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diff --git a/old/69608-0.txt b/old/69608-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 474deb4..0000000 --- a/old/69608-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17680 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Weird Tales, Volume 1, Number 4, June, -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 4, June, 1923 - The unique magazine - -Author: Various - -Editor: Edwin Baird - -Release Date: December 22, 2022 [eBook #69608] - -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 -4, JUNE, 1923 *** - -Transcriber’s Note: Stories that were originally split over pages, with -adverts and/or other stories in between, have been recombined. - - - - -[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 - - - - -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 4 - - - - -_Contents for June, 1923_ - - _Sixteen Thrilling Short Stories_ - _Two Complete Novelettes_ - _Two Two-Part Stories_ - _Interesting, Odd and Weird Happenings_ - - - THE EVENING WOLVES PAUL ELLSWORTH TRIEM 5 - _An Exciting Tale of Weird Events_ - - DESERT MADNESS HAROLD FREEMAN MINERS 19 - _A Fanciful Novel of the Red Desert_ - - THE JAILER OF SOULS HAMILTON CRAIGIE 32 - _A Powerful Novel of Sinister Madmen that Mounts to an - Astounding Climax_ - - JACK O’ MYSTERY EDWIN MacLAREN 49 - _A Modern Ghost Story_ - - OSIRIS ADAM HULL SHIRK 55 - _A Weird Tale of an Egyptian Mummy_ - - THE WELL JULIAN KILMAN 57 - _A Short Story_ - - THE PHANTOM WOLFHOUND ADELBERT KLINE 60 - _A Spooky Yarn by the Author of “The Thing of a Thousand - Shapes”_ - - THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE EDGAR ALLAN POE 64 - _A Masterpiece of Weird Fiction_ - - THE MOON TERROR A. G. BIRCH 72 - _Final Thrilling Installment of the Mysterious Chinese - Moon Worshipers_ - - THE MAN THE LAW FORGOT WALTER NOBLE BURNS 81 - _A Remarkable Story of the Dead Returned to Life_ - - THE BLADE OF VENGEANCE GEORGE WARBURTON LEWIS 86 - _A Powerful, Gripping Story Well Told_ - - THE GRAY DEATH LOUAL B. SUGARMAN 91 - _Horrifying and Incredible Tale of the Amazon Valley_ - - THE VOICE IN THE FOG HENRY LEVERAGE 95 - _Another Thriller by the Author of “Whispering Wires”_ - - THE INVISIBLE TERROR HUGH THOMASON 100 - _An Uncanny Tale of the Jungle_ - - THE ESCAPE HELEN ROWE HENZE 103 - _A Short Story_ - - THE SIREN TARLETON COLLIER 105 - _A Storiette That Is “Different”_ - - THE MADMAN HERBERT HIPWELL 107 - _A Night of Horror in the Mortuary_ - - THE CHAIR DR. HARRY E. MERENESS 109 - _An Electrocution Vividly Described by an Eyewitness_ - - THE CAULDRON PRESTON LANGLEY HICKEY 111 - _True Adventures of Terror_ - - THE EYRIE BY THE EDITOR 113 - -For Advertising Rates in WEIRD TALES apply to YOUNG & WARD, Advertising -Managers, 168 North Michigan Blvd., Chicago, Ill. - - * * * * * - -[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. - - * * * * * - -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 FOUR - - 25c a Copy - - JUNE, 1923 - - Subscription $3.00 A YEAR - $3.50 IN CANADA - - - - -_Paul Ellsworth Triem’s Latest Novel_ - -The Evening Wolves - -_An Exciting Tale of Weird Events_ - - -_CHAPTER ONE_ - -AH WING RECEIVES A CLIENT - -[Illustration] - -A taxicab stopped on the corner, and two people got out. They formed a -decidedly incongruous pair; for the first to alight was a diminutive -Chinese boy, scantily dressed, while his companion appeared to be a -portly white man. - -It was impossible to be sure of this fact, however, as this second -passenger wore a long overcoat, with its ulster collar turned up around -his face, and a dark cloth cap with the visor drawn down over his -forehead and eyes. - -Evidently the cab driver had been paid in advance, for he swung out from -the curb as soon as his fares had dismounted, and was soon out of sight. -The Chinese boy glanced at his companion, then set off silently up a -street whose central portion was paved with cobblestones. - -He seemed to know just where he was going. He paused only once, to cast a -fleeting glance over his shoulder. Then he resumed his journey. - -He had seen that the man in the ulster was following; and now, after -traversing half a block of squalid, deserted street, the youngster turned -abruptly into a pestilential-looking alley. This alley lay close to the -top of a hill, and for a moment the man and the boy, who appeared to be -his guide, could look down over the roofs to where the gay lights of -Chinatown twinkled alluringly. - -Presently the diminutive Oriental paused just outside a doorway. The -man who had been following him came up, with a curious suggestion of -eagerness and suspicion. Looking over the shoulder of the figure before -him, he was able to make out the entrance to a narrow flight of unlighted -stairs, which plunged steeply into the earth beneath a dilapidated -building. - -“Do we have to go down there, boy?” the man demanded. - -“All a-same down here, master,” the youngster replied. “You come close—I -show you!” - -He began to descend as he spoke; and the man, after a moment of -hesitation, plunged through the doorway after him. His manner was that of -one who is taking a horribly unpleasant remedy, hoping to cure a still -more horrible disease. - -The diminutive Chinaman reached the bottom of the stairs and waited for -his companion. When he felt the man’s heavy hand on his shoulder, he -turned to his right, advancing cautiously through an almost impenetrable -darkness. - -There was a smell of dry rot in this basement, and around their feet rats -scampered and squeaked. The man’s hand shook, and his breath came with a -hissing sound through his clenched teeth. - -“Now we go down again, master,” the boy announced presently. He had -paused and turned again to the right. “You keep close—I show you!” - -A step at a time, they descended a second flight of stairs. On either -side were rough stone walls, powdery with mildew. The man discovered this -with his free left hand. Strange odors came to him. Abruptly a bell rang, -somewhere in the bowels of the darkness below them. - -The boy stopped in his tracks. - -“Now you go down, master,” he commanded. “Ah Wing waiting for you—you go -slow. Goo’-by!” - -He slipped out from under the heavy hand that would have detained him, -and the man heard him go scampering like one of the rats up the stairs -and away through the upper corridors. - -Terror gripped the man left alone there on the stairs. He felt that he -was in a trap—and he had been evading traps so long now that they had -become an obsession with him. - -He cried out, hoarsely, and as he did so a door opened below and a flood -of light shone out. - -“Pray continue your descent, Colonel Knight,” a cultured voice commanded -from somewhere within the lighted room whose door had just opened. “The -stairs are quite secure, and I am awaiting you!” - -With a plunge that hinted at desperation, the man addressed as “Colonel -Knight” reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed to the door. He -paused there for a moment, till his eyes adjusted themselves to the -change in illumination. Then he stepped inside, and heard the heavy door -close behind him. - -The room he had entered was of considerable extent, but was almost -destitute of furniture. There were bare walls, dusty with green mildew; -and bare floors, covered with layers of dust and litter. There were two -chairs, one of which was already occupied. - -And as the newcomer’s eyes rested on the occupant of that chair, all his -doubts and fears returned to him. He had come to this unearthly spot -to get away from almost certain death. Now he was not certain that the -remedy would not prove worse than the disease. - -The man sitting there, facing him, was dressed like a Chinaman, in silk -trousers and coat, satin slippers, and black silk cap; but his eyes were -of a metallic gray, and his high, thin-bridged nose spoke of Nordic -blood. He would have been tall had he been standing. His hands were lying -passive in his lap, but they were the hands of a man of great physical -power. - -And above all these details and beyond them was something the man in the -ulster could not quite define—a radiation of power, as if the intellect -and will of this strange being seated before him saturated the atmosphere -of the empty room. - -“Pray be seated, Colonel Knight!” the man in the chair said courteously. -“I am glad to meet you. You have been recommended to me by a former -student of mine—you know that I take only a few cases. It will be best -for you to tell me your story, fully and accurately.” - -Colonel Knight lowered himself into the empty chair. His eyes still -peered out through the gap in his collar, and seemed to be fastened on -the face of the man before him. - -Then, slowly and grudgingly he removed his cap and turned down his -collar, disclosing the pouchy face of a man well advanced into middle -age. It was a face suggesting daring and resourcefulness, this face of -Colonel Knight; and for a few moments the two sat staring curiously at -each other. - -“I think I can condense that statement I have to make,” the white man -said finally. “I am a man of wealth. Five years ago, while traveling in -Europe, I had the misfortune to attract the attention of the greatest -gang of international thieves ever organized. Perhaps you have heard of -them? They were called ‘The Evening Wolves,’ and were led by a man who -called himself ‘Count von Hondon’.” - -He paused for an instant to regard his companion curiously, but the -Oriental merely bowed and sat impassively waiting. - -“These men must have followed me about for some time before they struck. -Finally they saw their chance. I was packed to leave Paris for Belgium, -and they undoubtedly figured that I would have much of wealth with me. - -“I did—but I had other things they had overlooked. I had my pistols, -and I am a dead shot. I killed two of the robbers, and the rest fled. I -supposed that would settle the matter, but I was mistaken. Five members -of the gang were left alive, and they swore to be revenged upon me. They -have followed me—” - -A bell rang shrilly somewhere close at hand, and Colonel Knight leaped -from his chair and looked wildly at his companion. - -“What was that?” he cried. “That bell rang when I was descending the -stairs—” - -“Someone followed you here,” the other replied, “and is now trying to -reach us. Pray continue!” - -“But that man upon the stairs—” - -“We will come to him presently. Let me ask you to finish!” - -“There is nothing more! I have been followed for years, and now a -physical trouble is added—my physician tells me I am going blind. I can’t -see to run—” - -The Chinaman eyed his companion deliberately. - -“Why lie to me, my friend?” he demanded presently. “You come to me for -help, and you wish to steal my ammunition! Now let me reconstruct your -story for you. You yourself are ‘Count von Hondon.’ You were the leader -of the master crooks called ‘The Evening Wolves.’ Five years ago you -and your men made a rich haul, and you decided that a time had come to -retire, or perhaps to go in by yourself. You departed, taking with you -the loot; and ever since it has been a running fight. - -“Your old comrades could have shot you outright, but that would not -restore to them the booty you stole. And you have not dared dispose of -it, because it was the only thing that stood between you and death! You -see, you can’t lie to me. Every lie carries its trade-mark with it, to -those who have eyes to see. Now I shall ask you but one question, and let -me warn you—if you lie now, you will never leave this place alive!” - -He stood up and thrust an accusing finger toward the cowering thief. - -“Tell me,” said the Chinaman, “the name of the person whom you and your -men robbed!” - -The beady eyes of Colonel Knight, or “Count von Hondon” as he had once -been known in every capital in Europe, glittered with suspicion and -fear. His breath caught in his throat, and he unfastened his collar with -trembling fingers. - -“The name,” he said hoarsely, “was—was—” - -Ah Wing crossed toward the heavy door and laid his hand upon the knob. -His metallic eyes blazed, and he looked down with fierce contempt upon -the man trembling before him. - -“Will you answer?” he cried. “Or shall I open this door?” - -“It was a woman!” Knight whimpered. “Her name was—Madame Celia—” - -He broke off and stared at the Chinaman, towering there before the -door. Ah Wing had neither spoken nor moved; but there was in the room a -disturbance as if a great voice had shouted out a curse. - -Slowly the Chinaman came back toward his visitor. His face now was the -impassive face of a carved Buddha. - -“Colonel Knight,” he said gently, “the high gods have undoubtedly brought -you to me. I am the only person in the world who can save you, for I -work outside of the laws of men. And I will take your case, now that I -fully understand it. But first I will ask you to show me the Resurrection -Pendant which you stole from Madame Celia!” - -The white man got slowly to his feet, his hands groping at his throat, -his eyes protruding, his face the color of dough. - -“The pendant!” he whispered through ashen lips. “The Resurrection -Pendant! You know—you have heard?” - -“Show me the Pendant,” repeated Ah Wing inexorably. “I know that you -brought it with you tonight, just as I know that you intended, in case I -refused to take your case, to try to disappear without returning to your -hotel. Show me the Pendant!” - -With faltering hands and without removing his fearful eyes from the face -of his companion, the crook reached inside his ulster and drew forth a -package wrapped in brown paper. This he slowly unfastened, disclosing a -jewel case. More and more slowly his fingers fumbled with the catch. - -There came a sound from the door—a voice that seemed to have difficulty -in filtering through the heavy panels. - -“Come out of that, Count! We got you over a barrel! Come out—” - -The massive door shook under a terrific blow, as from a sledge. The man -in the ulster seemed about to crumple to the floor. - -Ah Wing spoke coldly. - -“Show me the Pendant!” he repeated. “They cannot break down that door, -but if you trifle with me I will open it!” - -With hurried fingers the terror-stricken crook threw back the cover of -the jewel case, disclosing a mass of diamonds, intricately and skilfully -assembled into a great pendant. - - -_CHAPTER TWO_ - -UNDER CHINATOWN - -Ah Wing took a long stride, which brought him close to the man who held -the jewel case. - -The Oriental’s steely eyes were fastened unwaveringly upon the pendant, -whose history for half a century had been transcribed in suffering -and death. Misfortune had followed this unique assemblage of perfect -stones: death and insanity; the breaking of friendships; the treachery -of children toward parents; the murder of lover by lover. And now the -mysterious Chinaman seemed to have fallen under the spell of the gems, -for he was taking in every detail of their perfection. - -For a moment the assault upon the door had ceased, but now it was -continued. Heavy blows fell, and the walls of the subterranean apartment -shook. - -“It will not take your friends long to discover that they cannot reach us -by that route,” commented Ah Wing tranquilly, turning at last from his -inspection of the Resurrection Pendant. “The door has a middle sheeting -of boiler iron. It is bullet proof.” - -He reseated himself, motioning for Colonel Knight to do the same. -Absently he watched the white man close the jewel case, wrap it carefully -in brown paper, and return it to his ulster pocket. - -“And now,” continued the Chinaman, “I will ask you to tell me about these -men. You say there are five of them? Please describe them to me, one at -a time. Tell me all that you can remember as to physical and mental -characteristics—I want every detail you can give me.” - -Colonel Knight sat down heavily. It was obvious that the assault upon the -door was shaking his nerves so that he could hardly command his voice. -His eyes were the eyes of some hunted thing, which sees itself at the end -of a blind alley. - -With an evident effort, he tore his glance from the quivering panels and -fastened it on his companion. - -“Yes,” he said hollowly, “there are five of these men, and they have been -chosen from the elite of the criminal world. I myself selected them and -trained them. Each has his special ability. I will begin with the man -whom I considered the brainiest of them all—the one who was almost my -equal in planning and executing a really big robbery. His name is Monte -Jerome.” - -Suddenly the blows on the door ceased; and the room was so still, after -the ferocious assault, that it seemed to press on the ear drums of the -speaker. He winced and for a moment was silent. Then, resolutely he -continued: - -“Monte is thirty-five years old. He is less than five feet six, but is -broad shouldered and powerful. He grew up in the alleys of a large city. -He fought his way to the leadership of gang after gang, and at the time I -picked him up was looking for new worlds to conquer. I chose him because -of four qualities: his physical strength; his native cunning; his lack of -sentiment—or, as it is usually called, ‘mercy’—and his absolute freedom -from superstition. Monte believes in neither God, man, nor the devil. He -was my right-hand man—and it is to his merciless pursuit that I owe my -condition!” - -Ah Wing had drawn a note-book from his pocket and was jotting down data. -He glanced placidly toward the door, which was again shaking under a rain -of heavy blows. - -“Pray continue!” said he. - -Something of the Chinaman’s imperturbability was beginning to influence -the white man. He went on with greater assurance: - -“Next to Monte Jerome in total ability, I always placed the man we called -‘Doc.’ I never knew his real name. That was not important, as he went -under many aliases. Doc was my means of approach to the wealthy men -and women—and particularly the latter—upon whom I specialized. He is a -university man, and has lived among people of wealth and refinement much -of his life. - -“He has brains, but lacks the quality of ruthlessness so important in -really successful commercial crime. He is utterly selfish, I believe, -but certain necessary factors in his profession are revolting to him—and -he has never made the effort to put down this weakness. Physically he -is prepossessing: an inch or two over six feet in height, blue eyes, -light brown hair, splendid carriage; and possessed of the manners of a -Chesterfield.” - -A thin, faint voice came through the door, upon which the tattoo had -momentarily ceased: - -“We’ve got you, Count! Open that door, or we’ll gouge your eyes out when -we break in!” - -Ah Wing waved his hand affably toward the source of this ominous promise. - -“And our friend out there?” said he. “Is he one of those whom you have -described?” - -“I was just coming to him,” replied Colonel Knight, raising a shaking -hand to his forehead and mopping off the beaded perspiration. “That is -‘Billy the Strangler,’ and I think the ‘Kid’ is with him. Those were my -Apaches—my gun men—my killers. They are much alike. Both have cunning of -a low order; and persistence—they are like bloodhounds, once they are put -on the trail. - -“They have been Monte’s most useful tools in his pursuit of me. But both -are superstitious, and their native bloodthirstiness has grown on them -till they are little better than homicidal maniacs. The Strangler is tall -and slim, with high cheek bones and lean arms which seem to be threaded -with steel wires. The Kid is of medium height, with grey eyes and sandy -hair.” - -The assault on the door had again been discontinued. Suddenly there -came from directly overhead a sound of splintering boards, accompanied -by a rain of dust and bits of plaster. Knight sprang up and retreated, -snarling, toward a corner of the empty room. - -“Ah, I have been waiting to see if your old comrades would think of -that,” he commented. “It gives us a line on their resourcefulness.” - -Colonel Knight regarded him with drawn lips, which exposed his yellow -teeth. - -“For God’s sake, what are we to do?” he cried. “Are you armed? You sit -there like a statue—” - -“Pray continue your very interesting description,” suggested Ah Wing. -“There remains one of your band whom you have not described. I must know -about him—and then I will deal with this other matter!” - -For an instant the thief glared into the face of the man seated across -from him. What he read there steadied him a little, although the crash -of splintering boards from above told him that the men he had such good -reason to fear were meeting with less resistance in this direction than -they had encountered in their assault upon the door. - -“There remains but one,” he said hoarsely. “That is Louie Martin, my gem -expert. Martin is one of the best judges of diamonds and pearls in the -world. He is an expert in recutting and remounting stolen jewelry. And -he has a wide acquaintance among the crooked dealers of this country and -Europe—” - -An extensive area of plaster broke away suddenly and crashed down, -tumbling about the heads and shoulders of the two occupants of the room. -At the same instant the end of a heavy gas-pipe crashed through the -laths, and the voices of the men on the floor above were raised in a -shout of ferocious triumph. - -Ah Wing stood up deliberately and looked toward the ceiling. He seemed -to be measuring the progress of the men opposed to him. Then, without -hurrying he crossed the room toward a dimly lighted corner, where he -stooped and opened a small door in the wall. This door was built in -segments, like that of a safe; and was hinged with metal plates of -enormous strength. - -Colonel Knight, who cowered directly behind the Chinaman, felt a breath -of cool, moist air, smelling strongly of earthy decay, blowing up from -this diminutive doorway. - -“Kindly precede me, Colonel,” commanded Ah Wing. “Watch your step—the -going is rather precipitous!” - -Knight stooped and made his way through the opening. He found himself on -a stairway which went steeply down into utter darkness. - -A cloud of white dust filtered up into the light of the electric bulb; -and, as Ah Wing stood watching, a lithe human figure landed with a crash -on top of the heap of plaster and splintered boards and laths. - -In the same instant the Chinaman passed silently through the small -doorway, and his companion heard him slipping the bolts into place. - -The darkness which had suddenly clutched them was so intense that it -seemed to have physical substance. A squeaking sound from above brought -Knight’s face swiftly up. Something cold and reptilian flapped into his -eyes and, with another _squeak_, was gone. - -“Only a bat!” said Ah Wing softly. “Rest your hand on my shoulder and -feel your way a step at a time. I will turn on my flashlight!” - -A conical beam of light drilled through the darkness below them, and Ah -Wing’s companion saw that they were descending a narrow flight of stone -steps that seemed to terminate in a panel of utter blackness. The walls -on each side were damp; and pallid fungi had taken the place of the -mildew of the cellars above. - -“For God’s sake, where are we?” the white man demanded through chattering -teeth. “This looks like the shaft of a mine!” - -“This is part of the underground system which made Chinatown famous, -before the disaster of 1906,” replied the Oriental. “Few white men have -ever been down here—particularly of late years!” - -He paused. They had reached a narrow landing, from which passages -branched in half a dozen directions. Another descending stairway yawned -ahead. - -“If I were to leave you here,” smiled Ah Wing, “you would never find -your way out! You could not go back the way you have come, for there are -acute-angled branches which would confuse you. Most of them end in masses -of rubbish, easily dislodged by the unwary! But with me you are safe!” - -His voice had an ominous softness. Knight followed down along the second -flight of stairs. His heart was pounding. Suppose these crumbling walls -should collapse! Suppose this unearthly being, in whose hands his safety -lay, decided to rob him! - -Ah Wing spoke abruptly: - -“We have been following down the face of a hill. Now we reach the level, -and here we leave these catacombs!” - -He turned sharply to the left and led the way along a short passage which -terminated in a second diminutive door. Ah Wing shot back the bolts and -motioned for his companion to proceed him into the room beyond. - -Knight obeyed. Daylight was there—white, blazing daylight! He blinked as -he crept through the opening. - -Next moment he tried to cry out. An arm had passed in front of his body, -pinioning him. In the same instant a sinewy hand came close to his face, -and there was a little tinkle of broken glass—a diminutive globule had -been broken under his nose. - -The thief struggled to turn his head aside, fought to keep from breathing -in the stupefying fumes; but with a smothering gasp he surrendered. - -He breathed deeply, and as he did so a sudden feeling of lightness and -of expansion came upon him. In the act of wondering stupidly what this -substance was that the Chinaman had forced upon him, his mind went blank. - -Ah Wing continued for a moment to hold his hand over the mouth and -nostrils of his victim. Then he carried Knight across the room and laid -him on a divan. Turning deliberately, he pressed an electric button. - -Somewhere in the brooding silence of the building, beyond this room, a -deep throated bell rang clamorously. - - -_CHAPTER THREE_ - -THE EVENING WOLVES - -High in an apartment house, overlooking a street and something of the -city, Monte Jerome, leader of the Evening Wolves, sat at his ease, a -cigarette in the corner of his thin, merciless mouth, a telephone within -reach. - -From the back rooms of the apartment came the sound of heavy breathing, -intermingled with an energetic and unmusical snore. Louie Martin, gem -expert for the gang, and “Doc,” their society specialist, were sleeping. - -Monte listened critically to the heavy breathing. He was an expert in -such matters, and his seasoned judgment told him that neither of his -comrades was faking sleep. - -With a nod of satisfaction, he stood up and walked soundlessly into the -corridor connecting the rooms, stopping first in that occupied by “Doc,” -and then in the back room where Louie Martin was sleeping. In each room -he paused long enough to make a thorough search of the clothing of the -sleeping robber. - -Monte went expeditiously through all the pockets, and even examined -the linings. Just a little exhibition of the honor that obtains among -thieves: Monte Jerome knew that his leadership depended on his ability to -command his companions’ unwilling respect, and he was taking no chances. - -“I got a hunch Doc is thinking of ditching the gang, and going it for -himself,” Monte murmured as he returned toward the front room. “If he -thinks—” - -The ’phone bell rang suddenly, and the man on duty crossed to the -instrument. - -“Yes?” he said.... “Oh, hello, Billy.... What’s that—Hell’s bells! Got -away! Get busy and find him—” - -The voice of the Strangler came to him over the wire. - -“Keep your shirt on, Chief!” it commanded. “You better come down here -and see for yourself what we was up against!” - -Two minutes later Monte was shaking Louie Martin awake. - -“Come to life!” Monte grated. “The Count has made his getaway! You get -into your clothes and tend ’phone! This is one hell of a mess!” - -Martin climbed sluggishly and unwillingly out of bed. - -“You’ve been running things,” he snarled. “If you’ve got ’em in a mess, -it’s no one’s fault but your own!” - - * * * * * - -At a corner on the outskirts of Chinatown, Monte alighted from his taxi. -This was a special machine, owned and operated by a crook who dealt -indiscriminately in transportation, dope and bootleg whisky. - -Monte commanded this worthy citizen to await his return, and plunged into -a labyrinth of narrow streets and alleys. - -A shrill whistle sounded presently, and he saw the Strangler beckoning -him from a doorway. Crossing over, Monte followed his henchman into an -alley, down a flight of narrow stairs, and into an unlighted basement. -Here they were joined by the “Kid,” who carried an electric torch. - -“Come on, Chief,” the “Kid” commanded. “We’ll show you first what we was -up against—watch your step! If you stub your toe you’ll land in hell!” - -They turned and went down another stairway, narrower and steeper than -the first. At the bottom their way was barred by a heavy door, studded -with great iron bolts. In one place the wood had been battered away, -disclosing the gleaming surface of a steel panel. - -“We followed the Count here, and thought we had him cornered,” the “Kid” -drawled, rolling his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other -and regarding Monte through lazy, sardonic eyes. “When we saw we couldn’t -get through this way, we went up to the floor above and come at him -through the ceiling. Come