weird tales before, and I am - anxious to read more....”—Harry M. Worth, Brooklyn, N. Y. - - “... It offers the utmost in thrilling fiction and a - pleasurable excursion from this land of realism. I wish you the - greatest success and am looking forward anxiously to your next - copy.”—Mrs. Glenn Thompson Cummings, Lansing, Mich. - - “I am a lover of all fiction that deals with the - supernatural.... I eagerly devoured your March issue from - cover to cover.... The story that impressed me the most - was ‘The Ghost Guard,’ as it was a combination of the - practical and supernatural, blended together in an exciting - narrative....”—Dean Smith. - - “... I am a soldier in the Coast Artillery and am stationed on - an island twenty-five miles from land.... The news company - that furnishes our post exchange with magazines sent one copy - of your magazine, and I bought it right away.... I think it is - the best book I ever read.... You have made a wonderful start, - and if they are all as good each month you may be sure I will - never miss a copy....”—Private R. S. Bray, 133d Co. Detachment, - Fort Terry, N. Y. - -When we began writing the copy for this month’s Eyrie we thought we’d -end it with some pertinent remarks on a matter that has aroused our -curiosity—to-wit: the preponderance of cats and Chinamen in weird -literature—but we’ll have to let it go. No space. You’ll find it in The -Eyrie for June, however. - -You will also find, in the June WEIRD TALES, some of the most amazing -short stories and novelettes that ever swam into our ken. Three of them -in particular we earnestly recommend. They are more startling than any -we’ve ever published—and we can’t say more than that. - - THE EDITOR. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - -Finding “The Fountain of Youth” - -_A Long-Sought Secret, Vital to Happiness, Has Been Discovered._ - -_By H. M. Stunz_ - - _Alas! that spring should vanish with the rose!_ - _That youth’s sweet-scented manuscript should close!_ - —OMAR KHAYYAM. - -A secret vital to human happiness has been discovered. An ancient problem -which, sooner or later, affects the welfare of virtually every man and -woman, has been solved. As this problem undoubtedly will come to you -eventually, if it has not come already, I urge you to read this article -carefully. It may give you information of a value beyond all price. - -This newly-revealed secret is not a new “philosophy” of financial -success. It is not a political panacea. It has to do with something of -far greater moment to the individual—success and happiness in love and -marriage—and there is nothing theoretical, imaginative or fantastic -about it, because it comes from the coldly exact realms of science and -its value has been proved. It “works.” And because it does work—surely, -speedily and most delightfully—it is one of the most important -discoveries made in many years. Thousands already bless it for having -rescued them from lives of disappointment and misery. Millions will -rejoice because of it in years to come. - -The peculiar value of this discovery is that it removes physical -handicaps which, in the past, have been considered inevitable and -irremediable. I refer to the loss of youthful animation and a -waning of the vital forces. These difficulties have caused untold -unhappiness—failures, shattered romances, mysterious divorces. True -happiness does not depend on wealth, position or fame. Primarily, it is -a matter of health. Not the inefficient, “half-alive” condition which -ordinarily passes as “health,” but the abundant, vibrant, magnetic -vitality of superb manhood and womanhood. - -[Illustration] - -Unfortunately, this kind of health is rare. Our civilization, with its -wear and tear, rapidly depletes the organism and, in a physical sense, -old age comes on when life should be at its prime. - -But this is not a tragedy of our era alone. Ages ago a Persian poet, -in the world’s most melodious epic of pessimism, voiced humanity’s -immemorial complaint that “spring should vanish with the rose” and the -song of youth too soon come to an end. And for centuries before Omar -Khayyam wrote his immortal verses, science had searched—and in the -centuries that have passed since then has continued to search—without -halt, for the fabled “fountain of youth,” an infallible method of -renewing energy lost or depleted by disease, overwork, worry, excesses or -advancing age. - -Now the long search has been rewarded. A “fountain of youth” has been -found! Science announces unconditionally that youthful vigor can be -restored quickly and safely. Lives clouded by weakness can be illumined -by the sunlight of health and joy. Old age, in a sense, can be kept at -bay and youth made more glorious than ever. And the discovery which makes -these