along—we’ll show you!” - -They went back up one flight of stairs and entered a room which evidently -had long been unused. Its walls were crumbling, and in the middle a great -hole had been torn in the floor. The Strangler, who was leading the way, -crossed over to this opening and unhesitatingly disappeared through it. -Next moment a yellow light filtered up through the opening. - -“Down you go, Chief,” commanded the “Kid.” “This was the door we made!” - -Monte made his way down through the opening, landing on the upper of -two chairs which had been piled precariously together to assist in -the descent. He was followed by the “Kid,” and the three crooks stood -examining the room in which Ah Wing and Colonel Knight had held their -conference. - -Monte spoke with a snarl. - -“All right, you two!” he cried, “Here is where he was! Where is he now? -Come across with your alibi!” - -His two companions exchanged significant glances and the “Kid” took a -slouching step closer to Monte. - -“Look here, Chief,” said he, “it ain’t gonna be healthy for you to -talk that way to me! I’m not spielin’ no alibi. What I’m givin’ you is -straight goods, and you better get that twist out of your mush and act -like a gentleman!” - -He paused; and his two crumpled ears, which spoke of vicissitudes in the -prize ring, grew red as a rooster’s comb. His glassy gray eyes glared -unblinkingly at Monte. - -The latter was not afraid of either of these men, or of both of them -together. Monte had the unflinching courage of the perfect animal. But he -had no notion of breaking up a gang which might prove useful to him. - -“All right, boys,” he agreed, more pacifically, although his dark eyes -continued to glow like coals. “If you can afford to take it easy, you got -nothing on me! Tell me what happened.” - -“That’s more like it,” the “Kid” growled. “Now you’re talking like a -gentleman, Chief! Well, we follows the Count here, and thinks we has him -holed up. We can’t bust down that door—this is an old Chink gambling -hell, and everything is stacked against a fellow that wants to get in. -But we comes down through the roof—” - -Suddenly the “Kid” paused. From somewhere behind there had come a sound -as of the opening of a door. The eyes of his two companions followed his -and together they stood, rigid and alert. - -Slowly the back wall of the room opened out toward them. Unconsciously, -the crooks shrank closer together. Their faces were drawn, their figures -rigid. - -The panel swung fully open, and a figure appeared in it. It was the form -of a tall man, clad in black silk. - -The three crooks stood staring at him silently. So unexpected had been -his appearance that it had affected them with a sort of paralysis. Their -mouths gaped open and their eyes bulged. - -Serenely, the intruder stood looking down upon them; and then, with a -courteous wave of his hand, he spoke. - -“Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen!” said he. “My little affairs can wait—I -will return later!” - -He turned, and next moment the panel had swung silently shut behind him. - -Monte Jerome was the first of the three to recover. - -“Come on—we’ve got to get him!” he cried. - -“That was the Chink we saw spieling with the Count,” the “Kid” cried -hoarsely. “But, for the love of cripe, how did he get here?” - -Monte snarled wolfishly: - -“Ask _him_ that! We’ve got to bust through here—” - -His compact body landed against the panel. It shook, but refused to yield. - -“Come back here! Now, all together!” bellowed Monte. - -The three leaped forward and struck the partition. - -This time it swung inward, slowly and without a sound. The crooks leaped -through the opening, and the “Kid” flashed his torch. They were standing -just inside a vast, windowless room, at whose farther side they had a -glimpse of sagging timbers and ruined walls. Nowhere was there a sign of -the man who had eluded them. - -“Get a move on!” Monte growled throatily. His lip drew up and he snarled -at his companions. “A hell of a bunch of crooks, we are! Why didn’t you -take a shot at him, when you saw he was going to make a getaway?” - -The “Kid” glared back. - -“Cut out that kind of talk, Chief! You got a gat, and two hands! He -buffaloed you just like he did us! Be a sport and take your medicine!” - -A determined search of the ruined chamber yielded no results. The “Kid” -dropped to his stomach and wormed his way under the mass of timbers at -the farther side. He found the beginning of a stone-lined tunnel, which -dipped abruptly into the earth. - -Damp, mouldy air fanned his cheeks; and as he crouched, motionless, -listening, a distant reverberation came to him from the bowels of the -earth. It sounded like the clanking of a great iron door. - -“Let me out of this!” he growled, as he backed toward his companions. “We -got a fat chance of following that yellow devil into his hole. You go, if -you want to!” - -Monte shook his head. He had regained his poise, and he had been thinking. - -“No use trying to follow,” he admitted. “We got to comb Chinatown for the -two of them. They can’t live down in that burrow forever. But why did -this duck show himself? He must have known we were here—he could hear us -talking!” - -The “Kid” smiled craftily. - -“Maybe him and the Count left something,” he suggested. “We better have a -look!” - -“No, they didn’t leave nothing. I would have seen it if they had. I got -an idea the Chink _wanted us to see him_! He stood there with his face -turned into the light. Well, we got to find him! That’s flat!” - - -_CHAPTER FOUR_ - -THE MAN IN THE LIGHTED ROOM - -The wolves shifted their quarters that night to a rooming-house on the -edge of Chinatown, and the search for Colonel Knight and his mysterious -companion, the tall Chinaman, began. - -For three days they worked feverishly. Monte Jerome seemed never to -sleep, and his temper was not at all improved by the ordeal. He drove his -companions fiercely, and only the fact that they were playing for big -stakes prevented open rebellion. - -On the fourth day Monte and the “Kid,” who were loitering, alert but -almost hopeless, in the entrance to a building in one of the narrow -streets of the Oriental quarter, caught sight of a figure disappearing -through a doorway. It was a tall figure, partly concealed by a light -overcoat; but both of them leaped forward at the same instant. - -“That was the Chink, sure as God made little red apples!” the “Kid” -snapped. - -They crossed the street. Several automobiles were drawn up close to the -curb, among them a big blue limousine from which the Chinaman had stepped -a moment before they identified him. Monte approached a well-dressed -gentleman, who had just come out of the building, and asked him what was -going on inside. - -“This is the fall exhibition of the Iconoclasts,” the stranger explained -good-naturedly. - -He seemed to be sizing up the two crooks. - -“I think you boys would enjoy it,” he added mischievously. “The admission -is only fifty cents.” - -Monte and the “Kid” bought tickets, and presently they entered a big -room with a high ceiling, upon whose walls were hung a number of gaudy -paintings. The newcomers stared round at the fifty or more spectators who -were making the rounds of the gallery. - -“Hell!” growled the “Kid,” “this ain’t no place for an honest strongarm -man—Let’s beat it and send for Doc!” - -Monte gripped his arm. - -“Look!” he said under his breath. “Over there near the corner!” - -The “Kid” looked stealthily as directed, and perceived the tall man in -the gray topcoat. He was standing with his back to them, examining a red -and yellow daub that looked like an omelette liberally seasoned with -paprika. - -“That’s him!” Monte whispered. “All right, Kid! You have Mike bring the -cab down to the corner where we was waiting. Then, when this duck beats -it out of here, I’ll hop in and we’ll follow him!” - -Half an hour later the tall man in the gray coat—who in American -garb looked more like an Oriental than he had when dressed as a -Chinaman—paused to look deliberately at his watch, and then turned to the -outer door. - -By the time he stepped into the blue limousine, Monte had reached the -corner and was climbing in beside the driver of the taxi. The “Kid” had -the window down, and was kneeling with his head close to the driver’s. - -“How ’bout it, Mike!” Monte demanded. “Can you keep ’em in sight?” - -“Watch me!” snorted the driver. “There ain’t no Chink going can leave me -behind. Did you see that chauffeur? Got a face like a monkey!” - -There was no difficulty, for the present, in keeping the blue limousine -in sight, however. It went sedately down a side street and took the turn -toward the ferry. Five minutes later Monte and the Kid saw the cab in -which they were seated draw in behind the larger car, and roll over the -landing platform. The limousine was stationed on the right, and the cab -on the left, of the big boat. - -Monte scrambled down, and with a curt command to the other two made his -way around to where he could see the enclosed car. The man in the gray -overcoat was sealed inside, with a coffee-brown Chinaman in livery at the -wheel. Monte kept them in sight till the ferry was approaching the slip. -Then he hurried back and climbed in again beside the driver. - -“Here’s where they’ll try to leave us behind, if they have any idea we’re -following!” he predicted. - -“Let ’em,” growled Mike. “If we don’t get took in by a speed cop, I won’t -never let no Chink drive away from me! You boys just hang onto your -bonnets, and watch us!” - -The big blue car seemed to have accepted this challenge. The little man -at the wheel swung out and passed half a dozen slower machines, then took -the center of the road and held it. - -With the coming of evening, a powdery fog swooped down over the ridges to -the west, and suddenly the tail lights of the limousine shot up in the -gloom ahead. Notch by notch, the Chinese chauffeur was adding to his -speed. The lighter car behind bounced and swayed, and Mike spat through -his teeth. - -“Say, that bird must be clear nuts!” he growled. “If we get took in, -they’ll sentence us to about five life-times! What say, gents? Want to -let him go?” - -“You keep going!” snarled Monte, staring hardeyed into the fog. “If we -get pinched, I pay for it, see? But don’t you let that bird get away, if -you want to sleep in your little bed tonight!” - -Mike glanced sideways at the man whose elbow touched his. Something -he saw in the stony face of Monte Jerome caused him to turn all his -attention to the task in hand. - -The tail lights had been growing dim, but now, slowly, the cab began to -gain. Other cars, headed for the ferry, shot out of the fog and into it, -honking warning horns at the crazily lurching machine that burned the -road in pursuit of the blue limousine. The stony faces of the three men -in the cab never deviated from their straight glare into the gloom ahead. - -The speed of the big car was slackening. The driver of the cab grinned -wryly. - -“He knows the ropes. Speed cop in this burg ahead lies awake nights -thinking up new ways of raising hell for speedy drivers,” he explained. -“Now we’ll creep up on ’em a little more!” - -They passed through the little town and again were in the open country. -The limousine continued its more leisurely progress, however, and -presently turned to the right into a dirt road. The cab dropped farther -behind, at Monte’s command. - -“They can’t get away from us on this road. Probably aren’t going far, and -we don’t want them to spot us. Take it easy!” - -The road seemed to be leading gently down, and presently they caught the -gleam of water on each side. Rushes grew up close to the track; and from -somewhere in the dusk the cry of a gull sounded like the wailing of a -lost soul. - -Involuntarily, the “Kid” shivered. - -“Hell of a country!” he mumbled. “Where you reckon he’s headed for?” - -“Wait and see!” snapped Monte. “Hello!—he’s turning in! That must be a -private road! Stop here!” - -He slid from the seat and stood swinging his feet alternately, to restore -the circulation in them. Then he jerked his head into the darkness. - -“Come on, Kid! We got to see what he’s up to!” - -The “Kid” clambered out, and the two crooks struck silently up the road. -They reached the turn and found, as they had guessed, that they were at -the entrance to a private road. - -Instinctively, the two men paused and stared in through the trees. Night -pressed thick and damp about them. A wind from the southeast brought to -them the smell of the marshes, and once the booming whistle of a steamer -sounded. In a lull of the wind, the gulls were screaming. - -“This ain’t in my line, Chief!” snarled the “Kid,” glaring into the -darkness. “I can bump a guy off under the city lights as nifty as the -next one, but this nature stuff never did set right on my stomach. Let’s -go back!” - -“You go back if you want to!” Monte said menacingly. “But if you do, -don’t come sniveling around me later on. I’m going in there!” - -He struck off along the winding road, and in a moment the “Kid” fell into -step at his side. - -Without a word, the two advanced till suddenly the lights of a building -shone upon them. They paused for a moment, then began to creep nearer, -keeping in the shelter of clumps of bushes. In this way they came close -enough to discern the outlines of a large and well-built house, with a -broad frontage and two wings extending from the rear. - -“For the love of cripe!” whispered the “Kid,” “would you look at them -windows! Barred, every damn one of them!” - -Monte nodded. - -“Looks like a private foolish house to me,” he replied in the same -cautious tone. “Come on—we’ll get around behind and see what we can make -out!” - -The musty darkness of the night, which had settled down around them, was -now an advantage, as it made it easier for the two Wolves to get close -to the house without being seen. They crept past the massive front, with -its broad steps and wide porch, and continued till they came opposite the -west wing. Most of the windows in this wing were dark, but toward the -back they saw several lighted panels. - -“Come on!” commanded Monte. “I hope that Chink doesn’t keep a dog, but -plug him if one comes at you!” - -On they crept till they were close to the windows. Massive and sinister -against the light, stood the iron bars which had first caught their -attention. They crept closer, and finally Monte hauled himself up into a -gnarly pepper tree whose lacy branches almost touched the nearest of the -lighted windows. - -Next moment he reached down and grasped his companion’s shoulder. - -“Come up here!” he grated, speaking half aloud in his excitement. “Don’t -slip—catch that limb! There you are!” - -He assisted the “Kid” to a foothold beside himself, and together they -stared through the foliage and into the lighted room beyond. - -The curtains were drawn aside and the shade rolled up. Seated in full -view of the two crooks was the man they had been following for five -years. He wore a dressing-gown, and beside his easy chair was a low table -on which rested a leather covered box. - -Suddenly he turned, raised the cover of the box—and Monte and the “Kid” -held their breath and stared hungrily. The light was caught and split up -into a cascade of vivid colors. The man in the dressing-gown seemed to -have in his clutching hands a fountain of fire. - -“The Resurrection Pendant!” snarled the “Kid,” reaching for his pistol. -“Damn him!” - -Monte gripped his companion by the wrist. - -“None of that, you fool!” he hissed. “We’ve got to play safe—but the -Count is caught in a trap! That Chink must have kidnapped him!” - - -_CHAPTER FIVE_ - -ONE OF AH WING’S DOOR KEEPERS - -Colonel Knight awoke and lay staring at the ceiling. It seemed a -surprisingly long distance from him—and then his glance narrowed. - -He turned his head, and suddenly sat up in bed. He had just remembered -the events preceding his loss of consciousness. - -Ponderingly, he examined his surroundings. He was in a big room, with -a high ceiling. There were two windows at his right and one straight -ahead, the latter partly open. Several easy chairs, a handsome mahogany -house desk, and a row of bookcases flanking a fireplace came to him as -successive details of his environment. A bar of yellow sunlight streamed -through the end window. - -A door behind him opened, and he turned to see a grinning, brown-faced -Chinese boy approaching his bedside, bearing a breakfast tray. - -“Ah Wing say he coming to see you by-m-by,” the newcomer commented -placidly. “You hab breakfast now.” - -He drew up a table and placed the tray in position, then skillfully -arranged napkin and silverware—which were of the best quality—convenient -to Colonel Knight’s hand. Afterward he withdrew. - -Knight’s head felt clear enough, but, mentally and physically, he was -relaxed to the point of incoherence. He wanted to think, but couldn’t. - -Mechanically, he lifted to his lips the cup of steaming coffee that the -servant had poured for him. The taste of the hot, bitter fluid—he drank -it without cream or sugar—helped him pull himself together. He remembered -everything now: his visit to the mysterious Chinaman; the coming of his -enemies, and their attack on the basement room; his flight with Ah Wing; -and the latter’s ruse for bringing Knight fully within his power. - -Sharply he turned his head and looked again at the end window; it was -barred with heavy iron rods, and so were the two windows at the side. -This room in which he lay was a luxurious prison! - -The door opened again, softly, and Colonel Knight turned his head to find -Ah Wing advancing toward him, dressed in white flannel trousers, silk -shirt, and serge coat. In such a rig the newcomer looked every inch a -Chinaman. - -“Good morning, Colonel,” Ah Wing greeted his guest courteously. “I am -glad to see you looking so fresh and rested this morning!” - -Knight began to tremble. - -“You yellow crook!” he croaked, his hands drawing up into knots. “So that -was your scheme—to rob me, and then kidnap me? But don’t think you can -get away with it—” - -Ah Wing approached the bed and deftly reached under the nearer of the two -pillows. From this place of concealment he drew two things: the morocco -jewel case, and a revolver that Knight remembered having carried in his -inside coat pocket. - -“Here are the principle articles of your property, Colonel Knight,” said -the master of the house. “The other things you will find after you are -dressed.” - -He paused to watch the man in the bed open the leather box and stare -hungrily at the flashing jewels. Then he continued. - -“There was an ordeal ahead of you, my friend, and you were in no -condition to go through with it. You needed rest, but your nerves were -screwed up to the snapping point. There was only one way to get you -safely out of the city, and I used it.” - -“You mean that the Wolves don’t know where I am?” Knight demanded. - -“Not yet. I shall remedy that presently.” - -Colonel Knight’s voice rose into a snarl: - -“Remedy it? You mean you want them to know?” - -“Of course I want them to know. I want them here, where I can deal with -them. But never fear, my friend. Your old enemies will never be able to -hurt you!” - -He paused and looked around the apartment, then turned again to the man -in the bed. - -“These are your quarters. Adjoining your bedroom is the bath. This door -opens into your sitting-room, and adjoining that is my conservatory, -which you are at liberty to visit when you choose. There are no -conditions placed upon your residence here except that you are not to try -to leave the house without my permission—_and you are to leave the end -window exactly as it is_. Don’t even lay your hand upon it, or upon the -sill! This is important!” - -Knight stared again at the single end window through which the sun was -shining. He stared from it to the face of the strange being who continued -to regard him with the impersonal interest of a Buddha. A sense of -baffled curiosity arose within him, and he made a nervous, protesting -movement with one of his puffy hands. - -“Who the devil _are_ you, anyway?” he broke out. “Ah Wing! That doesn’t -mean anything to me—as well say ‘Mr. X!’ You are not a Chinaman. What and -who are you?” - -Ah Wing continued to stare imperturbably down at his guest, but the ghost -of a smile showed at the corners of his usually expressionless mouth. - -“No,” he agreed, “I am not a Chinaman. And I am not a Caucasian. You see -that, dressed as I am today, I look unmistakably Oriental. Dressed like a -man of Hong Kong, on the other hand, I look American or English. That has -been my curse, and perhaps my blessing: the mixing of two irreconcilable -blood lines has made me an outcast. I have no place in the government of -any country, and therefore I have organized a government of my own. - -“I am the emperor, the president, the king, of an invisible empire. I -rule by right of intellect and will, and my first failure will be my -death warrant; for, judged even by the standards of a thief like you, -Colonel Knight, I am an outlaw—one who is outside the protection of the -laws of men!” - -He laughed, a short, mirthless laugh. As he crossed toward the door he -said over his shoulder, “Remember about the window. I shall be going out -from time to time, but if you carry out my instructions to the letter, no -harm can come to you even in this house of hidden dangers.” - -Try as he would, Colonel Knight could find nothing wrong with his -situation as it had been outlined to him by Ah Wing. He spent most of -the first day in the room in which he had awakened. From the windows in -one direction he could see a landscaped lawn and hillside, dotted with -shrubbery and intersected by winding gravel paths. - -From the rear window concerning which he had been so curiously warned -by the master of the house, he looked out over a bit of lawn bordering -a kitchen garden. Beyond the garden lay a marshy field, and in the -distance he made out a canal along which an occasional motor boat chugged -industriously. No, there was nothing wrong here—he could hardly have -hoped for a more peaceful place in which to rest and grow strong. - -But—there was an air of brooding watchfulness over the silent house. He -heard an occasional padded footstep passing the door of his sitting-room. -Once he looked out. At the farther side of an extensive conservatory the -brown-faced servant who had brought him his breakfast was spraying some -snaky-looking vines bearing huge orange-colored flowers. Colonel Knight -closed the door. Something about the place—the quiet and the isolation, -perhaps, were getting on his nerves. - -The second day passed as the first, but toward noon of the third day Ah -Wing knocked at his door and entered noiselessly. He was dressed in his -Oriental garb, and again looked like a poorly-disguised white man. - -“I will be going out for a few hours this afternoon, Colonel,” he -explained, regarding the man before him with his habitual unwinking -stare. “I am taking Lim with me, and I think it will be best for you to -remain in your quarters.” - -Although his words had taken the form of a request, there was back of -them the force of a command. The white man eyed him suspiciously, but -presently nodded. - -Some time later he heard the _whir_ of a starting motor. Lim had brought -him his luncheon, and now Knight figured the house would be deserted. He -smiled. This would be his opportunity to look around a bit. The instincts -of the crook were strong within him, and he was immensely curious with -regard to the house of Ah Wing. - -He waited an hour after he had heard the car leave the garage—from the -back window he had caught a glimpse of it: a gray roadster of moderate -size and power. Now he felt sure that he would not be interrupted. - -Crossing to the door of the conservatory, he passed into it. Along one -side were orchids, Colonel Knight realized vaguely that the collection -must be priceless. Many of them were growing in diminutive glass rooms, -upon whose walls he saw heavy drops of moisture. - -One pale green blossom near him had weird markings in white and yellow, -which gave it a disturbing resemblance to a grinning human face. The -man thrust out a curious finger and touched it: the blossom drew itself -together like a conscious thing, and he became aware of a sickening -perfume which in an instant turned him dizzy. - -He shrank back and continued his journey. The concrete floor narrowed, -and at his left he saw a lily pond, upon whose surface great white -blossoms showed their buttery yellow centers. Between the pads and -blossoms of the lilies the water showed, deep and dark. - -Colonel Knight leaned forward to peer into the pool; then, with a choking -cry he staggered back, his face drained of blood: an ugly black snout had -shot up out of the murky depths, and a huge lizard, with short, powerful -forelegs armed with long claws, stared hungrily up at him. - -He found his appetite for exploration losing its edge. He was tempted -to turn back, but he wanted to settle one point: in case he should want -to leave this house, how could he best do it? The windows were securely -barred, but there must be plenty of doors. - -A hall opened out from the conservatory, and on either side were rooms, -variously furnished. He hurried on. Ahead, he saw a door which seemed -to give upon the outer world. He grasped the knob. The door was locked, -and the lock was one which a glance told him could be neither picked nor -smashed. - -Turning, he explored the rear of the house. In the east wing he found the -kitchens and servants’ quarters, but a door which probably communicated -with the kitchen gardens was locked. - -Suddenly his wandering eyes caught the handle of a door in an angle -of the pantry. He approached it and found that it opened upon a stair -leading down. A gust of warm, damp air came up through the stairway, and -for a moment Knight paused, sniffing curiously. - -He found himself thinking of a certain sultry afternoon in India, when -he had gone out into the simmering jungle. There was the same wild smell -here— - -He had his revolver in his hip pocket. That gave him confidence, and he -must know if it would be possible for him to escape in this direction. - -A phrase spoken by Ah Wing came to him—“Even in this house of hidden -dangers!” But what dangers could there be? - -Colonel Knight felt his way down into the basement. He found that it lay -almost entirely below the level of the grounds, but presently his eyes -became accustomed to the dusk and he could discern his surroundings. - -He was in a broad and deep room, filled with a litter of packing cases, -discarded articles of furniture, and a few garden tools. At its farther -side was a door. Slowly and cautiously, the investigator made his way -toward this. - -It opened into a dark and narrow passage. He made his way along this, -trying the handles of two locked doors, one on the right and the other on -the left. Then he came to the end of the passage and to another door. - -Cautiously, he opened it and looked inside: before him lay a room -somewhat better lighted than the passage, but absolutely destitute of -furniture. He crossed the threshold and stood for a long moment looking -about him. The smell which he had associated with that hot afternoon in -the jungle came to him almost overpoweringly now, but beyond he saw a -door with an iron-barred transom. He wanted to try that door. - -He had crossed halfway toward it when some subtle sense of danger brought -him to a stop. He looked back. Nothing. - -Then, with a start, he looked up, into the dusky ceiling. Something was -moving there—he stepped back, drawing in his breath with a sharp hissing -intake of terror. He backed toward the door. It was taking shape, up -there among some uncovered beams and pipes—a huge column that seemed to -have come alive! Slowly it swung down in a great curve. - -Colonel Knight stood frozen in his tracks. It was a snake—but such a -snake! He knew that this was no waking vision, but a horrible reality— - -With a choking cry, he turned and ran as he had never run before in his -life. Behind him he heard a hissing as of sand being poured from an -elevation into a tin pail. A box was overturned. The thing was gaining -on him—he turned, and with bulging eyes he saw the python strung out -along the floor, its great body undulating, its flat head raised, its -unblinking eyes burning through the dusk. - -He could never make the stairs. At the left was a small door. He threw -himself upon it and clutched the handle—it came open and, without looking -before him, he threw himself forward. Something struck against the door -as he jerked it shut, and he could hear that uncanny sand blast louder -than before. - -Groping about him in the utter darkness of this refuge, he found a metal -contrivance—a wheel, with a metal stem connecting it with a large iron -pipe. He was in the closet which housed the intake of the water system. - -Then he remembered his revolver. It would be of little use to him against -the horrible thing coiled outside. - - * * * * * - -When Ah Wing returned to the house, several hours later, he went quietly -through the hall and conservatory to the door of Colonel Knight’s -apartment. - -Satisfied by a brief inspection that his “guest” was not in his rooms, -the Chinaman turned and made his way to the basement door. His face was -as serene as usual, but his eyes shone with a metallic gleam. He opened -the door and for a moment stood listening. - -An angry and prolonged _hiss_, which sounded like a great jet of steam, -came plainly to him. He stepped into the hallway and deliberately closed -the door behind him. Then he felt his way down the stairs, pausing within -a few steps of the bottom to look unwinkingly about. - -Something was moving in the dim shadows at the farther side of the room. -It came slowly toward him, and he could make out the undulating length of -the python. Ah Wing’s glowing eyes rested unwaveringly on the flat, evil -head of the great snake, which came toward him more and more slowly. - -With a final prolonged _hiss_, the python drew itself up into a huge -coil. It was a tremendous creature, as large as a man’s body at its -greatest diameter: but now it seemed to be turning slowly to stone. Its -beady eyes grew dull, and its swaying head became rigid. - -A muffled cry reached the ears of the motionless Chinaman. Without the -flicker of an eyelid, he continued to stare down at the python. - -Presently he descended to the foot of the stairs. The snake was still. - -Ah Wing crossed to the closet door and threw it open. - -“You can leave your retreat now, Colonel Knight,” he said. “My little -playmate is temporarily in a condition of catalepsy—but I would not -advise you to repeat this visit!” - - -_CHAPTER SIX_ - -LOUIE MARTIN LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE WINDOW - -Monte and the “Kid” went back to the city that same evening, but early -next morning the leader of the Wolves returned to the neighborhood where -they had picked up the trail of Colonel Knight. - -Monte had caught sight of a “For Rent” sign in the upper window of a -cottage half a mile from the big house, and he wasted no time in hunting -up the rental agent and signing a lease. By evening he had his men with -him, and the battle lines were established for the final conflict. - -“We got to get all the dope on this Chink and his layout we can,” Monte -explained to his companions, as they sat smoking in the parlor of their -new home. “We might try to rush the house, but I don’t like the looks of -it. Chances are that Chink’s got a machine gun or a bunch of sawed-off -pump guns there. We’ll have to size things up.” - -He paused to stare at his men. - -“Any kicks on that? All right, it’s settled. Louie, it’s your turn for -sentry duty, and you better get over to the Chink’s castle now. At two -o’clock I’ll send Doc over to relieve you. You might take a look at the -windows, and see if any of them can be handled without a saw—there may be -some loose bars!” - -Louie Martin, the gem expert, was a little tallow-faced man with a -straggling, peaked beard and shifty eyes. He had no real appetite for -this sort of thing, but for personal reasons he was more willing than -usual to go on duty tonight. - -Slipping his automatic into the holster under his arm, he struck off -along the road toward the house of Ah Wing, whose gables were visible -from the cottage. A light wind was blowing from the southeast, and he -could see the mist rising over the marshes. Somewhere from the steamy air -above a night heron screamed raucously. Involuntarily, Louie shivered. - -He was glad to turn his thoughts to his own immediate affairs. Louie -Martin had made up his mind to strike out for himself. He had always -admired Colonel Knight—or “Count von Hondon”—for the shrewd stroke of -business he had done; and Louie was keen enough to perceive that Monte -Jerome was not equal to the task of holding the Wolves together. At the -present time there was open dissension among them. One of these days -one of them would squeal on the others—that was the way this mob stuff -usually ended. - -No, Louie had made up his mind to watch his chance for a crack at the -jewels—and then a clean getaway. - -He reached the private road leading to the Chinaman’s house, paused for -a moment to listen and reconnoiter, then stealthily struck into the -grounds. Five minutes later he had skirted the west wing and was peering -up through the shrubbery at the lighted windows of Colonel Knight’s -apartment. Their location had been sketched for him by Monte. - -“So that’s where the old devil is!” thought Louie. “Let’s just have a -look-see!” - -He climbed into a pepper tree—the same from which Monte and the “Kid” had -seen Knight—and stared into the room. It was lighted, but there was no -one in sight. Then, through a vista of open doors, he saw the man whom -he had been sent to watch, walking slowly about with his hands clasped -behind him, a cigar between his lips. - -“Had a good supper, and now he’s enjoying a smoke!” Louie mumbled -enviously. “Well, that’s good enough for me, too! Let’s have a look at -that window!” - -He slipped down from the tree and glanced about. At the corner of the -house was a galvanized iron can, evidently used for lawn clippings. Louie -lifted this cautiously and carried it over under the end window. Then he -climbed upon it, raising his head cautiously till he was standing just -beside the half-open window. - -A silent inspection of the bars showed him that they were all securely -fastened, with one possible exception: the bottom bar seemed to be loose -in its niche. Louie climbed down, changed the can over to the opposite -side, and examined the opposite end. Sure enough, it showed a crumble of -concrete around the bolt which was supposed to hold it in place. With the -utmost caution, fearing that the loose bar might be connected with an -alarm system, the crook tested it. - -A smile twisted his thin lips. It could be moved in and out of its niche. - -A sound came from somewhere close at hand; and with the speed and silence -of a wolf Louie Martin leaped to the ground, caught up the can, and -replaced it where he had found it. Next instant he was hidden in a clump -of flowering shrubs. - -From this position he could see the top of a flight of steps leading down -to the basement of the house of Ah Wing. He stood listening and watching, -and presently he heard a door open and close, followed by steps ascending -the stairs. Then some one came up out of the basement, and he saw the -figure of a tall Chinaman walking deliberately toward the bush in which -he was hiding. Louie reached under his coat for his pistol— - -Ah Wing turned, and Louie saw that he was following a graveled path. And -he was carrying something in one hand—a contrivance of twisted wires, -like an iron basket. - -As Ah Wing disappeared into the mist, Louie made up his mind. Tonight, -after Knight had gone to bed, he would strike: he was not to be relieved -till two o’clock, and that would give him time to put through his coup. -But now he meant to follow Ah Wing. He needed all the information he -could secure about the master of this silent house. - -The Chinaman had disappeared into the eddying mist, but Louie struck into -the path and soon came within hearing of the crisp footsteps. Ah Wing -reached the edge of the grounds and crossed over into a marshy field. - -Instinctively, the crook worked closer to the man he was shadowing. There -was something oddly menacing about this night, with its mist and its -fitful, salt-laden wind. - -Suddenly through the swirling fog there appeared a light, which seemed to -be suspended ten feet or so above the ground. It was moving slowly along -in front of them—a murky light, like a blood-red mist. - -Then Louie saw that it was the light suspended from the mast of a boat, -and that the boat itself was moving slowly along before them, almost -hidden by the banks of the canal. The tide must be out, he thought. - -Ah Wing swung on through the night, and presently the man following him -made out the silhouette of a building, perched above the canal. Louie -slunk cautiously forward and saw that the boat, whose lantern he had -previously observed, was making fast at that wharf. - -Ah Wing leaped lightly to the sunken deck and disappeared down the -companionway. Before Louie could decide what he was to do, the Chinaman -reappeared and climbed back to the wharf. Louie had just time to slip -into the shelter of a group of piling when the Chinaman passed the corner -of the building. - -And in his hand was another of the wire contrivances, filled with -squirming, squeaking rats! - -The white man felt his stomach doing queer antics. He had heard of -Chinamen eating rats. Was that what this fellow was up to? What else -could he want with them? - -Ah Wing walked swiftly, and the man behind kept as close as he dared. -Again they entered the grounds surrounding the big house, and the -Oriental crossed to the basement stairs and went down. Louie paused in -the bushes. - -“I’m going to gamble,” he whispered suddenly to himself. “I’ll just sneak -down those steps, and if he tries to come out before I can duck, I’ll -bean him! I want to know what he’s up to!” - -Stealthily, he approached the steps. All that he could see was a murky -hole, into which the cement stairs disappeared. A step at a time he made -his way down— - -And then he paused, holding himself bent forward, rigid as a man of -stone. From beyond the door which opened out of this pit came a strange -sound, the like of which he had never before heard. It was like a jet of -steam, or like sand sifting into a tin pail from a considerable height. - -Then came another sound—the sing-song voice of the Chinaman, crooning -something in a rhythmic chant. Louie could not understand the words, but -there was a swing and lilt to the thing that had a curious effect on him: -_he felt as if he were being rocked to sleep_. - -He threw off this mood with a start. There had come another sound—the -squealing of many rats. And there was a grating noise, as if a heavy -body were dragging itself about the floor. The rat chorus swelled. The -creatures evidently had been turned loose, and were racing about the -floor in an agony of terror. - -The chorus thinned. Something was happening to them. Presently the last -of the rats emitted one long, agonized squeal, and was still. - -Louie Martin made his way out of the cellarway and hurried dizzily back -to the shelter of the bushes. He didn’t know what had been happening -behind that horrible door, but he knew that it was something which turned -his flesh to ice. A strange smell had come to him from under the door— - -Louie noted with relief that the lights in Colonel Knight’s rooms had -been snapped off. That meant that the Colonel had gone to bed. Soon he -would be sleeping, and then Louie could put his plan into execution—that -would enable him to forget this baffling but vaguely horrible experience. - -Somehow, he felt as if great unseen creatures were flying about him, -striking at him with black, featherless wings. The air seemed to be in -motion. - -He caught himself firmly. - -“Got to cut it out!” he mumbled under his breath. “Getting dippy! Likely -to bite somebody! Got to think about something else!” - -He began to think about the jewels; and then his mind shifted, and he -was thinking of the woman from whom he and his companions had stolen the -pendant. She had been called “Mother of the Friendless.” The jewels had -been given to her by a rich patron, to assist in the work of providing -for the many who were dependent on her for charity. - -The wolves had done a clever bit of work that time. They had caught the -jewels while they were in process of transfer from the original owner to -the old woman— - -Another tangent. Louie was thinking with cold amusement of the fate of -Madam Celia, the “Mother of the Friendless.” Luck had turned against -her, with the loss of the jewels. Others who had helped her in her -earlier years had turned away after that—as if the old woman had suffered -contamination by accepting this gift, bequeathed by a certain rather -notorious beauty whose affairs had upset thrones and dynasties. - -Yes, a very good joke on the old woman. And she had died in abject -poverty. That was the way that sort of thing went, Louie realized. One -was really a fool to do anything for anyone but one’s self. - -A sound came through the half-open window of Colonel Knight’s suite—and -again Louie Martin grinned. The master crook, who had stolen the jewels -from the “Mother of the Friendless,” was now about to pass them on—only -he didn’t know it! - -Louie brought the metal barrel over under the window and set it, bottom -up, so as to form a secure means of approach to the room beyond. He had -thrown off his depression now. But he must work fast. - -Cautiously, he stepped upon the barrel and raised his hands to the bottom -bar. Twisting it slowly and at the same time pulling, he drew both bar -and bolts from their sockets and tossed them to the ground. He wanted to -laugh! So this was the wisdom of a Chinaman? He might have known! - -There was a stone coping a couple of feet above the top of the thing on -which he stood. Louie rested his foot on this coping and laid his hands -on the sill. Lightly he drew himself up against the face of the wall. - -He paused to listen. The man within was breathing heavily and regularly. - -Louie thrust his head through the opening—nothing in sight to alarm him. -Then, with a quick spring, he threw his weight upon the sill and was -halfway through the window— - -Half-way, but no farther; for as his weight descended fully upon the -sill, the upper sash crashed down like the lever of a great engine. The -thief cried out once, a hideous, choking cry that echoed through the room -and on into the house of Ah Wing. - -Then he was silent, drooping there like one who has been broken on the -wheel. Blood dripped from his mouth and nostrils, and he had ceased to -breathe. He was caught like a huge rat in a trap! - - -_CHAPTER SEVEN_ - -THE DEAD MAN SPEAKS - -Somewhere beyond the mist-enshrouded marshes the whistle of a grain ship -boomed, to be answered a moment later by the metallic scream of a siren. -Vague and mysterious filaments of sound drifted in with the eddying night -wind. - -“Damn such a country!” the “Kid” snarled, as he turned from the door and -tramped back into the house. “How long you going to keep us rusticating -out here, Chief? I’m fed up on nature!” - -Monte Jerome scowled at his assistant. - -“We’re going to stay here till we get what we came for!” he replied. “If -Martin doesn’t show up by morning, we got to decide what he’s up to!” - -An uncanny silence gripped the four Wolves. Nearly twenty-four hours had -passed since Louie Martin went on duty, and nothing had been heard from -him. An uncomfortable idea was developing in the minds of the various -members of the “mob.” - -Suddenly the “Kid” voiced this general suspicion. With a snarl, he -pointed accusingly at Monte. - -“Fact is, Louie ain’t coming back, Chief, and you know it! He’s grabbed -something—maybe the sparklers—and he’s beat it. Don’t blame him a damn -bit, neither. We’re going to set around here with our mouths open till -the dicks get after us. But Louie ain’t coming back, and you just put -that down in your note-book!” - -Monte turned toward the speaker. - -“Is that your opinion, you lump-head? Well, keep it till I ask you for -it. The trouble with you is you’ve been thinking of cutting loose, -yourself. Louie will show up all right. Don’t you worry about him.” - -“Hell of a lot you know about it!” mumbled the “Kid” angrily. - -Monte walked slowly toward him, his eyes blazing. - -“Trying to start something?” he demanded. “If you are—” - -The Strangler intervened at this critical moment. He and the “Kid” had -had a disagreement earlier in the evening when the latter moved into -the room left vacant by Louie Martin’s unexplained absence. This was a -ground-floor room with an abundance of light and sun, and the “Kid,” with -a loose-lipped grin, announced that his doctor had told him he ought to -have it. The Strangler had protested; but the “Kid” had possession, and -made it plain that he meant to hang on. - -Now the Strangler sided maliciously with Monte. - -“You’re always belly-aching about something, Kid,” he declared. “You -better lay off and give us a rest. The Chief knows what he is doing!” - -Monte paused, thankful for this opportune intervention. He had made -up his mind to square account with the “Kid” just as soon as the real -business which held them together was finished, but a show-down now would -be dangerous to the success of the larger affair. - -“Let’s cut it all out, boys!” he suggested pacifically. “I’ll go on duty -up to two o’clock. Doc, you set the alarm. You’ll relieve me. I’ll try to -find out something—that Chink may have grabbed Louie. We ought to know -what has happened before we pull anything!” - -He nodded to the others and left the house. The three crooks settled -down to their usual evening: the “Kid” got out a deck of cards and began -to play a one-handed game of his own devising; Billy the Strangler drew -his chair over in front of the fireplace and adjusted his feet on the -mantle—in this position he would smoke and stare into the coals till he -grew sleepy—and “Doc” took from the table an illustrated magazine and -turned to the serial he was reading. Occasionally he glanced covertly at -one of his companions: “Doc” sensed the coming battle between these two -gunmen, and had no intention of being caught within the firing lines. - -The wind freshened, and they could hear it wailing around the house and -through the upper windows. The window in the “Kid’s” room rattled and -banged, and he looked abstractedly up. - -“Hell of a night!” he mumbled. “Sounds like all the dead men in this neck -of the woods was hanging around outside, wheezing to be took in by the -fire! Listen to that window rattle!” - -The Strangler smoked on imperturbably. - -From somewhere in the house above there came a sound—low and uncertain at -first, then rising to a sort of scream. The “Kid” threw down his cards -and staggered to his feet. The Strangler hauled his long legs down from -the mantle and reached under his coat for the handle of his automatic. -“Doc” turned pale—he was too sophisticated to be superstitious, but this -unearthly cry was a fact rather than a theory. - -“What the devil was that?” the “Kid” demanded hoarsely. “Say, if that was -one of them birds—” - -“That must have been it!” “Doc” decided aloud. “A night heron, blown -against the chimney! What a night to be out in!” - -He shivered and picked up his magazine, but the zest had gone out of his -reading. From the corners of his eyes he observed that the “Kid” was -gathering up his cards, and that Billy had not again elevated his feet to -the mantle. - -“Well, I guess I’ll be going to _my_ room,” the “Kid” drawled presently, -emphasizing the possessive pronoun to tantalize the Strangler. “Kind of -feel like a little snooze would take the wrinkles out of my brains. This -place sure does give me the willies!” - -He slouched into the hall communicating with the back rooms—a kitchen and -his bedroom—and they heard him shuffling through the darkness. Following -a moment of silence, his voice sounded in a steady mumble. Then it was -raised in expostulation. - -“Who the hell has been fooling with my light? It won’t turn on!” - -Another brief interval of silence, then a bellow of rage and fear from -the man in the back bedroom. - -“Who’s there? Go way from me! Damn—” - -They leaped up at the sound of the “Kid’s” stumbling gallop. He burst -into the room, and they saw that his face was the color of ashes. - -“For God’s sake, who’s in that room—my room?” he cried, staring at them -through straining, glassy eyes. “Come on, you fellows! Here, I’ll take a -flashlight—the globe must be burned out!” - -He snatched up an electric torch and led the way back through the hall, -the Strangler at his shoulder, “Doc” some distance behind. - -“Someone let out a groan when I went inside the door,” the “Kid” was -explaining. “And then he says right in my ear, ‘This ain’t your room, -Kid!’ Listen!” - -They were within five feet of the bedroom door when the “Kid” paused and -held up a trembling hand. He was directing the light of the torch upon -the doorway. And at that moment there came from it a groan, followed by a -muttered protest. - -“_My room!_” a voice within the room said distinctly. - -“Holy Mother!” whispered the Strangler. “That sounds like Louie! He must -be hurt!” - -“How in hell would he get in there?” protested the “Kid.” “Come on—let’s -see!” - -They stepped inside the room, and the ray of the flashlight began to -circle it. Suddenly the circling beam came to a stop. - -“In the bed!” gasped the “Kid.” “He’s there, covered up!” - -Slowly and unwillingly, an inch at a time as if drawn by some -irresistible force, the three Wolves crossed the room and approached the -bed. They could all see the huddled form lying there, covered even to -the face. There was something about it—an utter absence of motion—that -terrified them. But they could not turn back. - -The “Kid” reached the bedside and for a long moment stood glaring down. -Then, with shaking fingers, he caught the edge of the bedding and threw -it back. - -In the concentrated light of the lantern, there stared up at them the -livid face of Louie Martin. His glazed eyes protruded, and there was -a trickle of blood running from his nostril to the left corner of his -mouth. And in his face was an expression of frozen horror which stopped -the hearts even of the hardened crooks who looked down in momentary -paralysis. - -With a scream, the “Kid” dropped the lantern and turned, treading upon -the toes of the Strangler. Another scream sounded, high and shrill—it -came from the direction of the bed. - -“Why can’t you let me rest?” a quavering voice protested. “This is my -room—” - -They heard no more. The three swore and sobbed as they raced for the -front room. They slammed doors behind them, and brought up, shaking as if -in ague, directly under the big, brilliantly lighted chandelier. - -“Somebody bumped him off—and he came back to tell us about it!” the “Kid” -whispered. - - -_CHAPTER EIGHT_ - -AH WING LISTENS IN - -“He’s certainly good and dead!” Monte said, as he stood looking down at -the body of Louie Martin. “Whatever they did to him, it was a plenty! -But you boys must be a little bilious—you can see for yourselves that he -hasn’t been doing any talking for some time. What you heard was the wind, -blowing around the corners of the house!” - -The “Kid” drew the back of his hand across his glistening forehead. He -was standing near the door. - -“Don’t kid yourself, Chief!” he snarled. “We heard him talk—all of us -did! And there’s another thing: us being bilious wouldn’t account for -Louie Martin walking in on us here, and climbing into that bed!” - -Monte was staring down at the dead man. - -“You say you heard the windows back here rattling earlier in the -evening?” he demanded. - -“Sure. Why wouldn’t they? The whole house was rattling!” - -Monte nodded. He had his own ideas on this subject, but he didn’t intend -to spread them before his already demoralized followers. - -“Well, the thing we’ve got to decide is what we’re going to do with him,” -he commented. “We’ve got to handle the whole business ourselves, and say -nothing. We can’t afford to have the dicks asking questions around here -just now!” - -Tacitly, Monte’s three companions agreed, but there was in their pale -faces a question which none of them had the courage to voice. Monte -continued, apparently unconscious of their emotions. - -“Billy,” he said, “you get the spade and dig a grave over close to the -fence. After we get him planted, we’ll move that pile of old bean poles -over the place. It’s kind of tough, but Louie is dead—and we got to look -out for ourselves!” - -The Strangler went silently out into the dark. They heard him rummaging -for a spade, and presently the _clink_ of the latter implement came -industriously to them. The grave was finished by the time the first gray -light of dawn began to filter down around the cottage, and presently -the body of the dead crook, wrapped in a blanket, was lowered into it. -Then the dirt was shoveled back till the cavity would hold no more, and -the superfluous earth was scattered over the surface of the garden. The -shifting of a pile of bean poles finished the ceremony. - -“I’ll trade rooms with you, Kid,” Monte said to the saturnine strong-arm -man—who for once looked rather cowed. “I never was afraid of a dead -man—just so that he was really dead. I guess you’re kind of soured on -that part of the house!” - -“Soured is right,” mumbled the “Kid.” “Say, I wouldn’t sleep in there -if you was to give me all the sparklers in New York! Just let me get my -stuff out!” - -As he went back toward the room from which the body had recently been -removed, the “Kid” saw the mocking glance of the Strangler fastened -upon him. Billy was enjoying his discomfiture. He went into the room -and turned on the light—the burned-out bulb had been replaced, so that -now he was able to see into all the corners. He began to gather up his -property, staring nervously about him the while. - -Cautiously, he approached the closet, where he had stored his bathrobe -and an extra suit, a couple of pairs of shoes and a pearl gray hat. He -opened the door wide and stepped back. Nothing inside. Hastily he carted -the clothing out. Then he crossed over to the bureau and opened the -left-hand upper drawer, in which he had placed his jewelry—some rings and -tie pins. - -The “Kid” drew the drawer fully open and stood looking down into it. Then -a startled exclamation escaped him, and he bent nearer, staring wide-eyed. - -All of his possessions were there; but in addition he saw, close to the -back of the drawer, a morocco covered box of peculiar design. The “Kid” -had seen that box once before! - -With trembling fingers he undid the clasp and opened the lid. He could -feel his heart pounding in the top of his head, and his throat seemed -to contract, so that he fought for breath. The Resurrection Pendant! A -single glance convinced him of that. But how had it come into this drawer? - -The “Kid’s” mind deviated from the line of this natural inquiry. He could -forget that for the moment—the fact was that here it was. But there was -no reason why he should share this discovery with the other Wolves. This -supreme good fortune had come to him, not to them! He quickly shut the -lid of the case and slid the box into an inside pocket. - -He removed his property to Monte’s room, hiding the jewel case under the -mattress. His blood had turned to liquid fire. He had that for which they -had all been searching—and it was his alone!... - -Monte went on guard that evening, taking “Doc” with him: not that Monte -was afraid, but he realized that the battle had now entered its final -and decisive phase. And it was real war. Monte Jerome had no doubt that -Martin had, in some mysterious way, been done to death in the house of Ah -Wing. - -“You boys better get to bed early,” he said. “Billy, you take the clock -and set it for half past one. You wake the Kid as soon as you get -up—we’ll stand double guard from now on!” - -The “Kid” hardly heard Monte speaking. He wanted to examine the jewels -again, wanted to figure out just how he was going to make the break which -would free him from his comrades. - -For a time, after the other two had departed, he sat around smoking and -cleaning out the barrel of his pistol, which the fogs of this marshy -neighborhood were corroding. He cleaned barrel and chamber and oiled the -action, then replaced the clip of cartridges and slipped the gun into a -side pocket. - -“Well,” he mumbled, half aloud, “I guess I’ll be getting to bed. An’ I -hope to God there won’t be no voices around here tonight!” - -The Strangler grunted, and the “Kid” slouched off up the stairs and into -the room that had been Monte’s. He closed the door carefully, crossed -over to the light, and then stood listening. - -The night wind was stirring around the house, whistling and moaning down -the chimney; but the “Kid” had an antidote for fear tonight: he went -over to his bed and fumbled for the jewels. The touch of the smooth -leather-covered box started his heart to pounding. - -He laid the box on the bed and opened it. The light was reflected into -his eyes from a thousand sharp facets, crimson and blue and white—but -perhaps the charm was wearing off: the stones did not look as wonderful -to him tonight as they had in that momentary view he had caught during -the afternoon. - -“And that’s the bunch of sparklers men go dippy about!” the “Kid” -mumbled. “Hell, I wouldn’t give two bits for the whole bunch, if I -couldn’t sell ’em! There’s too many of ’em, and they don’t shine so -terrible much! I saw a big buck nigger on State Street once with a -solitaire on that would have made them look phoney—and it was glass! Oh, -well, I should