amazing results possible is something any man or woman, young or -old, can easily use in the privacy of the home, unknown to relative, -friend or acquaintance. - -The discovery had its origin in famous European laboratories. Brought to -America, it was developed into a product that has given most remarkable -results in thousands of cases, many of which had defied all other -treatments. In scientific circles the discovery has been known and used -for several years and has caused unbounded amazement by its quick, -harmless, gratifying action. Now in convenient tablet form, under the -name of Korex compound, it is available to the general public. - -Any one who finds the youthful stamina ebbing, life losing its charm -and color or the feebleness of old age coming on too soon, can obtain -a double-strength treatment of this compound, sufficient for ordinary -cases, under a positive guarantee that it costs nothing if it fails and -only $2 if it produces prompt and gratifying results. In average cases, -the compound often brings about amazing benefits in from twenty-four to -forty-eight hours. - -Simply write in confidence to the Melton Laboratories, 833 Massachusetts -Bldg., Kansas City, Mo., and this wonder restorative will be mailed to -you in a plain wrapper. You may enclose $2 or, if you prefer, just send -your name without money and pay the postman $2 and postage when the -parcel is delivered. In either case, if you report after a week that the -Korex compound has not given satisfactory results, your money will be -refunded immediately. The Melton Laboratories are nationally known and -thoroughly reliable. Moreover, their offer is fully guaranteed, so no -one need hesitate to accept it. If you need this remarkable scientific -rejuvenator, write for it today. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - -2 TIRES FOR $9.95 - -(SIZE 28 × 3) - -FREE TUBE WITH EACH TIRE - -Standard Tire Prices Smashed Again! - -—and some sensational cut, too! Think of it—two tires for almost the -price of one and a FREE inner tube with each tire. _No double treads or -sewed tires._ Thousands of customers are getting maximum mileage out of -these tires, and you, too, can get up to - -10,000 MILES - -Here’s your opportunity—if you act at once. This is a special lot -selected for this record-breaking sale. Order today—right now. They’re -going fast. - -_Compare These Amazing Reductions on Two Tires of Same Size_ - - SIZE 1 TIRE 2 TIRES - 28 × 3 $6.75 $9.95 - 30 × 3 7.25 11.95 - 30 × 3½ 8.25 13.95 - 32 × 3½ 9.45 15.95 - 31 × 4 10.65 17.45 - 32 × 4 11.85 19.75 - 33 × 4 12.45 20.90 - 34 × 4 13.25 21.95 - -Prices on larger sizes quoted on request. Prices f. o. b. Chicago. - -SEND NO MONEY! - -We ship subject to examination, by Express before payment of C. O. D. -charge, or by Parcel Post after payment of C. O. D. charge. Examine tires -on arrival, and if not absolutely satisfied, return same unused and your -money will be promptly refunded. Specify straight side or clincher. ACT -NOW. - - ROCKWELL TIRE COMPANY - 1506 S. Michigan Ave., Dept. 40-E, Chicago, Ill. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - -Cord Tires at Cut Prices - -$6.95 30 × 3½ - -NO PRICE ADVANCE on GEM CORDS—the tire that gives 8000 miles satisfactory -service. Cut your tire costs by these excellent tires at low prices. Best -tire ever seen. - -SEND NO MONEY - -All GEM CORDS shipped C. O. D. Take tire home and examine it; if it isn’t -the best buy you ever made, return the tire and get all your money back. - - Size Cords Tubes - 30 × 3 $6.15 $1.05 - 30 × 3½ 6.95 1.25 - 32 × 3½ 8.95 1.55 - 31 × 4 9.95 1.65 - 32 × 4 10.75 1.75 - 33 × 4 11.25 1.90 - 34 × 4 11.95 1.95 - 32 × 4½ 13.75 2.00 - 33 × 4½ 14.45 2.10 - 34 × 4½ 14.95 2.25 - 35 × 4½ 15.45 2.50 - 36 × 4½ 15.95 2.50 - -_Do Not Delay. Order your season’s cord tires now at these Bargain -Prices. 5% discount for cash with order._ - - GEM RUBBER CO., 1315 S. Oakley Blvd. - Dept. 56 Chicago, Illinois - - * * * * * - -GENUINE GERMAN MAUSER - -Half pre-war prices - -[Illustration] - -PERFECT SAFETY DEVICE - -Latest model 9 shot automatic. Shoots standard cartridges—lies flat in -pocket—World’s famous Luger 30 cal. $20.75—Hand Ejector Revolver, swing -out cylinder 32 cal. $16.95. 38 cal. $17.95. $12.95 25 cal. 32 cal. $13.95 - -All brand new latest models. Guaranteed genuine imported. - -_Pay on Delivery Plus Postage_ - -SEND NO MONEY - -_Satisfaction guaranteed or money promptly refunded_ - -$6.95 - -25 cal. Pocket Automatic; 25 cal. Blue Steel Army Automatic $8.45; 32 -cal. $10.45; Officer’s Automatic, 3 safeties, 25 cal. $11.95; Military -Trench Automatic, 32 cal. 10 shot extra magazine FREE, $11.65. Just like -you used over there. Imported Top Brake Revolver. 32 cal. $8.65; 38 cal. -$8.95. - - Universal Sales Co. 165 B’way Desk 234 New York - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - -CATARRH - -TREATED FREE 10 DAYS to prove quick relief. Dr. Coffee had catarrh, -deafness, head noises. He found a treatment that gave complete relief. -Thousands used it successfully. Want you to try it free. Write - - Dr. W. O. COFFEE - Dept. 1726 Davenport, Iowa. - - * * * * * - -_How My Wife Learned to Play the Piano in 90 Days_ - -A husband’s story of the fulfillment of a life-long wish—by a new, easy, -spare-time method which has brought the joy of music into thousands of -silent homes. - -[Illustration] - -From boyhood, I vowed that if ever I had a home of my own there would -be music in it. No wife for me unless she could play some instrument, -and play it well. My new home must have no dull, bored evenings, no -monotonous Sunday afternoons. I wanted the gaiety, the mental and -physical stimulus, the whole-hearted, genuine joy of music. No girl could -capture me without the lure of musical skill. - -But one day Beth came along knowing not one note from another, yet with a -merry, humming tune forever on her lips, and a song in her heart for me. -And Beth is Mrs. Taylor today. A piano graced our new home, but somehow -the old vow was forgotten, and stayed forgotten until Jimmy Jr., and Beth -No. 2 were quite some youngsters. - -Then along about the time the novelty of parenthood began to wear off a -bit, the old vow came back. And one evening I spoke out with a suddenness -that surprised me, “Beth, I’d give a hundred dollars if you could play -something—a piano, violin, banjo, ukulele—something, _anything_.” Beth -looked so hurt I was immediately ashamed of myself, so I said no more, -and the matter dropped, as I thought regretfully, forever. - -About three months later I got home early one night, and I heard the -old dead piano come to life—sounded good, too, first a little jazzy -piece, then a sweet plantation melody. “Company to supper; I wonder -who?” I thought; and I crept to the parlor door to see. There at the -piano was _Beth_ playing, and the two kiddies beating time. She saw me, -and stopped, “Oh,” she cried, “I’m so sorry!” “Believe me, I’m not,” I -shouted, and I grabbed the whole family up in my arms. - -“But, Jim, I wanted to wait and surprise you when I could really play. -I’m learning fast, but it’s only three months since I found out”—“Found -out what?” I said. Beth began to cry. “I know!” Jimmy, Jr., piped up, -“Mother found out the way to learn music just like I am learning to read -in school—only lots easier.” - -Well, that little musical party lasted all the evening. It was a howling -success. When the kiddies had gone singing to bed, my wife showed me the -marvelous new method by which she had learned to play in three months’ -spare time. - -Jimmy Jr. had told the truth; the method was so simple and easy that any -one at all from 8 years up could learn by it. By this method the U. S. -School of Music, the largest in the world, has already trained over three -hundred thousand people, teaching the playing of any musical instrument -almost in the same way a school-child learns to read. But very much -faster because older children and grown people have better trained minds, -and know how to study and think. - -When first learning to read you look at every letter separately and spell -out every word, c-a-t, m-a-n. Later you do not see the letters; you see -the words as units, “cat,” “man.” By and by longer words become units -to you, and you find that whole _expressions_, like “up the steps,” -“on the train,” no longer are seen as separate words, but immediately, -at one instant, without spelling, without thinking words, you see each -expression in the unit form. - -This skill in seeing in units develops until you see and know as units -hundreds of long familiar phrases; and it is even entirely possible, -if you wish, to easily increase your reading speed four or five times -the average, grasping paragraph thoughts complete, sensing a whole page -instantly, recognizing every part, registering and remembering all, with -your pleasure exactly the same as the slower reader. - -The same easy understanding and complete enjoyment is similarly a part of -the new way. The alphabet of music follows the alphabet of language. Each -note is a letter, and playing is practically spelling the notes together -correctly. The first note on the staff above is F. Whether you sing or -play, it is always F. The four notes shown above are F-A-C-E, easy to -remember because they spell “face.” Certain strings on mandolin, certain -keys on piano, certain parts of all instruments, are these same notes. -Once you learn them, playing melodies is a matter of _acting_ what you -_see_. - -And here is where “familiar phrases” come