worry. I ain’t going to wear ’em—I’m going to _sell_ ’em! -I’ll have to play safe—” - -At the ghost of a sound from behind, the “Kid” whirled. He had left the -door closed, but now it was open—and the Strangler stood inside the room, -grinning. - -“So, that was the game!” he cried. “You’re a slick one, Kid, but you -ain’t slick enough. I been watching you all evening. You ain’t yourself, -old timer. You’re getting nervous. But I don’t wonder! You grabbed the -sparklers, but how you done it I don’t know. And you was going to hold -’em out, was you? Well, well—” - -The “Kid’s” lips jerked up into a wolfish smile, but he forced himself -to go slow. He needed to think this thing out. He knew the Wolves well -enough to be sure they would hold this affair against him, and sooner -or later would try to play even. No use to try to explain—they wouldn’t -understand. - -The Strangler was watching him through chilly eyes. Casually, the Kid’s -hand stole toward his side pocket. Instantly the man standing before him -acted: with a bellow of rage he jerked out his own hand, which he had -been holding under his coat: swinging it up he fired, then struck at the -light globe with the smoking barrel. - -To the “Kid” there came the sensation of suffocation and of darkness. -His own gun was out, but his enemy had disappeared—and he himself was -sprawled across the bed. That instant of falling had not registered in -his consciousness: he had been standing, and now he was down; that was -all he knew. - -And he was fighting for breath—a great weight seemed to be crushing in -his chest. He raised his left hand and gropingly explored the front of -his shirt: it was already saturated, and from a hole to the left of his -breast bone more blood was coming in a pulsing current. - -“The dirty dog!” muttered the “Kid” thickly, pulling himself erect by -grasping the foot of the bed. “He’s croaked me—” - -Then suddenly the “Kid’s” whirling senses cleared. Billy the Strangler -had done for him; but he would send Billy on ahead, to tell St. Peter he -was coming! His yellow teeth came together. He felt something welling up -in his throat and spat out a mouthful of blood. - -“Not—much—time—left!” he muttered. - -He dropped to his knees and for a moment everything went blank. Then he -mastered himself, by a superhuman effort: and began to crawl stealthily -along toward the dimly-lighted panel of the door. The Strangler had run -out there after firing—now, undoubtedly, he was waiting till it should -be safe for him to come back for his booty! - -Slowly, the dying crook dragged himself across to the door and out into -the hall. The training of a lifetime stood him in good stead now: he was -as soundless as a shadow. He reached the top of the stairs and paused, -leaning for a moment against the banisters—everything was going black -before him. Then he pulled himself together with a disregard for his own -suffering that in a better cause would have been heroic. - -Inch by inch, he drew himself forward till he was sitting on the top step -of the stair. He peered down into the lighted rooms below. Ah! There he -was! The Strangler stood beyond the big chandelier in the front room, the -“Kid” could see him plainly through an open door. His face was smiling, -the crooked smile of a shark. - -Resting his automatic across his bent knees, the “Kid” took steady aim at -the man who had done for him. - -“A little higher than the pockets!” he told himself, repeating the old -gunman’s formula for a killing shot. - -Next moment the pistol roared; and the man standing down there in the -light jerked up his hands and staggered backward. Greedily, the “Kid’s” -fast glazing eyes drank in every detail of the Strangler’s agony. He knew -what that look meant— - -Billy the Strangler began to pivot on his heels, staring with blind eyes -into space. - -“Where is he?” he cried. “Damn your soul and body—you—” - -He pitched forward to his face. And the “Kid,” leaning peacefully back, -felt himself snatched up into a great red cloud that has descended out of -the roof upon him. - - * * * * * - -In an upper room in the house of Ah Wing, the Chinaman sat at an -instrument that resembled a telephone switchboard. There were on its -surface eight little globes, each with a plug socket beneath. - -Ah Wing had an operator’s head-piece in position, and he seemed to be -listening attentively to something that came to him over the wires. - -There had been voices, loud and angry. He heard the Strangler denouncing -the “Kid.” Then came the shot—and silence. - -Ah Wing waited an appreciable time, then shifted the plug from socket -to socket. Not a sound from any of the rooms in the distant cottage. He -returned the plug to its central position and waited. - -Presently another shot sounded, and a scream. He heard the Strangler -curse his enemy. - -Without a word, Ah Wing removed the head-piece and glanced up at a chart -fastened to the wall before him. It contained the names of five men, -against one of which a black cross had been inscribed. - -Now he picked up a pencil and filled in two additional crosses. - -There were but two of the Wolves left! - -_This Fascinating Story Has An Amazing Climax. It Will Be Concluded in -the Next Issue of WEIRD TALES. Tell Your Newsdealer To Reserve Your -Copy._ - - - - -Snatched from the Grave, Woman Tells of Death - - -A weird adventure befell Mrs. Rafaela Mercurio, an Omaha woman who, after -apparently dying, awoke in the land of the living instead of the spirit -world. After her physician had pronounced her dead, her life was restored -by an injection of adrenalin, administered by Dr. W. A. Gerrie. - -To all outward appearance, she was quite dead. There was no indication of -breathing or heart action. Prayers for the dead were started in the bed -chamber where her body lay. - -Then Dr. Gerrie injected the gland extract in her heart, and after -several days she showed signs of returning life. Upon regaining -consciousness, she was confused and puzzled, uncertain, it seemed, -whether she was alive or dead. Later she described her strange experience. - -“I could feel death pulling me,” she said. “I was slipping. I tried to -find something to hold to, but could not. I felt far away and alone, yet -it seemed there was something I must do before I slipped entirely away. - -“I had just a few minutes. I must straighten out in bed. I must cross -my hands on my breast. I must smile. My children must know that I died -in peace. From far away there seemed to be people around me. But their -voices grew more distant. - -“Then there seemed to come to me the comforting words of a priest. They -added to my peace and content. I was ready for death. I smiled, I think. -I know I wanted to. It was the last thing I remember.” - -And then, days after the first injection of adrenalin, the “dead” woman -regained consciousness. It was four o’clock in the afternoon. - -“I shall never forget that hour,” she said. “I heard the clock strike -four times—and I realized I was a living person in a living world.” - - - - -_A Fanciful Novel of the Red Desert Complete In This Issue_ - -DESERT MADNESS - -_By_ HAROLD FREEMAN MINERS - - -_CHAPTER ONE_ - -THE GIRL AND THE HANDCUFFS - -[Illustration] - -For a long moment the man surveyed with tired eyes the queer cleft in the -canon wall and the beaten trail that led into it. - -Finally he addressed the nearest of his two burros in a listless, half -humorous voice: - -“Well, Archibald, it looks interesting—what say we try it?” - -Archibald made no reply. Archibald was asleep. Immediately upon the -halting of the little cavalcade the burro had sunk into a state of -dejection more apathetic than usual and had promptly gone to sleep. In -fact, it is doubtful if Archibald had not been asleep the greater part of -the afternoon. - -“You don’t care, eh, Archibald? Well, for that matter, neither do I. But -let’s consider this matter, old timer. For the last hundred years, more -or less, we’ve been strolling around this accursed desert, and we have -made the acquaintance of a few cottontail rabbits, one or two coyotes, -and a rattlesnake. The rabbits showed their distaste for our society -by running away; the coyotes did nothing but deride us with mournful -voices; the rattlesnake certainly showed no desire to be friendly. We’ve -met no human being; we’ve discovered no fabulously rich gold mine; we’ve -had our fill of scenery. - -“There lies a well-beaten trail, disappearing into the face of solid -rock. At its end lies mystery, adventure. Possibly romance. Also, -possibly, cattle rustlers, who may greet us with anything but enthusiasm. -In which case we’ll throw in our lot with them, and I’ll ride you across -the desert to eternal glory. The idea intrigues me, Archibald. I think we -shall investigate.” - -At this moment an over-industrious flea must have launched a determined -attack on one of the few vulnerable parts of Archibald’s anatomy, for he -suddenly nodded his head vigorously. - -“Ah, you agree with me? I knew you would. We will now follow the trail to -adventure—or a sheep herder’s camp. Let’s go!” - -Percy, the second burro, was with difficulty herded into the narrow -trail. Archibald followed him with great reluctance, but finally the man -succeeded in driving his tiny pack train into concerted action, and they -slowly trudged up the narrow defile. - -Stanley Ross had been exiled to the desert country because certain -eminent New York doctors had come to the conclusion that he had -contracted a disease which yields itself to treatment most readily in the -dry desert uplands. - -Ross had not been breathing the dry air of the desert for a month before -he was as healthy as a prize fighter. The fact was that Stanley Ross -had over-indulged in a certain pastime known as “reading the tape,” and -Nature had gone on a strike. The New York doctors had provided the first -step toward recovery; the desert had done the rest. - -But there had been another hurt that had not healed so readily—or at -least Ross had so convinced himself. Stanley Ross fondly believed that he -was heart-broken. The cause was a blonde bit of New York femininity who -had fancied Ross for a while, but in the end had fancied the millions of -an oil man more. - -So he had stayed on in the West. A healthy restlessness had driven him -out to explore the uncharted wastes of the vast Red Desert, and the ever -changing wonders of rock, and sand, and sky, of sagebrush and cactus, of -sparkling night-heavens had beckoned him on. For months now he had been -wandering up and down this immeasurable wonderland, obeying every vagary -of mind, exploring every nook and cranny that caught his itinerant fancy, -his only companions the two burros which he had so whimsically named. - -Mirages had beckoned. Colors so bizarre that no artist had dared to give -them to canvas had soothed his soul. Grotesqueries of rock and sand and -canon had intrigued him. - -Ross still believed that the old hurt was still present in his bosom. -Actually he had been having a capital time for months, and the girl no -longer mattered. However, he had allowed himself gradually to fall into -a state of whimsical melancholy. What he needed was adventure. He was -bored, but had he known what lay at the end of the thin twisting trail -before him his boredom might not have been so acute. - -The rock defile, through which the trail led, was narrow, and the walls -were nearly perpendicular. The passage was twisting, but a tiny trickle -of water gave promise of a broader canon farther up. The trail, while -very narrow, was well-defined and worn deep. It looked as though it had -been in constant use for years. - -Ross had progressed along this strange passage for about a quarter mile -when his attention was suddenly arrested by something on the canon wall. -Involuntarily, he stopped. Instantly the burros halted as though their -motive power was automatically turned off whenever their master stopped -walking. - -“Great Horned Toads!” ejaculated Ross in a low voice. “Archibald, do you -see what I see, or has the sun gone to my head? Has the world slipped -back three centuries, or is it actually nineteen-twenty-three? ’Tain’t -possible, Archibald, but nevertheless I see what I see!” - -There, not thirty feet distant, was a girl—a pretty girl—and she was -shackled to four great iron rings, fastened in the canon wall, by means -of handcuffs, ankle fetters, and four heavy chains! - - -_CHAPTER TWO_ - -BROKEN SHACKLES AND A MYSTERY - -Ross stood spellbound. He could not believe his own eyes. - -That he should meet a human being in this vast waste of rock and sand and -cactus was possible. That he should find a girl chained to a rock, like a -felon of the black ages, was nothing short of incredible. - -There was no denying the girl’s existence, however. She was there, and -she was in need of help. - -His incredulity shattered, Ross was beside the girl in a bound. Even a -cursory glance showed her to be undeniably pretty, and it also showed her -to be quite as undeniably in a state of total exhaustion. - -At Ross’s approach, the girl raised her head with difficulty. Her eyes -opened and she smiled slowly. Then her whole body suddenly fell forward -against the chains that held her. She had fainted. - -No stranger situation could be imagined than the finding of a beautiful -girl chained to a rock in the midst of the great Red Desert. This, -however, was a matter for future consideration. The girl needed immediate -attention, and Ross’s first thought was to release her. - -When he examined her shackles Ross realized that release was not going to -be easy. The four rings to which the chains were fastened were secured to -the canon wall by means of heavy iron staples driven deep into fissures -in the rock. A test of strength showed that nothing short of a charge of -dynamite would ever loosen them. - -The chains were comparatively heavy and well forged. A file was the only -solution—and Ross did not possess a file. - -Not till he examined the handcuffs did he see any hope of releasing -the girl. These were not of the ordinary type. They were not the steel -manacles of the sort used today, but were about two inches wide, heavy in -construction and made of cast iron. The locking device was old-fashioned. -They were a type of handcuff that had been obsolete for nearly three -quarters of a century. - -Having satisfied himself that they were really made of cast iron, Ross -at once realized that it would be a comparatively easy task to free the -girl. Securing a small rock for a hammer, he braced the girl back against -the canon wall and held her wrist against the rock. A few well directed -blows with the improvised hammer easily cracked the rusty cast iron and -the handcuff fell away in two pieces. - -The girl’s wrist had been freed without more than slightly bruising the -skin. The second handcuff was broken quite as easily. Ross gently lowered -the girl to the ground. - -Releasing her ankles was more difficult. The anklets were of heavier -construction and harder to break without injuring the girl. However, by -placing a rock under the anklet and being careful, Ross finally managed -to shatter the cast iron without more than bruising the girl’s slender -ankles. - -In an instant he had jerked the pack from one of the burros and spread -his blanket roll out on the ground. Picking up the unconscious girl, he -placed her on the blankets and improvised a pillow from his coat. - -Almost opposite where the girl had been chained the tiny trickle of water -had formed a miniature pool in the rocks. Seizing a tin cup from his camp -outfit, Ross hurried to this pool, scooped up a cup of water, and in an -instant was kneeling at the girl’s side. - -Dipping his fingers in the water, he flicked it across her face, then -carefully bathed her forehead, and then set to chafing her wrists. - -It was fully ten minutes before the girl showed any evidence of returning -consciousness. Then her eyelids began to flutter. Finally she sighed -deeply, and her eyes slowly opened. - -Stanley Ross thought he had never seen such a look of abject terror as -now appeared in the girl’s eyes. It was as though she had just awakened -from a terrible dream and was still laboring under its terrorizing -influence. Such a look might have appeared in the eyes of a slave girl -when Nero ruled in Rome. - -For a moment, consciousness battled with that nightmare that had been -seething through the girl’s brain and finally won. Her eyes opened wide. -A half smile slowly crossed her face. Whatever might have inspired her -terror, the girl evidently recognized in Ross a friend. - -Her lips, dry and parched, moved with difficulty, but Ross saw that they -framed the word “Water!” - -Lifting her head, he dampened the girl’s lips from the cup and then -allowed her to drink her fill. But weakness still held sway over her -body, and she sank back on the blankets, exhausted. Her eyes closed again. - -“Don’t try to talk,” advised Ross. “You just lie there and rest until I -fix something for you. Then you can tell me about this thing.” - -For once in his life, Ross was glad that he had taken another man’s -advice. When he had started his desert pilgrimage an old prospector -had advised him to include a few cans of soup in his outfit. Ross had -demurred, seeing no use in packing superfluous weight, but the old desert -rat had insisted. - -Ross had included the soup. So far, he had had no use for it, but now it -was to show its worth. - -Collecting a few dry sticks from the stubby willows that grew around the -pool, Ross soon had a tiny fire going. Opening a can of soup, he heated -it over the fire and carried a cup of it to the girl. - -“Oh, that’s so good!” she murmured after she had drained the cup. “Thank -you.” - -“Do you feel like talking?” asked Ross. - -For a moment the girl regarded him with frank eyes. Then she shook her -head wearily. - -“Not—not just yet—please. I’m—so—tired.” She sank back onto the blankets. - -Realizing that, for the present, rest was the most important thing for -her, Ross covered the girl with a blanket and set about his camp duties. - -He finished unpacking his burros and turned them loose to pick at the -scanty tufts of grass that grew along the seeping stream. This done, he -set about preparing his own meal. - -It was already dusk, and by the time he had cooked and eaten his supper -darkness had settled down over the little canon. Washing his few dishes -in the pool, Ross set them aside and turned his attention to finding -enough firewood to keep the fire going. - -In the darkness this was somewhat of a task, and Ross was absent from the -camp for some little time. When he returned he saw that his strange guest -had evidently fallen asleep. - -Ross threw some wood on the fire and sat down with his back against a -rock. Filling his pipe, he lighted it and leaned back to contemplate the -events of the afternoon and evening. - -His first mental reaction on finding the girl had been one of intense -rage that any one, no matter what the cause or conditions, could be so -utterly inhuman as to perpetrate such an act. He was still angry now, but -he had cooled off to the extent that he could consider the affair calmly. - -There seemed to be no off-hand explanation whatever. As far as Ross knew, -there was no human habitation in all this desert waste, yet this trail up -the little canon had been used frequently and recently, so somewhere up -the winding trail must lie a solution to the mystery. But what it could -be, or whether he could ever solve it, Ross could not imagine. - -The whole affair was grotesque, bizarre. Why any one should chain a young -girl to a rock wall in the midst of a heat-scorched desert was utterly -incomprehensible. The girl was not gross or criminal-looking. On the -contrary, she was pretty, delicate, and obviously refined. Her clothes -bespoke a far different environment. How any one could be so inhuman as -to subject her to such treatment was unfathomable. - -Sitting there, smoking and watching the girl, mulling the strangeness of -the affair over in his mind, Ross could offer himself no explanation. The -only thing to do, apparently, was to wait for the girl to awaken and -then wait for her to talk. - -At any rate, the adventure which he had craved seemed to be at hand. -Where it would lead him he had no idea. - -The fire gradually burned low. The girl slept on. Ross removed the pipe -from his mouth. His head nodded. In half an hour the campfire had wasted -to an ember. - -The man’s head had sunk forward onto his breast; his body had relaxed -comfortably against its support. He, too, was asleep. - -Hours crept by.... - -With a start, Ross awoke. The first faint glow of dawn was creeping down -into the little canon. It was morning. - -Sheepishly, Ross rubbed his eyes, aware that he had allowed the healthy -fatigue of a day in the desert to conquer his senses and bring sleep when -he had intended to watch throughout the night. - -Gradually the events of the evening before came back to him, and he -looked across to where he had wrapped the girl in his blankets. The bed -was empty! - -_The girl was gone!_ - - -_CHAPTER THREE_ - -ADVENTURE WITH A VENGEANCE - -In an instant Ross was on his feet, the sleep fog automatically cleared -from his brain. - -One glance was enough. The dawn was far enough advanced so that he could -see both up and down the canon. It was patent that the girl had vanished -during the darkness. - -The whole affair was so utterly impossible, so unreal, so like an Arabian -Nights adventure, that Ross was almost prone to believe that it had been -merely a dream, a desert hallucination. Not until his eyes again sought -the canon wall did he convince himself that he had not been laboring -under some mental aberration. - -There could be no denying his eyes, though. There were the four heavy -chains fastened to the canon wall, and there were the four broken -shackles, mute evidence that he had stumbled onto a situation as exotic -as one of the desert’s own mirages. - -No, there could be no question that the girl had actually existed. Nor -could there be any question that she had disappeared. The only living -thing in sight was Archibald, who stood with head bowed over the dead -embers of last night’s fire in his usual state of ignoble dejection. - -At first thought it seemed impossible that the girl could have left camp, -unaided, and it seemed quite as certain that no one could have taken her -away by force, without rousing Ross. - -As he considered it, however, Ross realized that exhaustion would come -quickly to one chained to the rock and exposed to the sun without food or -water. Recuperation would probably come quite as quickly. The girl had -had both water and nourishment the evening before, and it would have been -quite possible for her to have gained sufficient strength to leave, had -she so chosen. There seemed to be no other explanation. - -“Well, Archibald,” said Ross, falling into his whimsical habit of -addressing the burro, “when I started this trip I thought that you -and Percy were the only asses in the party. Now I am convinced there -are three of us. Here I have just been craving adventure for months. -Yesterday I blundered right onto the craziest kind of a mystery, and -then I go to sleep and let the whole thing get away from me! Fools can’t -think, but I suppose they’ve got to eat,” he finished to himself. - -He set about preparing his breakfast, meanwhile pondering the affair. The -more he pondered the more mysterious it became. - -Breakfast finished, he washed his dishes and then stepped over to gather -up his bed-roll. Instantly he stopped short. There before him, scratched -in the level sand of the canon floor, was a message: - - “_Please go away. There is only great danger if you investigate - further._” - -There could be no denying the sincerity of that message. Coupled with the -silent testimony of the inhuman shackles, it meant that the girl, whoever -she might be, was in real peril. - -Regaining her strength, she had quietly slipped away in the night, but -before going she had left behind a warning to the man who had released -her. It was evident that she did not wish to draw a stranger into a -danger which she considered hers alone. - -The warning, however, reacted on Ross like a red rag on a bull. It was -a challenge to his manhood, to his thirst for adventure. Somewhere up -that narrow canon was mystery; and somewhere, too, was a girl in unknown -danger, a girl who patently enough needed assistance and a friend. - -It took but a few minutes to round up the burros and rope on the packs. - -“We will now proceed to rescue the fair maiden.” - -“Stick ’em up, an’ do it quick!” - -Ross whirled at the sound of the gruff voice—and found himself looking -squarely into the muzzle of an ugly six-shooter. Behind it, was the most -villainous-looking countenance Ross had ever seen. - -“Come on! H’ist ’em up!” again jerked out the owner of the gun. - -The situation was too unreal to be taken seriously. - -“Ah, Archibald, the plot thickens! First we meet Beauty; now we meet -the Beast. Point that gun the other way, my friend. It might go off and -frighten my long-eared friend here. He’s delicate, and I don’t like to -have his nerves shocked.” - -“H’ist them mits before I drill ya!” - -Ross felt the muzzle of the gun jammed into his ribs, and a practised -hand quickly searched his body. His automatic, carried for the sole -purpose of exterminating rattlesnakes, was transferred to the other’s -pocket. - -The vicious attitude of the gunman was far too real to be taken lightly. -There was no doubt that he meant business. - -“Ya can let ’em down now,” said the gunman, stopping back. - -Ross turned and surveyed his captor. - -“If you don’t mind telling me,” he asked coldly, “to whom am I indebted -for this early morning call?” - -“Stow the flip gab. All I know is tha big boss said to bring ya in, an’ -I’m bringin’ ya.” - -“Then I’m to understand that I’m a captive?” - -“Understan’ anythin’ ya please. Now git travelin’.” - -Resistance was hopeless. His air of reckless bravado gone, boiling -inwardly at the indignity forced upon him, Ross swung and trudged off up -the canon trail. - -For perhaps a quarter of a mile the narrow canon cleaved straight through -the rock. Then it suddenly began a series of intricate turns, as though -it had attempted a passage and had been baffled and forced to take a new -direction about every fifty feet. - -For a while, Ross stalked on without speaking. Suddenly he turned his -head and spoke. - -“Just where are you taking me, and who is the ‘big boss’?” - -“Never mind askin’ dam’ fool questions. Keep movin’!” - -After another quarter mile of sharp turns, the canon suddenly broadened, -and Ross found himself looking out into a basin bounded on all sides by -high, perpendicular rock walls, smooth and straight. - -The basin was oval in shape, and near the center was a group of ’dobe -buildings, five in number. Toward these the captor directed their -progress. - -As he advanced, Ross looked keenly for signs of life, but though he -sought every possible nook and cranny with his gaze, he could see neither -man nor beast. The place seemed to be absolutely deserted. - -At the first building, a small ’dobe structure that stood somewhat apart -from the others, Ross was ordered to halt. Opening a heavy door, the man -motioned with his gun for him to enter. Ross stepped over the threshold, -and instantly the door clanged shut behind him. - -He heard the heavy bolt drop into place. Then he heard his captor walking -away. - -Then, for the first time, it dawned on Ross that he was actually a -prisoner, and that he had been captured with some definite object in view. - -The room in which he found himself was about twelve feet square. The -walls were of ’dobe; the floor was of the same material, hard packed and -smooth. There were two small windows, but both were heavily protected -with thick iron bars, set deep in the hard-packed ’dobe. The furniture -consisted of a crude table and chair. - -A single test of strength showed Ross that he could never hope to open -the door. A crowbar or an axe would be necessary for that, and there -was no implement of any kind in the room. The walls were fully eighteen -inches thick. Under the fierce heat of the desert the ’dobe had grown as -hard as cement. Unless he received help from outside, there seemed to be -no possibility of escape. - -Time passed. Finally he ceased his idle wandering about the room and sank -into the chair. - -His pipe and tobacco still remained in his pocket. He took out his pipe, -lighted it, and fell to considering his strange predicament. - -It seemed that ages had passed before he detected approaching footsteps. -The bolt was raised. The heavy door swung on its hinges. His captor stood -outside, gun in hand. Behind him was a Chinaman, carrying a tray on which -was food. - -The Chinese entered the room, placed the tray on the table and arranged -the food. As he was performing this service, he said in a low whisper, -so low that his companion could not hear, “Missee say Wong flix good -dlinner.”’ - -“Come on, Chink, make it snappy!” snapped the man with the gun. - -The door slammed. The bolt fell into place. Ross was alone again. - -Dubiously, he surveyed the food. The words of the Chinese came back to -him, “Missee say Wong flix good dlinner.” - -So the girl knew that he was a captive. Well, all he could do was wait. -But who was she? And what did his imprisonment mean? - -In the meantime there was no reason for wasting a good dinner. Ross was -hungry, and in twenty minutes the last scrap of food had disappeared. - -Settling back in his chair, he again filled his pipe and prepared to -await developments with as good grace as possible. - -It was hours later that he heard footsteps nearing his prison. - - -_CHAPTER FOUR_ - -ROSS IS INVITED TO DINE - -Ross heard a key in the lock, and a moment later the heavy door swung -open. It was the gunman again. He was evidently not mindful to take any -chances with his prisoner, for he again was holding his revolver ready. - -“Come on out!” he barked, motioning with the gun for Ross to step out of -the room. “Tha big boss wants ya.” - -“Oh, he does?” returned Ross. “Maybe I’ll find out now what all this is -about.” - -“You’ll find out all right. Mebbe find out more’n ya want.” - -“You know, I don’t think I’m going to like you at all. I shouldn’t be -surprised if I had serious trouble with you yet. But lead on!” - -Ross’s persiflage was far from pleasing to the gunman. He glared -malevolently at Ross for a moment, as if half minded to inflict physical -punishment, finally thought better of it, and then jerked out, “I ain’t -leadin’; I’m followin’. Git movin’!” - -Ross was conducted to the largest of the group of ’dobe buildings, -evidently used as a dwelling, and was ushered directly into a bedroom. - -He had expected anything except what he now saw. The room was such as -might have been found in a brown-stone mansion on Fifth Avenue. The -floor was covered with a deep soft rug. There was a mahogany bed, with a -spotless white spread, and a dressing-table of the same wood. To one side -of the latter stood a full-length plate mirror. - -“The big boss said ya was to shave, an’ then ya was ta dress fer dinner. -Yo’ll find all tha togs there on that bed.” The gunman directed Ross’s -attention to the bed with a flourish of his gun. - -Ross looked. The garments on the bed comprised a complete evening -outfit, from studded shirt to patent-leather pumps. - -He was surprised to find that the clothes fit him well. The pumps were a -trifle tight and the suit was a bit snug, but a half hour later, when he -surveyed himself in the long pier glass, he was well satisfied. - -“All right, keeper, let’s be on our way. I’m curious,” he said. - -His captor conducted him down the long veranda, and a moment later he was -ushered into a large room where a table was laid for dinner. - - -_CHAPTER FIVE_ - -A STRANGE DINNER - -By this time Ross was prepared for almost anything, yet the room that he -now stepped into was even more astounding than the bedroom. - -In the center stood a table arranged for four. It fairly sparkled with -glassware, silver and spotless linen. At one side of the room stood a -huge buffet. Its top was well covered with glasses, liquor shakers and -sundry bottles, the contents of which were obvious. - -The occupants of the room chiefly held his attention, though. They were -three, two men and a woman. Here, at last, he was to know the meaning of -the strange events of the preceding twenty-four hours. - -The two men were standing close together and had evidently been -conversing. Both were in faultless evening dress. The girl stood apart; -aloof, so it seemed. Despite her evening dress, Ross instantly recognized -her as the girl he had found in the canon. - -One of the men was young and exceedingly well built. His wide, heavily -muscled shoulders suggested out-of-the-ordinary strength. His hair was -wiry and red; its color was amply reflected in his ruddy complexion. The -face was strong and would have been attractive but for one feature—the -eyes. The eyes were small, deep-set, and far too close together. They -might have been said to be piggish. The dull glint in them was not -reassuring. Ross knew at once that he did not like this man. - -It was the second of the two men, however, who was really striking. -He was, in fact, an amazing figure. His stature was above the average -height, over six feet, and he was thin to emaciation. Ross thought he -had never seen so tall and yet so slender a man. He was so thin as to be -ludicrous, yet there seemed to be a remarkable whipcord strength about -him. - -His face was narrow and as lean as his body. A thin, high nose divided -a pair of piercing black eyes. It was the eyes that struck instant -attention. Their everchanging lights fairly gleamed. They seemed to be -alive with a thousand fires. - -The impression was instantly registered with Ross that here was a man who -was possessed of unusual personal power, or who was stark mad. Those eyes -could allow of no other conclusion. - -As Ross was ushered into the room it was this strange individual who -instantly stepped forward. - -“Ah, our guest has arrived,” he said. His voice was soft as velvet, yet -it carried an irritating quality that was thin-edged and biting, and -scarcely concealed. “Step right up, Mr. Waring; dinner will be served at -once. Wong, the wine.” - -From somewhere the Chinese, Wong, had glided forth and, drawing out a -chair, indicated Ross’s place at the table. Immediately he had filled the -glasses with a sparkling liquid. Ross recognized it as champagne. - -There was no chance to reply. In fact, Ross was too bewildered to think -of anything adequate to say. In a moment he would be himself again, but -just now his wits were all at cross purposes. - -As the elderly man greeted Ross, the girl and younger man took their -places at the table as if they had only been waiting his arrival to -proceed with the meal. As Ross stepped forward, at the servant’s -indication, his host reached out and lifted the wine glass at his plate. - -“We will drink to the health of our guest,” he said evenly. - -Automatically, Ross lifted his glass. The others did likewise. For an -instant the four glasses were held aloft, the lights playing on their -sparkling depths. Then the elderly man turned to Ross with a rather -elaborate low bow and said in a voice that was like gray steel: - -“Mr. Waring, allow us to drink to your most excellent good health——_for -tomorrow you hang_!” - -The words were like an icy blast. Up to that moment the whole affair had -been rather ludicrous to Ross. He had realized that he was in danger at -times, but that this danger would involve the loss of his life he had not -for a moment imagined. - -Now he realized that his very life was at stake; more than that, unless -he could find some way to extract himself from his predicament, that -he was sure to forfeit it. There could be no denying the import of the -toast. Ross did not know why, but he did know that this tall, lean -stranger with the mad eyes meant to kill him as sure as he stood there. - -For a moment, the young New Yorker lost his complacency. He stood with -the glass poised in his hand, his brain whirling. But this was only for -a moment. In a second he had regained his poise. Raising the glass to his -lips, he drained it to the bottom and turned to his host. - -“Thank you, sir,” he said carelessly, “for your kind wishes for my good -health. I hate to dispute you, but I _don’t_ believe you will hang me in -the morning. And my name is not Waring, either. It happens to be Ross.” - -“As you will, Mr. Waring, as you will. Any name would do as well. And -I assure you I shall have the pleasure of hanging you in the morning. -Let me warn you, too, Mr. Waring, not to attempt anything. I want this -dinner peaceful. It is an engagement dinner,” turning with an exaggerated -bow to the girl, “the occasion of the betrothal of my dear niece to Mr. -Beebe here. I _know_ you will be interested in that, Mr. Waring. But -just to forestall any idea you might have of providing any unnecessary -entertainment I have stationed my friends, Mr. Garfin and Mr. Poole, at -the door with instructions to shoot if you get unruly. Now, let us eat.” - -Ross glanced over his shoulder to find Garfin lounging in the door -by which he had entered, a malignant smile wrinkling his face. In an -opposite doorway lounged another individual fully as ugly looking as -Garfin. This was evidently Poole. Both had guns. It was obvious that for -the present no break for liberty was possible. - -For the most part, that dinner was a nightmare to Ross. Afterward he -wondered how he had managed to get through it. - -After the first effusion, the elderly man made no effort to include Ross -in the conversation. Glad of this respite, Ross attempted to collect his -wits and to form some estimate of his predicament and of the people with -whom he had to deal. - -The elderly man carried on a continuous animated conversation, mostly -with the man whom he had designated as Beebe. Several times he addressed -himself to Ross, but always in such a manner that it was obvious no -answer was expected. A number of times he included the girl in his -conversation, but the only time she made reply was to answer a question, -and then it was merely to say, “No, Uncle Arthur.” - -Once or twice Beebe addressed the elderly man as “Mr. Ward,” so Ross -concluded that his name was Arthur Ward. The girl’s identity he was not -able to learn, except that her first name was Virginia. - -Beebe ignored Ross and by his attitude seemed to be currying favor with -Ward. As for the girl, she remained silent, her eyes downcast, palpably -holding herself aloof. Once or twice Ross caught a fleeting message from -her eyes. It seemed to him that she was in utter terror, yet in perfect -control of her nerves. - -In those flashing telegrams from her eyes Ross was sure he caught a mute -appeal for help. If this was a betrothal dinner Ross felt sure that the -betrothal was without the consent of one of the parties concerned, and he -was determined then and there not only to effect his own escape but to -aid the girl as well. - -The food was excellent and perfectly served by the Chinese, yet Ross -could not have told a single item, and he thought the dinner never would -end. The presence of Garfin and Poole was mute evidence that for the -present he could do nothing. When the meal finally came to an end and -Ward pushed back his chair, it brought a feeling of distinct relief to -the young man. Now at least was the beginning of the end. - -“Now, Mr. Waring,” said Ward suavely, “we will repair to my study, where -I have a few things to say to you before we break up this very pleasant -little party. I hardly think my niece will care to accompany us.” - -They rose from the table, and Ross was ushered into an adjoining room -which was even more striking in its way than either of the others he had -been in that evening. - -A brisk fire burned on a wide hearth from above which looked down a -magnificent ram’s head. Other trophies of a similar nature adorned -the other walls. Interspersed with these were guns, Indian weapons, -horsehair lariats—in fact, every accoutrement and trophy of the old-time -West. It was a rather remarkable collection, one which under different -circumstances would have deeply interested Stanley Ross. - -Instantly he knew where those curious antiquated shackles, which had -bound the girl, had come from. Here were several similar pairs. - -Ross was directed to a chair in front of the fire. Ward took another, -facing him, while Beebe sat down on a wide bench on the far side of the -fire. Ross waited expectantly. - -Ward offered his guest a cigar. Selecting one for himself, he clipped its -end very deliberately and lit it with aggravating leisure. Finally he -leaned back in his chair and gazed steadily at Ross with his mad eyes. A -tiny smile, cynical and cruel, crooked around his thin-lipped mouth. - -“I could have had you killed at once, Mr. Waring,” he said deliberately, -his voice soft and well-modulated, yet biting, burning, “but I did not -choose to do that. Instead, I wanted to bring you here this evening so -that you could fully realize just what a serious thing it is, and how -useless it is to buck Arthur Ward. And then, too, I wanted my niece to -know that I am to be obeyed absolutely.” - -“I suppose, Mr. Ward,” asked Ross, “that it would be quite useless to -tell you that my name is not Waring at all; that I do not even know -any one of that name, or that I have never seen your niece, until last -evening?” - -“Quite useless, I can assure you, Mr. Waring. I am absolutely certain of -your identity. I do not make mistakes. - -“Mr. Waring, I never forget an injury. I remember forever, and my one bad -trait is the fact that I always have revenge. I would have got you in the -end, Waring, anyway, but your fool stunt of following my niece here saved -me a lot of trouble. Waring, you should have known that of all people on -earth you would have the least chance of marrying my niece. - -“Tonight you can have the extreme pleasure of reflecting that you will -hardly be dead before Virginia will be the wife of Beebe.” - -“And suppose she refuses?” asked Ross. - -“We are a hundred miles from anywhere, Waring. Things could happen that -would make Virginia glad to marry Beebe—or any one. - -“One more thing, Waring, and then we will terminate this interview,” -Ward went on dispassionately. “I want you to know that this is only the -beginning. I shall not be satisfied until I have exterminated your entire -family. It may take me years, but I shall certainly have the pleasure of -killing your brother and your father. It does not pay to do injury to -Arthur Ward. - -“You will have tonight to reflect on what might have been. In the morning -I shall hang you. - -“That is all I have to say, and since it will be quite useless for you -to say anything you may as well return to your room. Mr. Garfin and Mr. -Poole will see that you have safe conduct.” - -Ross knew that for the present he would have to submit. Resistance would -be useless just now. He was one against four. The odds were too great. He -could only wait, hoping that the night would bring opportunity. - -However, before he went he could not resist a last display of -bravado—bravado which he did not by any means feel. - -Rising from his seat, Ross bowed low to Ward. - -“Good-night, Mr. Ward. Thank you for a most excellent dinner and a most -entertaining evening. And let me assure you that you will _not_ hang me -in the morning.” - -Turning on his heel, Ross passed out of the room. - - -_CHAPTER SIX_ - -A FORLORN HOPE - -When Ross stepped out into the darkness his first thought was that he -would make a dash for liberty. This hope died almost before it was born, -though, for he felt the muzzle of a revolver pressed close to his ribs -and Garfin’s rasping voice growled into his ear: - -“Make just one move fer a break an’ I’ll plug ya. The boss says he’s -goin’ to hang ya in the morning, but I’d like to save him tha trouble.” - -Ross knew that Garfin was not indulging in idle words. The gunman would -gladly kill him. Then, too, out in the shadows another form kept them -close company. He knew this was Poole and that should he succeed in -worsting Garfin his chance of escaping the second gunman’s bullets was -very remote. No, the time was not yet. - -The three trudged back to Ross’s one-room prison, and it was only a -minute or two until the door had slammed on him, the bolt had fallen into -place and the lock snapped its vicious message. - -He was once more a prisoner. - -Ross sought in the darkness for the crude chair and threw himself down -into it. He knew that for the time being there was no chance of escape, -so he gave himself up momentarily to a contemplation of his plight. - -Who was this strange girl whom he had rescued, only to have her vanish -into the night? Why had she not spoken tonight? Why had she given him no -hint of action? Who was Beebe, that he would accept a betrothal which was -obviously odious to the girl? And, lastly, who was Ward with his mad eyes? - -Who was Waring, and what had he done to merit such malicious vengeance on -the part of Ward? - -These and many other questions Ross asked himself, but he had no -satisfactory answer to any one of them. Only a jumble of baffling mystery -presented itself. His brain seethed with impossible solutions, but he had -to admit that actually he was completely at sea. - -Only a few facts stood out which could be accepted as a basis on which to -work. - -He, Ross, had been taken for another man, Waring by name. Ward evidently -hated Waring intensely and was determined to put him to death for a -wrong, either fancied or real. There could be no doubt, too, that Ward -was, in a degree, insane. - -What part Beebe was playing Ross could not determine, beyond the facts -that he was in favor with Ward and that he wanted the girl and would take -her on whatever terms he could get her. - -The girl was obviously in great peril. It could be seen that she hated -Beebe, but at the same time was powerless to resist any order of her -uncle. Ross could readily see that she was in a position where death -might well be preferable to what she was facing. - -And, undeniably, there was the fact that he, Ross, was sure to meet death -in the morning unless he could devise some way out of his dilemma. - -The night was far gone when he had finished considering these things. -It was then that a plan of action first suggested itself to him. As it -matured in his mind he realized that it was a forlorn hope; but his -circumstances were so utterly desperate that there seemed nothing to do -but give it a trial. He knew that its success would depend entirely on -the element of surprise. - -Having once settled in his mind what he should do, Ross threw himself -down on the crude table and was soon sound asleep. - -It was hardly daylight when he awoke, but he did not allow himself to -drop back to sleep again. He was going to be ready. - -It was fully three hours later that he heard approaching footsteps. -Slipping quietly across the room, Ross flattened himself against the wall -beside the door and waited. - -The footsteps drew nearer and nearer. A key grated in the lock. It -clicked. The bolt was raised. Slowly the door swung on its hinges. - -Like a flash, Ross slipped from his hiding-place and darted through the -doorway. The only human within sight was Garfin. Like a mad thunderbolt -Ross bore down upon him. - -Taken by surprise, Garfin barely had time to fire before Ross was upon -him. Too startled to take definite aim, his bullet went wild. With a -force that was terrific Ross struck him with the full impact of his body. -The two went down in a tangled heap. Garfin’s gun was knocked from his -grasp and went spinning a dozen feet away. - -Garfin was not without courage of a kind, but all his life he had -depended on a gun to enforce his arguments. Physical combat had not been -one of his long suits, and now he found himself no match for his younger -antagonist. - -Stan Ross was far from a weakling physically. Long months afoot in -the desert had made him as hard as nails. Not so long ago he had been -known as a football player of some note. Now he used that knowledge of -rough-and-tumble combat to the fullest extent. - -Taking Garfin by surprise, Ross had the initial advantage, and when the -two went down he was on top. Striking, kicking, using the crushing force -of his body, he went at the gunman in a demoniacal storm. For an instant -it looked as though he would beat his enemy into insensibility before he -could offer any material resistance. - -But Garfin was fighting for his life and he knew it. He was not to be -vanquished so easily. In a moment the two men were threshing and rolling -on the ground in a fierce struggle. - -Youth, however, was not to be denied. Those sledge-hammer blows were -having a telling effect. Garfin was weakening. Gradually Ross was wearing -him down. - -Ross sought the throat of his enemy. Garfin’s breath came in gasps. His -eyes were bulging. Gradually Ross brought his knee up until it pressed -into Garfin’s stomach. A final effort would end the struggle. Slowly -Garfin’s head bent backward. Then— - -A crashing, blinding blow caught Ross on his head. For a brief instant a -million fires flamed before his eyes. Then utter blackness. - -He slumped forward across the body of his antagonist. - - -_CHAPTER SEVEN_ - -WONG INTERVENES - -When Ross returned to consciousness it was with a sense of bewilderment. -His head seemed alive with shooting pains: his eyes burned intensely; his -body was sore and stiff. - -Gradually he fought the fog from his brain and opened his eyes. He was -dimly aware that he was back in his prison room, stretched out on the -table. Painfully he sat up. - -And then he saw that he was not alone. There was another person in the -room. As his eyes pierced the semi-gloom he was aware that the man before -him was Arthur Ward. - -Instantly his brain cleared, and he swung himself around to face his -jailor. - -Ward was standing in the center of the room, his feet wide apart, his -hands behind his back. A sardonic smile disfigured his face. - -“Well,” he inquired, “so you decided not to die?” - -“Yes, I decided not to die,” said Ross. “I might remind you, too, that it -is no longer morning and I have not been hung.” - -“No, and you’re not going to be, either. I have prepared a much more -pleasant death for you.” - -“Thanks!” - -“Don’t waste your thanks,” replied Ward. “Before you’re through you’ll be -far from thanking me. You see, Waring, your little outbreak this morning -set me to thinking. If you had taken things quietly I would have hung -you, and it would all be over now. But you had to try to escape and that -set me to thinking that hanging was too pleasant for you. It would be -over too quickly. There would be no time for reflection. So I devised -something really fitting for your case.” - -While Ward was speaking the man Poole had entered, carrying a wooden box -which he deposited gingerly in one corner and then quickly withdrew. He -seemed afraid. - -“Yes, Waring,” Ward went on, “I’ve planned a death for you that I like -much better than hanging. And, damn your rotten soul to eternity,” he -snarled, “you’ll know what real torture is before you go out!” - -With a sudden movement, he whirled, kicked the lid from the box, darted -through the doorway, and had crashed the door shut before Ross fairly -realized what he was doing. - -Half bewildered, it was a moment before he could attach any meaning to -Ward’s action. Then it dawned on him that there was a deep significance -to the box which Poole had brought in. Some sinister portent lay in that -box of wood. - -Fascinated, Ross sat watching the box, realizing that it held his fate, -scarce knowing what to expect, and certainly not expecting what developed. - -For a long minute nothing happened. Ross grew nervous with the strain. -Then a faint buzzing came from the box. Silence. Again came that strange -sound. And again. A slithering rustle as of stiff silk rubbed together. - -And then Ross’s scalp prickled with horror and his blood fairly froze in -his veins, for over the edge of the box appeared a hideous, swaying head! -There came a second! A third! And then a fourth! - -_They were huge diamond-back rattlesnakes!_ - -As Ross recognized the big diamond-backs he knew instantly that he was -trapped. To step down onto the floor meant death, a horrible, grewsome -death. To remain on the table— - -Instinctively, he drew his feet up onto the table as the big reptiles -left the box, one by one. He counted eight in all. - -Ross gave himself up to black despair. Down there on the floor awaited a -fate too hideous for words.... - - * * * * * - -It must have been fully two hours later, and dusk was already settling -down and darkening the room, when Ross heard footsteps. - -They approached his prison. For a moment his heart leaped within him at -the possibility of rescue. But the door did not open. Instead, he heard -the taunting voice of Ward from outside: - -“Oh, you’re safe enough so far, Waring. They can’t get you as long as -you stay on that table. I planned that. Wasn’t it kind of me to be so -thoughtful? But there won’t be any food and there won’t be any water, and -all the time you’ll be going through hell. I planned that, too. And then -there’ll come a time when you can’t stand it any longer. You’ll either -fall from the table from weakness, or you’ll go mad and step down onto -the floor. They’ll always be waiting, Waring. And then they’ll get you, -damn you!” The voice, rising to a shrill crescendo of passion, ended in a -burst of wild maniacal laughter. - -Receding footsteps told him that Ward had gone away. - -As the gloom deepened into utter darkness it seemed to Ross that he would -go mad. His brain seethed with wild impulses. A hundred times he pictured -himself lying there on the floor, a bloated, blackened thing. A hundred -times he went through death. Only that hope which “springs eternal” kept -him from stepping down onto the floor and making an end of it. - -Gradually Ross quieted. He finally settled back against the wall in a -state of apathy, little knowing or little caring when the end would come. - -An hour passed. - -Suddenly Ross became aware of an unusual sound. From somewhere in back -of him came a low “_Hist!_” so low as hardly to be heard. Stealthily, he -raised himself to the height of the barred window and peered into the -darkness. - -Dimly he could make out a head outlined against the sky. A low, whispered -voice spoke: - -“_You take!_” - -Unmistakably it was the voice of Wong. There was a grating sound as of -something being passed between the bars. - -Ross reached out his hand and it closed over cold steel. - -An automatic! - -“_You take!_” again came the whispered voice. - -This time Ross found his hand closing over a cartridge belt. - -“Me bring Ga’fin. _You shoot!_” - -Like a ghost, the form at the window was gone without a sound. - -With the feel of that cold steel in his hand Ross’s spirits rose like a -tide. All his waning confidence returned. He was instantly his own man -again, confident, cool, without fear. - -Quickly he buckled the belt around his waist. With sure fingers, he made -certain that the gun was loaded. Slipping off the safety, he knelt on the -table, facing the door, and waited. - -Ross did not know whether he would ever leave that room alive, but he did -know that the first men to open the door would die. - - -_CHAPTER EIGHT_ - -“YOU’LL SETTLE WITH ME” - -Arthur Ward stood with his back to the big living-room fire, his feet -wide apart, hands crossed behind his back, head lowered, eyes peering -from beneath shaggy brows. It was a characteristic attitude and one which -peculiarly expressed the man’s calculated cruelty. - -Beebe was seated on the wide fireplace bench, his feet stretched far in -front of him. He was slowly smoking, his whole sprawling attitude one of -indolent approval. Things were shaping themselves quite to the liking of -Larson Beebe. - -The girl, Virginia, was seated in a chair somewhat in front of her uncle. -The wild look of her eyes and her agitated face told that she was going -through an ordeal that was breaking her bit by bit. - -“But, Uncle Arthur,” she burst out, “surely you can’t mean to do this -terrible thing. Why, I don’t love Mr. Beebe at all. I scarcely know him, -and I don’t want to marry anyone.” - -“My dear niece,” replied Ward evenly, “love has no part in my scheme of -things. Hate rules the world, and hate is my creed. Love makes people -soft and indolent. Hate is the great inspirator. Hate makes the world go -’round. - -“Sentiment has no place whatever in this marriage. It is entirely a -marriage of convenience. Your personal inclinations have no weight -whatever. I wish you to marry Beebe; therefore you will do it.” - -The girl’s color had heightened as she listened to her uncle’s ultimatum. -As he finished, a grim expression of defiance settled on his face. - -“Well, I won’t!” she answered crisply. - -“As you will, Virginia, but if you do not consent to marry Beebe within -twenty-four hours I shall leave you here alone with him. I imagine after -a couple of weeks of that you’ll be quite willing to marry him.” - -“Oh, you beast!” For an instant, as Ward’s full meaning became clear to -her, it looked as though the girl would faint. - -Then, like a wild beast at bay, she turned on Beebe in a burst of blazing -fury. - -“And you, Larson Beebe, what have you to say? Are you going to be a party -to this? Are you as much a beast as my uncle?” - -Beebe regarded her tolerantly for a moment out of his piggish eyes before -he spoke. A catlike smile of satisfaction curved his lips. He answered -slowly, indolently: - -“Virginia, I am wild about you. I want you, and I am going to have you. -As long as you refuse to love me I’m not at all particular how I get you. -One way suits me as well as another.” - -The girl turned back to her uncle. Her hands went out in an imploring -gesture. For an instant she seemed about to plead. Then she evidently -thought better of it. - -“I suppose you understand, Uncle Arthur,” she asked in a low cold voice, -“that I will kill myself before I will let this happen?” - -“My dear Virginia, you do not seem to understand the situation at all. -You are absolutely in my power. You cannot kill yourself because I will -not permit it. I will not give you the chance. You will do exactly as I -say.” - -“_Not yet, Ward! First, you’ll settle with me!