in—the “big secret.” It is so -simple you probably have already guessed it. The “familiar phrases” of -music are its harmonies. Just as you instantly recognize the countless -phrases of speech, so the relatively few of music are quickly a habit -with you. You play almost before you realize it—and every step is real -fun, fascinating, simple, interesting, almost too good to be true. - -Remember, neither my wife nor most of the 300,000 other musicians trained -by this method knew anything about music. Beth mastered the piano; she -could just as easily have mastered anything else. Jimmy, Jr., is now -taking up violin, and my daughter is learning singing. Right at home, -no costly teacher, no classes at inconvenient hours, no useless study -and practice. No numbers, no tricks, no makeshifts. But instead a sound -musical education learning by notes. The intricacies of music reduced to -a most amazing simplicity able to develop the inborn talent, which is a -part of every person on this earth. - -When I told Beth I was writing this out to put in a magazine she told -me to be sure and say that the school will gladly send a free book -explaining everything, called “Music Lessons in Your Own Home,” and that -right now there is a special short time Reduced Price Offer being made to -music lovers. The book is free; asking for it obligates you not at all, -but you should send for it right away before all copies may be gone. - - JAMES W. TAYLOR. - -SUCCESS - -“Since I’ve been taking your lessons I’ve made over $200 with my violin. -Your lessons surely are fine.”—Melvin Freeland, Macopin, N. J. - -“When I started with you I knew nothing about the Cornet or music, but -now I can play almost any piece of music.”—Kasson Swan, Denmark, Col. -Co., Nova Scotia. - -“I want to extend the heartiest approval of your Piano Course. It has -done more for me than years of other lessons.”—Moxie N. Lewis, 319 -Jefferson, Neosho, Mo. - -WHICH INSTRUMENT - -do you want to learn how to play the new, quick way? Courses for -beginners or advanced pupils. - - Piano - Organ - Violin - Banjo - Clarinet - Flute - Harp - Cornet - Cello - Guitar - Hawaiian - Mandolin - Drums and Traps - Harmony and Composition - Sight Singing - Ukulele - Piccolo - Trombone - Saxophone - Steel Guitar - Voice and Speech Culture - Automatic Finger Control - -Mr. Taylor is enthusiastic. He has a right to be. Yet when you read the -facts in our book you will appreciate that his opinion is _conservative_. -You, too, can learn your favorite instrument or to sing. - -Mail the coupon below to the U. S. School of Music, 405 Brunswick -Building, New York City. Or send a postcard. But act at once. Do not -delay. - -Please write name and address plainly so that there will be no difficulty -in booklet reaching you. - - U. S. School of Music, - 405 Brunswick Bldg., New York City - - Please send your free book, “Music Lessons in Your Own Home,” - and particulars of your special offer. I am interested in the - following course: - - ______________________________ - Name of Instrument or Course - - Name _________________________ - Please write plainly - - Address ______________________ - - City___________ State_________ - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: WANTED—for murder!] - -$1,000 Reward - -In a dirty, forlorn shack by the river’s edge they found the mutilated -body of Genevieve Martin. Her pretty face was swollen and distorted. -Marks on the slender throat showed that the girl had been brutally choked -to death. Who had committed this ghastly crime? No one had seen the girl -and her assailant enter the cottage. No one had seen the murderer depart. -How could he be brought to justice. - -Crimes like this have been solved—are being solved every day by Finger -Print Experts. Every day we read in the papers of their exploits, hear of -the mysteries they solve, the criminals they identify, the rewards they -win. Finger Print Experts are always in the thick of the excitement, the -heroes of the hour. - -Not Experienced Detectives Just Ordinary Men - -Within the past few years, scores of men, men with no police experience, -men with just ordinary grade school educations, have become Finger Print -Experts. You can become a Finger Print Expert, too. Can you imagine a -more fascinating line of work than this? 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Mail it -today. - - University of Applied Science - 1920 Sunnyside Ave., Dept. 13-95, Chicago, Ill. - -Course in Secret Service FREE - - University of Applied Science, Dept. 13-95, - 1920 Sunnyside Avenue, Chicago, Illinois - - Please send me full information on your course in Finger - Print Identification and about FREE Course in Secret Service - Intelligence. 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