_” - -Stanley Ross stood in the doorway. But it was not the Stanley Ross, -urbane, bored, carefree, who, a few days before, had whimsically sought -adventure up an unknown canon trail. He had found adventure now, and it -had used him roughly. His face and hands were grimy. His clothes were -dirty and torn. One sleeve had been almost rent from his shoulder. His -hair was riotously disheveled and clotted with blood. Down one side of -his face extended a great splash of dirty dried blood. - -In his right hand was an ugly-looking automatic, and in his face and eyes -was a look of savage fury. - -At the sound of Ross’s voice, Ward whirled and whipped out a gun. But -he was too late, for Ross, with a steadiness and coldness belied by -the savagery of his face and figure, had fired. A look of unutterable -amazement overspread the face of Arthur Ward. He wavered on his feet for -a moment, and then, when a spot of red began to widen on his shirt front, -he toppled backward, lifeless. - -Almost at the same instant a hatchet hurtled through the room and buried -its blade deep in the wall beside Larson Beebe, missing his head by -the merest fraction of an inch. Wong was going into action. Beebe slid -forward from his seat and ducked to temporary safety behind the table. - -Ward had not had time to aim, but he had instinctively pulled the -trigger. The bullet caught Ross on the head and cut a long shallow furrow -just above his left temple. The wound itself was not serious, but for a -moment it blinded Ross. That moment was fatal, for as he roused himself -from the shock he knew that he had forgotten Poole. - -Instantly Ross whirled to face the other doorway, but was too late. The -heavy bullet spun him half around. For an instant he fought to retain his -balance. Then he pitched forward onto the floor. - -Painfully, with almost a superhuman effort, Ross raised himself with one -hand and deliberately shot Poole through the chest. - -Then, mercifully, consciousness was blotted out. - - -_CHAPTER NINE_ - -VIRGINIA EXPLAINS - -When Ross returned to consciousness it was to a blurred, feverish, -pain-wracked world. - -He did not know where he was or what had happened. He only knew that his -head was bandaged and splitting with pain; that his shoulder was stiff -and sore, incapable of being moved even the fraction of an inch, and that -it pained with a dull, throbbing hurt; that his eyes burned and blurred; -and that his entire body burned with ten thousand fires. - -Of one thing more was Ross conscious. That was the girl. When she saw -that Ross had temporarily come out of the fog she hurried to his side and -answered the unasked question on his lips by holding a cup of cold water -to them. She seemed to have been waiting for ages to do just that. - -Ross drank gratefully, but when he would have questioned her she laid her -finger across his lips and said; - -“_Sh-h-h-ush!_ Not now. We’ll talk when you feel better. Just now you -need sleep more than anything else.” - -And Stanley Ross obeyed. In an instant he was asleep, a wild, feverish -sleep that brought no rest. - -There followed days of half consciousness, half nightmare; days when Ross -neither knew nor cared what happened, when wild delirium alternated with -painful reality. - -He was far too ill to make any inquiries about anything that had -happened. In fact, he was only conscious of the fact that whenever the -fog lifted the girl always seemed to be present—a ministering angel who -brought cooling draughts, and soothing applications for his head and -shoulders. - -Finally there came a day when Ross awoke to a sane world. The fever fog -had departed from his brain. His head no longer throbbed and beat like -a thousand devils. His shoulder was sore and stiff, but it no longer -was filled with maddening pain. He was weak, very weak, but the world -was once more interesting and he was acutely aware of a most prodigious -appetite. - -Ross was aware that he was in the room to which he had been conducted -by Garfin on the night of the strange dinner. Beyond that, he was not -interested. He was aware that the girl was still acting as his nurse. - -At meal time the Chinese, Wong, came in with a tray. He was still too -weak to care as to the whereabouts of the others, or what had happened on -the night of the fight. - -He did learn that the girl’s name was Virginia Carver, but that was all. - -In less than a week he was sitting out on the long veranda every -afternoon. With returning strength came returning curiosity. He wanted to -know the story of this strange habitation in the desert and to learn just -what had happened on the night Wong had aided him to escape. - -Several times he broached the subject to the girl, but each time she put -him off with the statement that he was not yet strong enough to talk. The -excuse was obviously becoming threadbare, however, as his health improved. - -One afternoon, while Ross was sitting on the veranda, the girl came -out and took a seat opposite him. It was patent that the time for -explanations had come. - -“I suppose, Mr. Ross,” began Virginia Carver, “that you have been -wondering just what this whole thing is about, and you certainly are -entitled to an explanation. I don’t know how I am ever going to thank you -for what you have done for me. You were very brave.” - -“Well, suppose you forget about the thanks, Miss Carver,” said Ross, -visibly embarrassed. “I _would_ like to know all about this queer affair, -though. I thought Arabian Nights were ancient history, but I’m about -ready to believe anything.” - -“In order for you to understand I’ll have to take you back about seven -years,” explained the girl. “At that time my uncle, Arthur Ward, was one -of the biggest operators in Wall Street. All his life he has been a very -peculiar man; eccentric; always doing queer things for which there seemed -no explanation, and never taking any one into his confidence. - -“In the Street he was known as a plunger. He made a great deal of money. -Just how much I have no idea beyond the fact that he was always very -generous with my mother, his sister. But at one time he must have been -very wealthy indeed. - -“Seven years ago it seems that he plunged too heavily and got caught. -His fortune was practically wiped out. When everything was settled up he -was still a wealthy man—that is, he was probably worth a half million -dollars—but the great bulk of his fortune was gone. - -“He fought fiercely to keep from going under. There were days and nights -at a time when I don’t think he slept at all. He was like a wild man, but -the combination against him was too great and he went under. - -“At first we thought he was going to lose his mind. For weeks he acted -very queer. Finally he seemed to get a hold on himself and he appeared -rational. - -“He settled up his business, and then suddenly disappeared. He left no -word where he was going—just dropped out of sight. That was seven years -ago, and for two years we heard nothing from him. Five years ago I got a -letter from him asking me to visit him here. I came and found things just -about as you see them now. - -“He seemed perfectly rational and contented. Of course, he was queer and -erratic, but he had always been that. He seemed to have forgotten Wall -Street entirely and spent most of his time making a collection of the -accoutrements of horse and man of the old-time West. I doubt if there is -a finer collection in existence. - -“He did a lot of entertaining, too, for his old friends, inviting them -out for long visits. Here his eccentricity cropped out, for he insisted -on going to great lengths to have everything just as it would be in New -York. There must be fifteen dress suits in the house, and he always asked -every one to dress for dinner. He imported wines and foods. Wong has been -with him ever since he has been here and he is an excellent cook. - -“I came out every year. He was always very kind to me and has made every -effort to entertain me. I thought he acted a little more queer each year, -and I often wondered if he was not a little unbalanced mentally. - -“When I came out this year there was a great change. I saw at once -that he was quite mad. He imagined that he was being persecuted by the -Warings, and kept Poole and Garfin, New York gunmen, to protect him. -The Warings were the people who engineered his defeat in Wall Street, -and Uncle Arthur hated them intensely. He not only imagined they were -persecuting him, but he also imagined that the younger Waring, whom I -have never seen, was trying to marry me. This seemed to be an obsession -with him. - -“When I got here I found that Larson Beebe was Uncle Arthur’s guest. I -had met Mr. Beebe in New York several times, and I detested him. I had -good reason to. He—well, I have always despised him. - -“Just what his hold or influence on Uncle Arthur was I haven’t the -slightest idea, but I had hardly arrived before Uncle Arthur began to -insist that I marry him. - -“Of course, I refused, and it was then that Uncle Arthur’s insanity came -to the surface. He had always been kindness itself, but now he suddenly -became the very incarnation of cruelty. While there was no question but -that he was entirely mad, yet in his madness his brain was as shrewd and -cunning as ever. - -“When I refused to marry Beebe he began to practice his cruelties on me -in an effort to break my will. I was utterly at his mercy, for there was -no way that I could escape. All I could do was submit. - -“The culmination of his indignities was to chain me to the rocks where -you found me. Whether he would have left me there till I was dead I -hardly know, but I think not. His brain was so unbalanced that it would -be hard to tell. - -“I ran away that night because I knew he would kill you if he found -you with me. Evidently he had Garfin watching me, or he would not have -learned that you had released me. He was obsessed with the idea that you -were the younger Waring. - -“The rest of the story you know. I dare not think of what would have -happened to me if you had not come to my rescue, Mr. Ross.” - -“But what really happened the night I escaped?” asked Ross. - -“Well—you shot both Uncle Arthur and Poole,” she replied hesitatingly. - -“Did I—did I—” he floundered helplessly. - -“Yes,” she replied evenly. “Providence helped your aim that night. Wong -buried them both. No, Mr. Ross,” she finished, as she noted the look on -his face, “don’t feel that way about it. If you hadn’t killed them they -would have killed you, and I would have suffered a fate worse than death. -Under the circumstances I cannot feel sorry.” - -“What happened to Beebe?” asked Ross, curious as to the fate of that -dubious individual. - -“That’s a mystery. He simply disappeared that night and we have not seen -him since. Wong just barely missed him that night with a hatchet. I think -he is deathly afraid of Wong. At any rate, he is gone. And now, Mr. Ross, -I want to ask you a question: How did you manage to escape from your -prison that night? Wong won’t tell me a thing. He just grins when I ask -him, and I suspect I owe a great deal to Wong.” - -“You surely do, Miss Carver,” answered Ross fervently. “That Chinaman is -a wonder. In some way he got hold of my automatic and cartridge belt. He -passed them to me through the window, and then, under some pretense, got -Garfin to come and open the door. Then—well, Garfin won’t ever bother us -again.” - - -_CHAPTER TEN_ - -A NEW DANGER - -With the passing days, Ross found new strength and new interest. His -head was already healed and his shoulder, beyond being stiff, no longer -bothered him. While still somewhat weak, he was able to walk about as he -pleased. - -He found it very pleasant to pass the afternoons away on the long -veranda. Here he was often joined by Virginia Carver, and the two spent -hours together that were very pleasant. In fact, Ross suddenly became -acutely aware that he was taking more than a passing interest in this -girl. - -Virginia Carver was exceedingly lovely. Moreover, she was of a type and -personality that particularly appealed to Stanley Ross. While she was -nursing him through his illness he had found her presence very pleasing. -Now that he was nearly well, her companionship was becoming even more -delightful, and he realized that, as far as he was concerned, friendship -was ripening into something more definite. As he continued to improve he -knew that the time was fast approaching when they would have to leave -this desert oasis. - -He found his mind continually recurring to Larson Beebe. How had he -managed to disappear so completely that night? Where had he gone? What -was he doing now? Ross could not dismiss the idea that they would hear -from Beebe again, and that when they did it would mean trouble. - -This conviction was the more firmly fixed in his mind by the actions of -Virginia Carver. Ross felt sure that the girl was deeply worried over -something; she seemed anxious and nervous; she appeared to be continually -watching and listening for something. Intuition told Ross that the cause -of her perturbation was Beebe. - -Intuition again told him that perhaps Wong could throw some light on the -situation. The next time that the Chinese appeared on the veranda Ross -stopped him. - -“Wong,” he said, “Miss Carver seems to be worried about something. Do you -know what it is? Is it about Beebe? Do you know where he is?” - -Wong’s face betrayed not a single glimmer of comprehension. - -“No savvy,” he said. - -“Yes, you do savvy, too. What’s wrong here? Where’s Beebe?” - -Wong glanced hurriedly up and down the veranda as though he feared some -one would overhear him. Then he jerked a meaning finger toward the mouth -of the little canon. - -“Him there,” he said in a low voice. - -“What do you mean?” - -“Him hide in canon. Kill all we go out.” - -“We don’t have to go out that way.” - -“No other way can go,” explained Wong. - -“What! You mean to tell me that’s the only way out of this place? Why -can’t we go out over the cliffs?” - -“No can do,” replied the Chinese, and was gone before Ross could question -him further. - -So that was it! The canon was the only way out of the basin, and Beebe -was hiding down there, waiting to pot them as they came out. Quite a neat -little idea! So that was why Virginia Carver was carrying that worried -look. - -Ross went straight to the girl. He found her in the dining-room. - -“Miss Carver,” he asked, “why didn’t you tell me that Beebe was down in -that canon?” - -“Well, I couldn’t see any use worrying you with that while you were so -ill,” she replied, smiling. “And then, too, Mr. Ross, I think you are a -little inclined to do impulsive things, and it seems to me you have ran -risks enough on my account.” - -Ross ignored this last. - -“Then he really is there?” he asked. - -“Yes, Mr. Ross, he is, and I am afraid that we are in rather a bad way. -He has all the advantage.” - -“But isn’t there any way out of this place except through that canon?” - -“None at all. Uncle Arthur selected this place for that very reason. -There was a trail up the cliff, but he dynamited that away. Unless we -develop wings we’ll go out through that canon or not at all.” - -Ross pondered for a moment. Finally he asked, “I wonder why he hasn’t -tried to kill Wong and me at night?” - -“There are at least two reasons, I think,” answered the girl. “The first -is that Larson Beebe is a very cautious man. He will not risk a single -hair of his head if it is not necessary. If he came up here he might get -hurt. If he stays there he is perfectly safe and we haven’t a single -chance of getting by. - -“Another thing, I think he is deathly afraid of Wong. He came up in the -night twice and stole provisions. Since then Wong has been watching. I -don’t think he ever sleeps.” - -“Well, we can outlast him anyway, Miss Carver.” - -“But that’s just what we can’t do, Mr. Ross. Our provisions are very -low.” The girl was gravely serious now. “Unless we can find some -solution, I’m afraid he is going to starve us out very soon. It looks -like we were trapped.” - - -_CHAPTER ELEVEN_ - -WONG HAS AN IDEA - -Ross woke the next morning keenly aware of the seriousness of their -predicament. As soon as breakfast was over he set out to examine the -walls of the basin. - -If he had any hope that there was a means of escape over the cliffs he -was soon disillusioned. Nowhere was there a break in the walls. They were -as perpendicular as a plumb-line and as smooth as basalt. Nothing but a -fly could have scaled those cliffs. - -The only way out led through the narrow twisting canon below. And there -Larson Beebe lay in wait like a cat at a rat-hole. Ross realized that -there was little or no chance for him or Wong to get through the canon -alive. Beebe had all the advantage. - -Ross returned to the house and sat down on the veranda. He ran over a -dozen possible schemes for escape, and in the end he had to conclude that -they were all impossible. - -In fact, his only conclusion was that he would give what fortune he -possessed to have Larson Beebe’s neck within the grasp of his two hands. -That, however, seemed to be a remote possibility. If anything, the -situation would be reversed. - -Ross had about exhausted his whole range of impossible schemes when Wong -appeared on the veranda. The Chinese wore an enigmatical smile on his -usually inscrutable face. It was patent that he was well pleased with -something. - -“You come,” he addressed Ross. “Got something show.” - -Ross rose and followed Wong, who led the way to one of the ’dobe -outbuildings. Opening the door, he motioned Ross to enter. - -The room was a work-shop of sorts, but what instantly attracted attention -were two enormous kites leaning against the wall. - -“You see?” inquired Wong. - -“Yes, I see,” said Ross, “only I don’t. What’s the idea, Wong?” - -“Mlisha Beebe kill everybody we go down canon. No can climb out. Wong -make klite. Klite climb out.” - -“Guess I’m pretty thick, Wong. I don’t get it yet.” - -“When Wong little bloy China he fly many klites. Not forget how. Fly -klite now. Klite lift lope top cliff. We climb lope. Go ’way.” - -“By George, Wong, I believe you’ve got it,” cried Ross in admiration. -“But will it work?” - -“Can do” nodded Wong. - -“But how will you fasten the rope at the top of the cliff, Wong?” - -“Wong good klite flyer. Two klites lift big loop. Drop loop over tree -top side cliff. Two ends hang dlown. Mlake slip knot. Pull one lope. All -done.” - -“Wong, you’re a wonder! I believe it’ll work. Worth trying anyway.” - -“Can do. Try tomollow if wind come.” - -Ross hurried away to find Virginia Carver. - -“Miss Carver,” he hailed her joyously, “Wong has got a scheme to get us -out of here, and I believe it will work. He has constructed two enormous -kites down there in the workshop. He claims they will lift a rope, and -he says he can drop it over one of those stunted pines at the top of the -cliff. We climb the rope and leave friend Beebe down in the canon to hold -the bag. Are you game?” - -“Of course I am,” replied the girl, surprised that he should even -question her gameness. - -“I knew you would be. We’re going to try it tomorrow. You had better make -two packs of food.” - -“Two packs? Don’t I carry anything?” asked the girl. - -“Miss Carver,” said Ross gravely, “it’s a long way to civilization, and -it is going to be a big tax on your strength to make it without carrying -anything.” - -“I’ll make it,” said Virginia Carver, as she turned away. - -The following morning Ross was eager for the experiment, but it was -nearly noon before a breeze came up strong enough to lift the kites. - -Virginia Carver came out, clad in flannel shirt, whipcord breeches and -high laced boots. It was a costume well suited to the work ahead, but it -accentuated the girl’s slimness, made her appear almost frail. There was -no frailty there, though. Rather was she supple with the suppleness of a -braided cable, and the girl had the grace of a fine Toledo blade. Once -again Stanley Ross became acutely aware that Virginia Carver had become -an exceedingly important interest in his life. - -Wong had instructed Ross in his scheme for escape. Ross saw at once that -he had not intended to lift a rope heavy enough to hold a human being. -Instead Wong had unearthed from one of the storehouses a very stout light -line. - -The plan was to lift the bight of the line with the two kites and drop -it over a stunted pine growing out at an angle near the top of the north -cliff. A heavier rope could then be attached to one end of this and drawn -up and over the tree, making it possible to climb out. - -Ross saw instantly that the plan was all right if the kites could be -manipulated. That was Wong’s job, and he seemed quite confident. - -All three knew that they must work quickly. If Larson Beebe discovered -their scheme there was no telling what desperate action he might attempt. - -Wong and Ross quickly got the first big kite into action. It rose -readily, but on attaining a height of fifty feet flopped drunkenly. It -did not fall, however—merely dipped and darted. This did not appear to -bother Wong at all. He simply gave the kite string to Virginia Carver to -hold while he quickly flew the second kite with Ross’s help. - -Wong and Ross each took command of a kite now. Slowly paying out cord, -they allowed the kites to rise. When the kites had risen to a height -of about seventy-five feet the cords attached to the bight of the line -suddenly became taut and the line began to rise from the ground. - -It was then that Ross saw that as a designer of kites Wong most -emphatically knew his business, for the instant the weight of the -line was borne by the kites in that instant they ceased their drunken -plungings and flew steadily. - -Ross’s heart leaped within him, for he knew now that Wong’s scheme would -work and that they were going to circumvent Larson Beebe. Up, up, the -kites rose. A hundred feet! Two hundred! Five! A thousand! - -The two kites were about thirty feet apart, and when it was obvious that -the line was higher than the cliff wall Wong and Ross began to walk -slowly forward. Their objective was a single low pine growing at an -outward angle near the top of the cliff. Aiming carefully at this, Wong -and Ross brought the kites to a position where an end of the line dangled -on each side of the tree and against the cliff. The bight of the line was -slightly above the tree, and the kites were pulling it forward. - -“Missee, you grab ropes,” shouted Wong. - -Quickly divining what was wanted of her, Virginia Carver grasped the ends -of the dangling lines. - -“Let glo!” shouted Wong again. - -Instantly he and Ross released the kite cords. The kites plunged -drunkenly down out of sight over the top of the cliff. The bight of the -line dropped neatly over the pine tree and slid down its trunk to the -roots. The thing was done! - -Ross wanted to shout for pure joy. Elation showed in Virginia Carver’s -every feature. As for Wong, the author of this daring scheme, he merely -grinned, and went swiftly to work. - -Somewhere in one of the buildings Wong had discovered a coil of light -rope. It had undoubtedly been brought in to be made up into lariats, for -it was very pliable and exceedingly strong—strong enough to support the -weight of a heavy man. - -One end of this was fastened to a free end of the line over the tree. -When Wong pulled sharply on the opposite end of the smaller line it -slipped readily over the tree trunk. In a minute or two the end of the -rope had been pulled up over the tree trunk and back to the canon floor. -Thus was the light line replaced by the heavier one. - -There was no place to anchor one of the rope ends so Wong simply tied a -loop in one end of the rope, passed the other end through it, making a -running noose, and quickly ran it up to the tree. Wong’s kites had proved -their worth. The means of escape was provided and ready. - -“Wong go first,” said the Chinese. Without argument or permission, the -intrepid Wong was assuming the risk of proving the safety of the rope. By -way of explanation he added to Ross, “You shoulda no stlong. No can pull -Missee up, Wong can do.” - -Wong grasped the rope in his hands, and with the agility of a cat, -feet on the canon wall, passed himself, hand over hand, up the face of -the cliff. It seemed hardly a minute before he was at the top and had -scrambled over the edge. - -In a moment his head reappeared and he called down to Ross to send up the -food packs, canteens, and blankets. This was but the work of a moment, -and Wong quickly drew them to the top. - -So far everything had gone well, and there was no sign of Beebe. It -looked as though they were going to make good their escape. - -When Wong let the rope down again Ross fashioned a loop in the end of it, -which he passed over Virginia Carver’s head and secured it under her arms. - -“Now, Miss Carver, if you will take hold of the rope with both hands I -think Wong can pull you up safely,” he said. “If you hit against the -cliff push yourself away with your feet.” - -The girl did not answer him, but she smiled confidently. She accepted her -part in the escape with what appealed to Stanley Ross as being splendid -courage. - -Slowly but very steadily, Wong began to raise the girl. The little -Chinese seemed to be made of steel, for, without stopping once or -increasing or decreasing the speed, he drew Virginia Carver to the top -of the cliff and helped her over the edge. It was a feat of which a man -twice his size might have been justly proud. - -When the rope came down again Ross lost no time. A hasty glance toward -the mouth of the tiny canon revealed no sight of Beebe. Grasping the -rope, Ross began his ascent. - -His shoulder bothered him somewhat, but it was not more than two or three -minutes before he, too, was at the cliff top. - -They were free! - - -_CHAPTER TWELVE_ - -AN ENDING AND A BEGINNING - -Stanley Ross drew himself over the edge of the cliff, where Virginia -Carver and Wong were waiting, and scrambled to his feet. He was exuberant. - -“Well, Miss Carver, I guess we’re safe all right, thanks to Wong here,” -he exulted. “All that remains now is to make tracks away from this -accursed place.” - -“So you think you’re safe, eh?” snarled a cold voice. - -Ross whirled to find himself facing Larson Beebe. Beebe was covering him -steadily with a big automatic, and his deep set, piggish eyes had an -insane light in them. - -Ross’s heart sank within him. He had expected an attack from Beebe from -below, but that he might be waiting for them on the cliff top never -entered his head. He was utterly helpless now. Beebe had the drop on him -and could kill him twice over before he could draw his own gun. Moreover, -it was certain Beebe intended doing that very thing. - -Ross was filled with a sense of futility, impotency. That he was about -to die he did not consider. He was merely disgusted with himself for -allowing himself to be checkmated when the game was practically won. - -“So you thought you could get away?” Beebe was going on. It was obvious -that he, too, was nearly insane. “Thought I was asleep, eh? I knew what -was up as soon as I saw the kites. I could have got you then, but I -figured the easiest and safest way would be to slip up here and wait -behind a rock till you were all up. You wouldn’t be looking for me and I -could pot you easily. Well, I’m here and you’re due for a long journey. - -“Thought you could outwit Larson Beebe, eh? I’m just going to shoot you -and your precious Chink friend here now and kick you over the cliff. Then -I’m going to take Virginia and——.” - -Ross was conscious that Wong’s right hand whipped to the base of his -skull just above the collar of his blouse. In the same instant it came -away again and now it held a long, thin, slender glittering blade! - -There was another movement of Wong’s hand so swift that he could not -follow it. Ross only knew that a look of utterably blank amazement had -overspread Larson Beebe’s face. It was as though Beebe had seen a miracle -performed before his eyes and could not fathom it. - -Then, suddenly, Ross saw what had happened. The hilt of the knife that -Wong had held was protruding from Larson Beebe’s ribs! - -For an instant Beebe wavered on his feet. His fingers relaxed and his gun -clattered to the rocks. He pitched forward onto his face. - -“Can do,” muttered Wong. “One day kick Wong. Not kick again.” - - * * * * * - -That night the three camped beside a little water-hole several miles -down the main canon. Around the tiny campfire they made their plans for -getting out of the desert. - -Ross knew the general direction to take, and he felt confident that -by taking it easy the girl would be able to make the journey on foot. -Virginia Carver was confident. - -The following morning Ross was awakened by footsteps on the rocks. He -raised up to see two long-eared animals making their way down the trail -to the water-hole. It was Archibald and Percy! - -Ross let out a shout that instantly roused his companions. - -“There’s your ship of the desert that’s going to carry you back to -civilization,” he called, as Virginia raised up from her blankets. - -The girl did not comprehend. She gazed at the two animals in astonishment -for a moment. - -“But they’re wild, aren’t they?” she asked. - -“Just as wild as two snails,” said Ross. “Those two estimable gentlemen -brought me into this desert, and they’re going to take us out.” - -When breakfast had been finished Ross noticed that Wong was busily -engaged in rearranging the weight of the packs. - -“Never mind the packs, Wong. Friend Archibald here can carry Miss Carver -and Percy can handle the supplies. You and I will go light, Wong,” Ross -explained. - -“No can do,” replied Wong. “Me no go you.” - -“What do you mean, Wong?” - -“Wong go that way,” answered the Chinese, pointing to the south. - -“You go that way,” asked Ross, perplexed. “Why? You’re going with Miss -Carver and me.” - -Wong shook his head. “Wong kill man. Think not stay in ’Nited States. Go -Mexiclo.” - -“Nonsense, Wong,” said Ross. “Miss Carver and I can easily fix that.” - -“Think not. Wong go Mexiclo. Got blother there. Buy li’le res’rant.” - -Ross saw that there was no use in trying to dissuade Wong. There was no -combating such a nature. After a few moments Ross asked: - -“Wong, where you going in Mexico?” - -“Go Wa’lz.” - -“Going to Juarez, eh? What’s your full name?” - -“Name? Wong Chen Chek.” - -“All right, Wong. In about two months you go to the postoffice and -inquire for a registered package. You’ll find enough money in it to buy -the best little restaurant in Juarez.” - -Wong grinned. “Thlank you.” - -Swinging his pack to his shoulder, he swung down the trail without more -ado. - -“Goo’ bye. Goo’ bye, Missee,” came back to Ross and Virginia Carver. - -A half hour later the Chinese disappeared from view far down the canon. -Ross turned to the girl. - -Virginia Carver was gazing far out over the jumble of rocks and sand that -is the Red Desert to where the mists of the morning were dissolving into -the shifting haze of the rising sun. - -For a moment Ross watched her without speaking. Fresh and vibrant with -youth, she was lovely beyond words. - -“I guess we had best be going now,” he said. Then his voice stumbled, -“Miss Carver—Virginia—when we get out of here—I’ve—I’ve something to say -to you.” - -For a long moment the girl continued to look far into the colorful haze -of the desert. Then she turned toward Ross. A peculiarly tender little -smile wreathed her mouth. Her eyes were swimming pools of unshed tears. - -Her voice faltered, “Would—would you mind—saying it now—Stanley?” - - -THE END. - - - - -Chicago Man Attacked by Fighting Owl - - -John Casey, night watchman for the Chicago Protective Agency, while -“walking his beat” one night recently, entered a dark passageway in West -Madison Street; and then, all at once— - -“Something flew at me from the darkness,” he said later, “and knocked -my cap off and began scratching my face and clawing out my hair by the -roots. I made a pass at it, but found I was fanning the air. Then I -saw two blazing eyes, and struck at them. Before I could get out my -gun the monster jumped on me again. I managed to swing on it with my -night-stick—and that ended the fight.” - -To substantiate his story, Watchman Casey exhibited a dead owl measuring -thirty-six inches from tip to tip, also numerous cuts and bruises on his -hands and face. - - - - -_A Powerful Novel of Sinister Madmen That Mounts To An Astounding Climax_ - -The Jailer of Souls - -_Complete In This Issue_ - -_By_ HAMILTON CRAIGIE - - -_CHAPTER ONE_ - -SOUTHWEST OF THE LAW - -[Illustration] - -All the way Westward in the smoker the man in the high-crowned, black -Stetson had taken no part in the conversation. He had appeared to doze, -slumping in the high-backed seat as the train rushed onward into the -golden afternoon. - -The three men at his back had been busy with an interminable round of -poker: draw, jack-pot, and stud; deuces wild, and seven-card peak. They -moved across the aisle now, as the long train slowed for the brief stop -at Two-Horse Canyon, facing him obliquely and a little to his left. - -Twice or thrice they had essayed to draw him into the talk, but -the man in the black Stetson had been oblivious; he had continued -taciturn—morose, almost, one might have said. But he had not been asleep; -rather, he had listened with all his ears as their voices had reached him -between hands: - -“... Yes—Dry Bone—been there myself—they run things pretty much to -suit _themselves_.... Wide-open.... Sure.... You might call it a dead -open-and-shut proposition, I’ll tell a man!” - -The laugh that followed had come to the man in the black Stetson with a -curious, grating note: - -“Sure-thing gamblers; con-men—it’s a regular crook’s paradise.... And -there’s that fellow, Rook....” - -The eyes of the man in the black Stetson narrowed abruptly at the -corners; for a moment, as a curtain is drawn swiftly from right to left, -something arose to peer out of those eyes, glowing, deep-down, like a -still, festering flame. But it was gone upon the instant— - -“... And there’s that fellow, Rook....” the man had said. - -Of a sudden he had stopped short as if he had been muzzled; presently his -voice had come again, dry, matter-of-fact: - -“I’ll see that raise, Carpenter, and it’ll cost you just twenty iron men -to call....” - -Plainly, that name, “Rook,” had been taboo; the speaker had been silently -reminded of it. - -The man in the black Stetson—he had been known as Black Steve Annister -in the back blocks at Wooloomooloof before he had made of that name a -by-word in the honkatonks and the gambling-hells from San Francisco -northward to the Wind River country, and beyond it—Black Steve Annister -was sitting upright now, but he had retired behind a wide-spread copy of -the _Durango County Gazette_. He was not reading it, however, although he -was looking through it—at the three men just across the aisle, studying -them through the pin-pricks he had made in it, himself unseen. - -Annister had arrived in New York only the week previous from Sourabaya, -Java, and he had not waited even overnight before he had begun the long -journey, broken at Washington for half a day, which had taken him now -half way southwestward across the State of Texas. Presently the long -train would cross the Pecos, beyond it the serrated ramparts of the -Guadalupes; Dry Bone was just between. - -Annister, studying the men, frowned abruptly, yawning behind his hand. -Two of the men he put down for ranchers—sheep men, probably; there was -about them none of the glamor of that West which lingers even now in the -person of a cattleman; and these men were negligible. - -But the third man would have been noticeable anywhere. He was a bull’s -bulk of a man, hard-featured, mouth a straight gash above a heavy chin -barbered to the blood; the observer across the aisle would have said -“cowman,” and registered a bull’s eye with it, point-blank. - -The two who were with him, evidently with interests in common, were -scarcely friendly with the cowman, if such he was; it was evident in -their attitude, the constraint which had fallen upon them following that -mention of “Rook.” - -But the man in the black Stetson continued to study the big fellow -through the holes in his newspaper: the hard face, tanned a rich -saddle color; the nose, flattened to a smudge of flaring nostril; the -cauliflower ear. - -He had heard the name, “Ellison” once or twice; somewhere, deep down, it -had set vibrating a chord of memory that brought with it, incongruously -enough, an altogether different setting: a padded ring under twin, -blazing arcs; the thud and shuffle of sliding feet; a man, huge, brutish, -broad, fists like stone mauls, yet, for all his bulk, a very cat for -quickness.... - -He put down his paper now—to find those hard eyes boring into his. -Ellison, or whatever the man’s name was, had shifted in his seat; the -glance that he turned now upon the stranger in the black Stetson was -searching, probing. There was a truculence in it, a fierce, bright, -avid staring, like an animal’s, savage in its very directness, like a -challenge—which in effect it was. - -Annister returned the look, eye for eye, with a bitter, brooding -insolence in which there was apparent a certain mockery, his eyes in a -veiled gleaming, like the sun on water. For a long moment their glances -engaged, in a silent duel, like rapier points; then the giant with the -cauliflower ear vented a sound between a grunt and a snort, turning to -the window, his gaze outward across the flat levels of the adjacent -prairie in a kind of sightless stare. - -There had been no reason in it—no logic—that Annister could see, but for -the moment he had owned to a sudden sense of crisis; it had seemed to him -for a moment that in the giant’s eyes there had been almost a knowing, an -understanding look. But the man could have no business with him—of that -he was certain. - -The fellow was just a bully, probably, a big, hulking lump of beef who -resented, as it might chance, Annister’s undeniably cosmopolitan air; -the sardonic flicker in the gray-green eyes; the cool, contemptuous -appraisal. But, after all, it had been the giant who had begun it. - -And yet, somehow, Annister was thinking that he had seen him before, and, -oddly, illogically enough, he found himself liking the man—why, he could -not have told. - -Black Steve Annister, “with the heart of a cougar and the conscience of a -wolf,” as a disgruntled enemy had at one time phrased it, could have sat -into that game had he been so minded, with profit to himself, pecuniary -and otherwise, but he had preferred to play the hand that had been dealt -him. Later, at Dry Bone, that would be another matter. - -Now, his lean, strong, hawklike face darkened abruptly with the thought -behind his eyes, and then—for Annister had eyes in the back of his -head—he was suddenly aware that the conductor was advancing along the -aisle. - -The three men opposite had ceased their conversation as if at an order. -Two or three of the remaining passengers stared curiously, after the -manner of their kind (they were small tradesmen, merchants, going on -beyond the border to Tucson), as the conductor halted at Annister’s elbow. - -“Excuse me, Mister—Mister—” he began. - -“—Annister!” The answer was low, even, controlled, but beneath the silken -tone there ran a hint of iron. - -“Mister Annister,” repeated the conductor. “Will you—just a moment, -please?” - -Annister rose, following the official outward toward the vestibule. And -as he went he could feel those eyes, avid, curious, boring into his back. -He permitted himself the ghost of a cold grin as the conductor, turning -in the entry, laid a respectful hand upon his sleeve. - -“I’m—sorry, sir,” he said, low. “You getting off at Dry Bone, aren’t you?” - -The words were less a question than a statement of fact. Annister nodded. -The conductor, a tall, bronzed man who might have been an old-time line -rider, shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Then he said, his tone -even, matter-of-fact: - -“I—_wouldn’t_—if I was you.” - -Annister stared. Then, producing his cigar-case, lighting a long, black -invincible, the twin to which the conductor had selected, he remarked -casually: - -“They’re good cigars.... In the trenches we smoked ‘Woodbines’—a cross -between tar-heel and alfalfa; you have a lot of alfalfa out here, eh? And -the ‘third light,’ as we used to call it, most always got his—three men -lighting up from the same match, you know.” - -His tone abruptly hardened; the glance that he turned upon the conductor -now was like a lance of flame. - -“Well—I’m not superstitious—but—will you tell me _why_?” - -It is significant that the conductor was breaking a rigid Company rule by -joining Annister in a surreptitious cigar. Now he turned guiltily as a -voice sounded from the corridor at his back: - -“Ex-cuse me—but could I trouble you for a light?” - -The third man, as Annister could see, was tall and heavily built, with -broad shoulders and a curiously small head. He had a sharp, acquisitive -nose, and a mouth tight-lipped and thin. Annister, versed in reading men, -was abruptly conscious of an instinctive and overmastering repugnance. -For the man’s eyes were cold and cruel, sleepy-lidded, like a snake’s, -roving between Annister and the conductor in a furtive scrutiny. - -The match was still alight. Annister, his hand steady as a rock, extended -it to the newcomer, who, with an inarticulate grunt, lighted his -cigarette, turning, without further speech, backward along the corridor. - -Annister waited a moment until he was certain that the man was out of -earshot. Then: - -“The ‘third light,’ eh?” he murmured, his tone abruptly hardened. -“Well—and why shouldn’t I get off?” he asked, grimly. - -The conductor for a moment seemed at a loss. - -“It’s like this, Mr. Annister,” he said slowly. “I’m a new man on the S. -P., but I’ve been hearing a lot—no gossip, you understand—but a conductor -hears a good deal, by and large.... And this is a cow country, or it used -to be—pretty wild, in spots. Dry Bone, now—they run things pretty much to -suit themselves—” - -He paused, in a visible embarrassment. - -“There’s a party of four back there in the diner—I couldn’t help -overhearing what they were saying, and—well—I’m just repeating what they -said, and no offense—” - -“That’s all right,” interrupted Annister, evenly. “Go on.” - -“Why—they said,” continued the conductor, “that you were an Eastern -gambler—a—confidence-man—that you were not wanted here in Dry Bone; that -it wouldn’t be exactly healthy for you if you stopped off—that’s all. I -thought you’d be wanting to know. And if you’ll take my advice, even if -you haven’t asked it, I’d say: go on to Tombstone—you can figure it out -from there.” - -“Thanks,” answered Annister shortly. “I’m getting off—at Dry Bone. How -soon are we due?” - -“Fifteen minutes,” replied the conductor, glancing at his watch. “But -if I was you, sir, I’d stay aboard; it’s a bad crowd there, as I happen -to know, and they’ve got a branch of the S. S. S. there, only they work -it to suit themselves: tar-and-feathers is just a picnic with that gang; -they’re a stemwinding bunch of assassins, I’ll say! So far they’ve -operated under cover, mostly, and down here in the Southwest—well—it -ain’t a lot different, in some ways, than it was thirty years ago. You’ll -see—because they’re—” - -“—Southwest of the Law—is that it?” Annister laughed shortly. “Well—much -obliged, old-timer,” he said. “I won’t forget it. But I’m getting off.” - -The long train was slowing for the station stop. Annister, striding to -his seat, got down his heavy bag. For a moment he stood, considering, his -gaze, under lowered lids, upon the long coach and its passengers in a -swift, squinting appraisal. - -The three men were gone. - -Somehow, they had found out who he was. Well—that made little difference, -he reflected, grimly, except to force matters to a show-down, and the -sooner the better. - -For there was a man in Dry Bone; Annister had known him in the old time; -and it was with this man, unless he was greatly mistaken, that his -business had to do. - -He would put it to the touch, then; he would sit into the game, and would -come heeled, and they could rib up the deck on him, and welcome. - -He was turning to the door when, of a sudden, there came to him a second -warning: there was a swish of skirts, a sudden odor of violets. Annister -had a glimpse of a blonde head beneath a close-fitting toque, as the girl -passed him, disappearing in the doorway. - -And there, on the flooring at his feet, was a square of white. - -Annister, stooping, retrieved it, holding the card upward to the light: - - “_Stay on board. Dry Bone is not safe—for you. Be warned—in - time._” - -There was no signature. Annister made a little clucking sound with his -tongue, his face set like flint. He was alone in the car. - -The train had stopped now as, bag in hand, he shouldered through the -doorway. And then, abruptly, as if materialized out of the air, a face -grinned into his, lips drawn backward from the teeth in a soundless -snarl. It was the big man with the cauliflower ear. - -“Hombre,” he said, without preamble, in a hoarse, carrying whisper, “take -an old-timer’s advice: go back—_an’_ set down—you savvy? This place—it -ain’t exactly healthy for a young fellow like you, I’m tellin’ yu! For if -you don’t—” - -Annister’s cold stare was followed by his voice, low, incisive: - -“You’re blocking the doorway,” he said, with a sort of freezing quiet. - -The giant’s hard mouth twisted in a sneer; his great paw reaching upward -with a clawing motion, blunt fingers upon Annister’s shoulder. Then—what -followed happened with the speed of light. - -“You can’t get off here, Mister—” the giant was continuing, when the -words were blotted out. Annister’s right fist, behind it the full weight -of his two hundred pounds of iron-hard muscle, curved in a short arc; -there was a spanking thud. The big man, lifted from his feet, crashed -into the front door-frame, slumping face downward in an aimless huddle of -sprawling limbs. - -“The hell you say!” grinned Black Steve Annister, leaping lightly to the -platform, with never a backward glance. - -Such was the manner of his coming. - - -_CHAPTER TWO_ - -THE HAND IN THE DARK - -The one hotel in Dry Bone was the Mansion House. - -Annister, crossing the lobby, was aware of a veiled hostility in the -stares directed at him from the group of loungers in the doorway; they -gave ground grudgingly, as he came in, with a sort of covert truculence. - -Here, as he could see, there was a curious mingling of the Old West and -the New: men, whose attire would have created no remark, say, even in New -York; others, booted and spurred, cartridge-belted and pistolled—but all, -as he noticed, with, for headgear, the inevitable Stetson. - -Once in his room, and the door locked and bolted, he busied himself for -a moment with a sheaf of papers, several of them adorned with a huge, -official seal; they crackled as he put them in an inner pocket. Then, -dressed as he was, he lay down upon the bed, but not to sleep. - -It was late—hard upon midnight—when the sound for which he had waited -came with the soft _whirring_ of the window-weights. The sound was not -loud; it would not have awakened him had he been asleep; but Annister -could hear it plainly enough. - -He had removed his shoes upon retiring. Now, in his stocking-feet, he -approached the window, a black, glimmering oblong against the windy -night without. As he watched, the faint _whirring_ ceased; a pair of -hands appeared suddenly out of the darkness, fingers hooked into the -window-sill. - -Annister drew a faint, hissing breath. In the star-shine, for there was -no moon, the fingers showed in a luminous grayness against the sill, -clawlike, malformed, like the talons of a beast, which in effect they -were. - -Annister knew them upon the instant, for, in far-off Java, for instance, -he had seen those hands, or, rather, the same and yet not the same. And -in that instant he had acted. - -Both hands upon the window-sash, he brought it down with a crash upon -those fingers; there followed a yelp of pain, inhuman, doglike—a groaning -curse—the slam of a falling ladder—a heavy thud—silence. - -Annister smiled grimly in the darkness. Whoever it was, the intruder -would never be certain as to whether that window had crashed downward -of its own accord, or not. And leaning in the window, Annister raised -it cautiously again after a moment. He heard presently the slow drag of -retreating footsteps; after all, it had not been much of a drop. - -Closing and bolting the window, he undressed in the darkness, and with -the facility of an old campaigner was asleep and snoring beneath the -blankets between two ticks of the watch. - -But in the morning a surprise awaited him. - -Always an early riser, he was breakfasting alone in the empty dining-room -when the waitress brought him a note. Beyond noting that she was pretty, -and that she did not look like a waitress, Annister, somewhat engrossed -in the business in hand, for a moment stared at the envelope with -unseeing eyes. - -Then, ripping it open, he took in its contents in one swift, flashing -glance: - - _“My dear Mr. Annister_: - - _“I would be very glad to see you at my office at ten this - morning—if you are able to be there.”_ - -It was signed simply: “Hamilton Rook.” - -Annister grinned fleetingly in answer. - -“Well—it’s not another warning, at any rate,” he said, half aloud, -turning to the consideration of his breakfast bacon. Then, at a low voice -at his back, he turned: - -“Did you—say your coffee needed warming, sir?” - -It was the waitress. - -Annister had turned the note, face downward, on the table, with a quick -flirt of his thumb. How long she had been there behind him he could not -tell, for he had heard no sound. - -“Thanks—no,” he said shortly, his hard eyes boring into hers with an -almost insolent appraisal. - -Yes—she was pretty, and more than that, her violet eyes darkening now -under his abrupt, almost savage scrutiny. And her voice—it was like a -bell just trembling out of silence. Annister spoke: - -“Have you been here long—in Dry Bone, I mean?” he asked. - -The waitress smiled, and it was not the smile of a waitress, Annister -was convinced. Now, with a girl like that for a partner—was his unspoken -thought—he could—well.... - -“N-no, sir,” the girl made answer, with a sudden affectation of primness. -“I came in yesterday, sir—on the same train with you, sir. I—I’ve just -been—engaged.” - -Annister repressed an absurd prompting to ask her how many times she had -been engaged before, and to whom and at what. Her eyes were assuredly -hypnotic, with lashes long and delicately fine. - -“_Umm_,” he rumbled in answer. - -Was it possible, after all, that she had been the girl in the crimson -toque? And, with the card in his pocket, for a moment he was tempted to -show it to her. Instead: - -“Well—I hope you like it here,” he said. “You’ll know me—the next time?” - -And for a moment he could have sworn that in the face of the girl there -had come all at once a curious, almost a baffling look, at once enigmatic -and self-revealing. But the entrance of the vanguard of breakfasters -interrupted. - -He watched her for a little as with a swaying, lilting step she moved off -to minister to the late-comers, his eyes speculative. Then, turning once -more to the letter, he re-read it as a man reading a cipher: - -“_If you are able to be there._” Could there be a double meaning in that? -For if Rook had sent that midnight visitor, then there were no lengths -indeed to which he might go—for the hand, like a beast’s paw, upon the -window-sill, had been, as Annister had known upon the instant, the hand -of the Thug, the Dacoit, the Strangler. - -Warnings, thrice repeated; a hand in the dark; a waitress who was not -all she seemed; an invitation, suave, and, as Annister conceived it, -ironic—it was a situation not without its possibilities for action. - -And Black Steve Annister loved action. Perhaps, after all, he was to have -it now, whether he would or no. - -Rook he had known aforetime, but he was convinced that the latter would -not recognize him save as Black Steve Annister, wastrel of the wide -world, gentleman adventurer-in-waiting to the High Gods of Adventure and -Derring-do, knight-errant of the highways and byways of Criminopolis, -scarce a black sheep, indeed, but a wolf of the long trail and of the -night. - -Rook had known him as such in the days when, as jackal for certain vested -interests, the black-bearded lawyer had run foul of young Annister, just -then beginning a hectic career of spending which, but three years in the -past, had abruptly terminated with Annister’s complete disappearance from -joyous jazz-palace and discreetly gilded temple of high hazard. - -For he had dropped out of sight, lost, as a stone is lost, in the -sea-green waters of oblivion, save for an occasional ripple thereafter -which proclaimed him blacksander, beachcomber, _chevalier d’industrie_, -until one memorable evening a twelve-month gone ... but Rook would be -knowing nothing of that. - -Annister had come home from the South Seas to find his father gone, and a -note: “_Do not look for me, for you are not my son._” And an exhaustive -inquiry had failed even to suggest the slightest clue. - -The elder Annister could have written his check for seven figures, and it -appeared, following his disappearance, that he had done so; they had come -in from North and South and East and West, steadily, and, as it seemed, -with purpose. But as a clue to his whereabouts they had been unavailing. - -But, from the moment of his discovery of that note, Black Steve Annister, -visiting a certain office in a certain side-street not far distant from -the Capitol, had surprised its guardian with a terse: - -“That offer of yours, Childers—I’ve come to take it up.” - -The man called Childers had bent a keen look upon his visitor; another -might have described it as unpleasant, stern. - -“Well, you know just what that means, eh?” he had said. “You’ll be merely -a cog, a link—remember that!” - -“Yes,” Annister had answered, and there the interview had ended. - -And so Black Steve Annister, serving two masters, had come to Dry Bone, -and the end, as it might chance, of the long trail leading Westward into -the setting sun. - -He rose from the table now, going out into the pale Spring sunshine on -his way to the office of Hamilton Rook. He found the building presently; -it was the court-house; there was a figure of Blind Justice with her -scales just over the entrance. Annister reflected sardonically that, -here, in Carter County, distant from a civilization at present as remote -as the moon, she was probably also deaf—and dumb. And presently, at the -head of a dark flight, there was the office, with the legend: - - HAMILTON ROOK - - ATTORNEY AND - COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW - -There was a small sign at the corner of the door; in obedience to its -invitation to “Walk In,” Annister, his hand upon the knob in a noiseless -pressure, abruptly flung it wide. - -A split second before the opening of that door, and while his hand was on -the knob, Annister had seen, or thought that he had seen, a swift shadow -pass suddenly across the ground-glass panel; there was the grating sound -of a chair being moved backward. - -Then, standing in the doorway, Annister’s eyes narrowed; he stood rigid, -tense. - -For the man facing him across the stained and battered desk, lean head -like a vulture’s set upon wide shoulders; mouth like a straight gash with -its thin, bloodless lips; cold eyes fixed upon him in a silent, ophidian -brightness—was—the “third light,” as he had called him—the man whom he -had met for a moment back there in the smoker of the Transcontinental. - - -_CHAPTER THREE_ - -BEHIND THE ARRAS - -“Mister Annister,” greeted the man at the desk. “You didn’t know me, eh? -Well—it’s a long time—three years—and my beard—” he passed a bony hand -across his chin—“I sacrificed that long ago; it is scarcely the fashion. -Now—” he waved a hand, indicating a chair at his left—“sit down, won’t -you? We can—talk better so.” - -Annister seated himself, his eyes upon the cold eyes just across. That -the man who sat there had inspired those warnings he had little doubt; -that he had sent that midnight assassin against him, he was convinced. -And yet—he was at a loss to find the reason. - -Rook was not aware, could not be aware, of a certain fact known only to -himself, Annister, and a certain man just then twenty-five hundred miles -distant in that dim office hard by the Capitol; it was beyond the bounds -of possibility. No—it could scarcely be that, he told himself. - -And of a sudden a cold rage shook him so that he trembled; his hands, -flat upon the desk-top, balled suddenly into fists. This man—this suave, -secret knave with the eyes of ice, and the implacable, grim mouth—sat -there now, removed from him merely by the width of the narrow desk. And -if it were true, that which he suspected, then this man, this jackal, -this Prince of Plunder with the heart of a hyena and the conscience of a -wolf—why, he had earned his quittance a hundred times over. - -The flat black shape of the automatic hung in a sling under his left -arm-pit—Annister had forgotten that. He knew merely that he was face -to face with the man whom he had come twenty-five hundred long miles -to meet; he saw him now as through a crimson mist. And for the moment -the careful plan that he had made—that, too, was forgotten, lost in the -almost overmastering impulse to drive his fist into that face so close to -his, the cold eyes, the pallid, sneering mouth.... - -Something of this must have showed in his face, plainly visible to the -man who faced him across the desk. - -There was a semi-twilight in the room even by day. Now the lean head -thrust forward like a striking snake; there came a sudden, brief -explosion of movement, a darkening flash, as the hand, holding the heavy -automatic, swung upward level with his visitor, point-blank. - -At such a distance it would be impossible to miss. - -There was a curtain just behind him; Annister had noticed it upon -entering. Now at his back it rippled suddenly along its length as if at -the passage of a heavy body just behind. The lawyer smiled thinly. - -“Ah, my friend,” he said, “it is so easy to be indiscreet! And one must -meet force with force. This—it is theatrical, if you like—but—it is just -a little demonstration of my—preparedness. I thought—you see....” - -There came a sardonic flicker in the nearset eyes; the voice purred now -in the semi-darkness like a cat’s: - -“I must protect myself.... There are—reasons.... You see, I thought, for -a moment, that you—ah—meditated a resort to—violence. And violence is -something that I deplore, my friend; and here I am surrounded by violent -men, ‘sudden and quick in quarrel,’ as the poet has it; sometimes they -are difficult to control.” - -Annister had himself in hand. The veiled threat with which the lawyer -had ended bothered him not at all. Now, casually as it seemed, but -with the lightning riposte of a duellist, his hand reached out; there -came a sudden wrench, a twist, a snarling oath from Rook; and Annister, -pocketing the pistol, smiled grimly now in answer. - -“Now—‘we can talk better so’!” he mocked. “The balance of power, ha? Now, -let me tell you something: You left the big town—for your health; that -was three years ago, wasn’t it? I didn’t recognize you, but it was a -pretty close shave, at that!” - -He laughed, but there was a ring of menace in it. His hard eyes held the -pale ones of the lawyer with a chill malevolence. - -“Rook,” he said, low, “you’re as crooked as a ram’s-horn; you’re a bent -twig; I wouldn’t trust you this side of hell further than I could see -you, and not even then. Now—” his voice cracked suddenly in the thick -silence like the cracking of a whip—“you had the infernal gall to send -me—here—_after_ you’d have accounted for me—_by the left hand_, ha? - -“I left that window open, because, if you want to know, I was expecting -something of the sort. And now—” - -The hand holding the pistol became rigid as a rock. - -“—I want the reason _why_—in a holy minute, Mister Hamilton Rook—or else—” - -For a heart-beat the face of the lawyer seemed swollen to a poisonous -whiteness; the veins in his neck and temples stood out in ridges. -Then—the long, spatulate fingers spread wide with a curious, flicking -motion, thumbs downward; the curtain bellied outward suddenly as if in -answer. - -Abruptly Annister felt for a heart-beat a something that was like a cold -wind blowing upon the back of his neck, and it was a wind of death. -Something slid past his shoulder with the speed of light; talons of -steel, thumbs downward, pressing at the base of his brain. He heard a -hoarse, whistling croak—a sound that was nothing human. Then— - -There is but one answer to that strangler’s grip, and it is a secret -known only to a few. Annister had learned it, no matter where, and in the -learning he had paid.... - -Now, an infinitesimal split second before the beast paws had encircled -his throat, his forefinger and thumb had flashed upward, hooked, as steel -gaff is hooked, between those fingers and his throat. - -There followed a straining heave; a cry, inhuman, beastlike, like the -mewing of a cat. Annister, rising to his feet, leaned abruptly to the -left—straightened, with one quick, explosive heave of his powerful -shoulder-muscles—and the body of his antagonist catapulted over his head. - -Flung clear of the desk, he landed, heavily, on one shoulder-point, -twitched a moment, lay still. It was the “flying-mare,” and none but a -master could have summoned it. - -Annister turned the unconscious man over with his foot. - -“_Jivero!_” he muttered, between set teeth. - -He shivered slightly in the humid air of the warm room. For the man was -an Ecuadorian savage—a jungle-beast; once, in Quito, Annister had seen -two or three: flat-faced, rather handsome savages; how or where Rook had -acquired the fellow only the lawyer could have said. - -According to his savage code, he had been faithful—as a tiger is faithful -to his trainer, his keeper. Annister, brave as he was, would have -preferred a rattler, a fer-de-lance, for company. He turned now with an -abrupt movement to Rook, who, slumped in his chair, sat staring at the -huddled figure of the Indian where he had fallen. - -“Now,” said Annister, “I’ve a notion, Mister Hamilton Rook, to shoot -first, and ask questions afterward.... However, I confess I’m still a -trifle curious as to your motive—more so, since this second pleasant -little interlude with your man Friday here. Now—may I ask you—_why_?” - -The lawyer’s lips were moving, fumbling together, without sound. Fingers -trembling, like a man in a fit, at length he lifted dull eyes to his -interrogator: - -“This,” he enunciated thickly, gesturing toward the huddled figure on -the carpet. “It was to save my—life—that is the truth, Annister—you -must—believe. The reason—for the others.... I did not know it was you -there in the smoker; I thought—that is—” he appeared to breathe of a -sudden like a man who had been running—“we had a report—that you were -quite another man—one who was—ah—would be antagonistic, in fact, to -certain operations—and so—” - -He spread his hands wide with a little, flicking gesture. - -“—That is why—but now, of course, you will understand—?” - -“Yes,” answered Annister, bluntly. “I understand. You thought I was—an -operative, ha? Well—I’m not—that kind of an operative. But—” his manner -became all at once sharp, incisive; the gaze that he bent upon Rook was -the shrewd look of a man who sees his opportunity ready to his hand. -Cunning was in that look, and an infinite guile; the lawyer did not miss -it. - -Here was something that he could deal with. He had known of Annister’s -reputation as of old; it had been none of the best, certainly, and with -that knowledge now there came a measure of reassurance. And if he was any -judge of men, here was one whom he could use: the acquisitive gleaming in -the eyes; the hard, incisive mouth, the predatory, forward-thrusting tilt -of the head—if he, Rook, was any judge of men, here was a man whom he -could use. - -Old Travis Annister had disinherited him: the son who had been a waster -in the far places of the earth—that was an added reason. And at the -thought there came a pale gleaming in the lawyer’s close-set eyes, like -the sun on water. Travis Annister ... and Travis Annister had disappeared -... well, of course, he had heard of it. His voice reached the younger -man in a purring whisper: - -“As I have hinted, Mr. Annister, I am interested in—certain operations; -shall we call them—speculative? For some time now I have been in need of -a sort of silent partner, or, rather, the Doctor—” - -He caught himself with a _click_ of his strong, white, even teeth. -Annister’s face continued impassive, save for the keen eyes, veiled now -under lowered lids. Rook continued: - -“Annister,” he said suddenly, as if he had abruptly come to a decision, -“I’ll lay my cards on the table with you: I need a man, and he can not -afford to be too—scrupulous, do you understand? The—the doctor tells me -I have been overdoing it.” He gave a faint, wintry smile. “We are—out of -the beaten track here—southwest of the law, as you might call it....” - -He lowered his voice to a faint, hissing sibilance: - -“I will expect you to ask no questions. You have been a cow-man; there -are certain interests to the north and the north-east of us; I am naming -no names, understand? There is a good deal of range left, as you know, -and—now, listen to me....” - -His voice went on. For perhaps five minutes Annister listened in a heavy -silence. And all that time, although the lawyer had not once called a -spade a spade, the thing that he had unfolded was clear enough: - -It was the old story; with something of a novel twist. First, there were -the outfits scattered north and north-east, as Rook had said. The running -off of a few cows, for instance, re-branding, and the rest of it—it was -an old story to Annister—but there was something more. Annister, as he -listened, realized that the thing was big, worthy, indeed, of the keen, -devising brain that had evolved it. - -A good many of the ranches had, for some time past, been owned and -operated by the packers themselves; three of these: the Bar T, the Cross -Circle L, the Flying U, were northward from Dry Bone scarce a hundred -miles. But there were still other outfits. And, as Annister listened, he -was hearing again a name, or, rather, a symbol, the name and the symbol -of masked and hooded violence, and it was “S. S. S.” - -Rook, it appeared, was the moving spirit of it, in Dry Bone, at any rate, -but as the tale unfolded Annister, putting two and two together, supplied -for that cryptic symbol a name, nation-wide and respected: the name of a -great Company, an Octopus indeed, which, with Hamilton Rook as its agent, -planned nothing less than the ruthless despoiling of those independent -cattle men who, out of a desert of sand and sage, had won a living -for their stock and for themselves, the rear guard of the order, now, -as it seemed, indeed, caught in the far-flung tentacles of a monster, -unscrupulous and without soul. - -Annister’s part in it was to be simple. He was to do nothing as yet until -the lawyer should give the word. But a man was wanted: a gun-fighter; a -man bred to violence who would not consider too closely the method or the -means. For, as Rook had said, his eyes upon Annister in a sudden, biting -scrutiny: - -“If, as a first step, say, the owners of these outfits -should—ah—disappear....” - -There was to be no outright violence, it appeared; murder—that was an -ugly word; but it was of course possible that there might be—resistance. -But—there would be a fortune in it. - -Annister’s part would be comparatively simple. He would merely carry out -his orders. Rook, eying him now in a close-lipped silence, watched as a -spider watches from his ambush. Annister would be needing money; if the -lawyer knew his man, and he thought that he did, here was something that -would be a lever, and a powerful one. - -Annister lifted his head, then he brought his hand, palm downward, to the -desk-top. It was a movement, slow, even, controlled. - -“I’m with you,” he said. - -“Good!” exclaimed the lawyer. “Now—I want you to go over to the club; -there are a few men there I’d like you to meet. _Ha!_” - -At his exclamation Annister, turning, followed his rigid, pointing -finger. - -The huddled figure on the carpet had disappeared. There had been no -sound, no sign. The Indian had vanished. - - -_CHAPTER FOUR_ - -THE FACE IN THE MOONLIGHT - -Annister had thrown in with Rook, but he trusted him no further than he -would have trusted a cougar, a mountain cat. - -At the club, as the afternoon wore on to evening, he had met four or five -men: Beaton, the county judge, a red-faced tippler with, on the surface, -a heartiness that was repellant; Lunn, the hotel proprietor, a vast, -asthmatic man with a small, porcine eye; Daventry, the Land Commissioner, -whose British accent, Annister noticed, would on occasion flatten to a -high, nasal whining that was reminiscent of Sag Harbor or Buzzards Bay. - -The rest, hard-faced, typical of their environment, Annister put down -for the usual lesser fry; hangers-on, jackals, as it might chance, -“house-men,” in the parlance of the “poker-room”—Annister knew the type -well enough. - -They seemed hospitable, but once or twice Annister had thought to detect -in their glances a grimly curious look: of appraisal, and of something -more. - -There had been a game going, but he had not sat in, nor had the lawyer -invited him. The visit had been meant, plainly enough, as a sort of -introduction. - -“We’re all here,” Rook had said. - -But it was apparent, too, that there were one or two others who were -absent; Annister heard several references to “Bull”; but for the most -part there was a silence, beneath which Annister could feel the tension; -it was like a fine wire, vibrating, deep-down; almost, he might have -said, a certain grimly quiet anticipation of that which was to come. - -Presently the telephone tinkled, loud in the sudden stillness; Annister -could hear the voice at the other end: harsh, strident, with a bestial -growl that penetrated outward into the close room. - -“He can’t come,” came from the man at the telephone. “Bull—yeah—an’ I -reckon he seems some disappointed.” - -Annister noticed that the tension had all at once relaxed, and with -it, as he could see, there was plainly visible in the faces about -him a certain disappointment. It was as if they had been waiting for -something—something, well, that had not materialized. There was a laugh -or two; a word stifled in utterance; one or two of the men, glancing at -Annister and away, gave an almost imperceptible head-shake. Even Rook, as -Annister could tell, appeared relieved as the newcomer rose, turning to -the company with a conventional good-night. - -For just a split second it seemed to Annister that something _was_ about -to happen; for a moment he saw, or fancied that he saw, a quick, silent -signal flash, then, from eye to eye; Lunn, the hotel man, had half risen -in his chair; out of the tail of his eye, as he was turning toward the -door, Annister was aware of a quick ripple, a movement, the shadow of -a sound, like the movement of a conjuror manipulating his cards, white -hands flashing in a bewildering passade. - -But nothing happened. - -Leaving, he had walked slowly toward the hotel, turning over in his mind -the story that had been told him by the lawyer. And there was one more -question he wanted to ask him: a question that had to do with a square of -paper that he had come upon among his father’s papers in New York, for -it had been this chance discovery that had sent him, post-haste, to Dry -Bone, and the lawyer’s office. - -Thinking these things, he was turning the corner to the hotel when, out -of nowhere as it seemed, a man had passed him, walking with a peculiar, -dragging shuffle. Seen under the moon for a moment, this man’s face -had impressed itself upon Annister: it was dark and foreign, with high -cheek-bones, and—what seemed curiously out of place in Dry Bone—a black -moustache and professional Van Dyke. - -Annister, watching the man, saw him turn into the doorway he had just -quitted; it was the entrance to the “club”—two rooms above a saddler’s -shop at the corner of the street. - -Halting a moment to look after the man, Annister was wondering idly who -he might be—certainly not the man called “Bull,” if there was anything -in a name. And then, abruptly, he was remembering what the lawyer had -let fall about the “doctor”; perhaps that was who he was; he had had a -distinctly professional air. - -The man’s eyes had lingered upon Annister for a moment, and for a moment -the latter had been conscious of a curious shock. For it had been as -if the man had looked _through_ rather than at him; those eyes had -glowed suddenly in the darkness, gray-green like a cat’s, in an abrupt, -ferocious, basilisk stare. - -Annister, in his day, had seen some queer corners and some tight places; -in Rangoon, for example, he had penetrated to a certain dark house in a -dim backwater stinking and dark with the darkness of midnight even at -high noon. - -And it was there, in that dark house, with shuttered windows like blind -eyes to the night, that he had seen that which it is not good for any -white man to have seen: the rite of the Suttee; the blood-stone of Siva, -the Destroyer, reeking with the sacrifice—ay—and more. - -And something now, at that time half-perceived and dimly understood, -came again with the sight of the dark face with its high cheek-bones, -and black, forking beard; for he had seen a creature with a face and yet -without a face, mewling and mowing like a cat, now come from horrors, and -the practitioner had been— - -The man who but just now passed him at the corner of the street, the man -with the dark, foreign visage, and the eyes of death. - - -_CHAPTER FIVE_ - -PARTNERS OF THE NIGHT - -Annister, pausing a moment at the corner of the street, was conscious of -a feeling of coldness, like a bleak wind of the spirit, as if death, in -passing, had touched him, and gone on. - -For the face of the man whom he had seen had been like the face of a -damned soul, unhuman, Satanic in its sheer, visible malevolence. So might -Satan himself have looked, after the Fall. - -Somehow, although the man had looked straight ahead, seeming to see -merely with the glazed, indwelling stare of a sleepwalker, Annister had -felt those eyes upon him; he was certain that he had been seen—and known. -But now he had other things to think about. - -He had intended going to the hotel. Now, on an impulse he bent his steps -away from it, turning to the building in which were the offices of Rook. - -But he did not enter by the main doorway. There was an alley further -along; into this he melted with the stealth and caution of an Indian, -feeling his way forward in the thick darkness to where, as he had marked -it earlier in the day, there was a rusty fire-escape; its rungs ran -upward in the darkness; they creaked now under his hand as he went slowly -up. - -Rook’s office was on the second floor. Annister, reaching the window, -found it locked, but in a matter of seconds had it open, with the soft -_snick_ of a steel blade between sash and bolt; the thing was done with a -professional deftness, as if, say, the man who had opened that window had -done that same thing many times before. - -Now, crouched in the darkness by that dim square of window, the intruder -stood silent, listening, holding his breath. A sound had come to him, -faint and thin, as if muffled by many thicknesses of walls; it penetrated -outward from the private office, with the snick and slither of rasping -steel on steel. - -And at the instant that Annister, with a grim smile in the darkness, -recognized it for what it was, he knew, too, that someone had been -beforehand with him; someone interested, also, in Hamilton Rook; for the -sound that he heard now, loud in the singing silence, was the sound of a -steel drill upon a safe. - -Annister had seen that safe; it was scarcely more than a strong-box, a -sheet steel, but thin; a “can-opener” could have ripped it from end to -end, easily, in no time at all. Rook must feel secure indeed, he thought, -to put his trust in so flimsy a repository unless, perhaps, he had other -means. The Indian, for instance; the savage who, but a few hours ago, had -missed with his long talons for Annister’s throat by inches. - -But somehow Annister did not think that the Jivero would be on guard. -There was no burglar-alarm protection; he had made certain of that; -but the man who was now busy with that safe must have come up by the -stairway; doubtless he was on familiar ground. Perhaps he might be some -disgruntled confederate of the lawyer’s; well, he’d have a look-see, at -any rate. - -Advancing silently, on the balls of his feet, Annister traversed the -length of the outer office, peering around the doorway to where, under -the dim glow of a single drop-light, a figure, back toward Annister, -knelt before the safe. - -The drop-light, carefully shaded, would not be visible from without; -under its cone-shaped radiance Annister could see merely that the man -was wearing a cap, pulled low over his forehead; but something in the -attitude of that kneeling figure: the turn of the head, the deft, darting -movement of the hand, was strangely familiar. - -Annister grinned in the darkness at the same moment that he was aware -of a curious contraction of the heart. This lone-hand cracksman worked -evidently without confederates, unless, possibly, he might have a lookout -posted on the sidewalk below. He spoke, barely above a whisper: - -“Hello!” he said. “Pretty careless, aren’t you? Now, do you think -it’s—safe?” - -The figure whirled; the hand, holding an automatic, came upward with the -speed of light; then dropped limply at her side as the girl surveyed him -with a stony look. - -It was the waitress of the Mansion House. - -“Well,” she said, “you’ve caught me, but it looks to me as if I beat -you to it, Black Steve Annister.... Oh, I’ve heard of you, Mister Black -Steve.... Well, now you’ve caught me, what are you going to do about it?” - -The darkly beautiful face was scornful; the violet eyes, under the light, -stormy with a something that Annister could not all define. - -Annister bit his lip. To find her like this! And, all at once, -realization came to him with a sudden tightening of the heart. - -This girl, waitress or not, crook or not—he had to confess that, in all -his wanderings up and down the earth, he had never met her like. A girl -in a thousand, he had decided, back there in the dining-room of the -Mansion House. What a partner she would make! Now, with a girl like that -for a partner...! - -On a sudden impulse he leaned forward, his eyes upon the safe door; it -swung outward now; somehow she had opened it. - -“Pretty smooth,” he commented. “The combination, after all, ha? You -worked it. Now, before _we_ have a look, I want to tell you something. -I—I’m looking for a partner, Miss—ah—Miss—” - -“—Allerton,” she told him, in her eyes a sudden, leaping spark, the -brief, baffling, enigmatic look that he had seen back there in the hotel -dining-room. But it was gone again even as she spoke: - -“All right—partner!” she said, low. “When do we start?” - -“Right now!” answered Annister, his gaze upon the girl frankly -admiring. He had expected the usual feminine evasions, a play for time, -hesitation—anything but this ready acquiescence in his abrupt proposal. - -He was not entirely sure of her; his admiration for her beauty, her -poise, had nothing to do with the cold judgment whispering now that the -whole affair might, after all, be a blind, a trap, devious and crooked as -the devious and crooked turnings of Hamilton Rook. - -But with Annister to decide was to act. - -Bending, he swung wide the safe door, groping forward with exploring -hand. His back was toward the girl; consequently he did not see the -sudden, revealing gleam in the violet eyes, the quick hardening of the -mouth. Swinging forward his pocket flash, the light danced, glimmering, -upon a packet of papers, a sheaf of documents. Annister, running over -them swiftly, gave a quick exclamation, his hand, in a lightning -movement, palming something which he secreted in an inner pocket. - -He turned sidewise to the girl. - -“Lord!” he exclaimed disgustedly. “Nothing but papers! Partner, we’re out -of luck!” - -Evidently the girl had been oblivious. Now, however, her quick, flashing -fingers sorted the contents of that safe as with a practiced hand, to -leave them, as had Annister, inviolate, save for that oblong of paper -reposing now in the pocket of his coat. - -In the shadow of the entrance it was black dark as they parted. The girl -did not live in the hotel, she told him; that had been a part of her -plan. They would meet again, of course. But once in his room, and with -the shades drawn and the door locked and bolted, Annister, taking the -paper from his pocket, smoothed it out under the light. - -He looked; then looked again, breath indrawn sharply through clenched -teeth. - -For that paper was a canceled check; it had been drawn to “Cash”; and the -signature, in a hand that he knew upon the instant, was the signature of -his father, Travis Annister. - - -_CHAPTER SIX_ - -THE LIVING GHOST - -Annister had heard nothing from Rook other than that he had been again -invited to a further session of the “Club” for that evening. - -Alone in his room on the morning following his adventure in Rook’s -office, his eye had been caught and held by a news item printed on an -inside page of the _Durango County Gazette_: he had nearly passed it -over; but now the lines leaped out at him as if they had been blazoned -across the paper in a double-column spread: - - Travis Annister Still Strangely Missing—Retired Capitalist Gone - Since January—Foul Play Feared - -And, separated from it by the width of a single column, he read: - - Retired Banker Disappears—Newbold Humiston a Suicide?—Friends - Fear for Safety - -But it was at a third item, tucked away in an obscure corner that -Annister stifled a quick word in his throat. Newbold Humiston had been a -friend of his father’s; it was an odd coincidence, to say the least of -it. And the story went on to say that three other men, all nationally -known, had, so to speak, between suns, disappeared as completely as if -the earth had opened and swallowed them. - -And that third news item, irrelevant as it might have been, told of an -incident, odd and unusual enough; it had happened in Palos Verde, distant -from Dry Bone a long twenty miles of hazardous mountain trail: - -A man had come in, in rags and tatters; at first they had thought him -a desert rat, a prospector, light-headed from starvation, for his -incoherent babble had proclaimed him no less a personage than Rodman -Axworthy, prominent banker of Mojave. The sheriff of Palos Verde, on the -off chance, had wired Mojave, and the word had come back that Axworthy -had been missing; they were sending a man. - -With the arrival of this man, however, the mystery deepened, for it -appeared that the derelict was indeed Axworthy, and yet not Axworthy at -all, for whereas the true Axworthy had had a high, aquiline nose and a -wide, generous mouth, the derelict was snub-nosed, swarthy, where the -banker had been fair; he was, simply, another man. - -But there had been this about it: on the banker’s left forearm, -underneath, there had been a curious birth-mark; the derelict had -spoken of it, but upon examination the arm showed smooth and bare. The -investigator from Mojave had been obviously skeptical until, abruptly, -the ragged claimant had taken from his pocket a curious, removable -bridge; a dentist in Mojave who had made it, he said, could identify it. -It fitted perfectly. - -This looked like proof, but the thing was obviously impossible. And then, -as “Axworthy” was being taken back to Mojave, he went suddenly stark, -staring crazy, repeating over and over, with reference to the bridge: - -“It’s the one thing they didn’t get—the one thing....” - -And there the matter rested, save that, upon arrival in Mojave, the -bridge was found to be missing. The emissary from Mojave seemed to -remember a dark-faced stranger who had been seated opposite them in the -train, but that was all; the man had jostled against his charge upon -alighting; the last proof, if indeed it might be called a proof, was gone. - -Annister frowned thoughtfully, his mind upon that canceled check in -his pocket. And he was remembering one other thing, and that was the -square of paper which he had found among his father’s effects, for on -it had been a name, or, rather, two: the name of Hamilton Rook, and -of another, unknown to Annister. And as to that Axworthy case, it was -common knowledge that lunatics, for instance, entertained frequently the -delusion that they were people of importance. There was nothing new in -that. - -Somehow, it seemed to him that he held in his hands the pieces of a -jig-saw puzzle that, even if put together, made but a patchwork of -motives and design, which yet, if he could but find the key, would be as -clear as crystal. - -That paper found in his father’s office; the interview with Childers, at -Washington; the long trip westward; the warning message on the train; -the big man with the ice-blue eye and the square jaw of a fighter; the -attack in the hotel; the meeting with Rook, and the meeting with the -girl; the finding of that canceled check—and, last, the matter of those -queerly related news items just under his hand—these made a pattern to be -unraveled only by the warp and woof of Fate. - -And the chance meeting with the bearded stranger at the corner of the -street: consider how he would, Annister’s mind kept turning backward to -that meeting and those eyes that were like the eyes of a damned soul, -malignant, cold, in their abysmal, cold cruelty of discarnate Evil. - -Discarnate! That was it; that would express it; for the man, as he -recalled him, seemed somehow less than human; there had been about him -an aura, an emanation, that was like a tide rising from the depths, from -darkness unto darkness.... - -Annister was scarcely superstitious, but he was again conscious of that -icy chill; he shivered, as a man is said to shiver when, according to an -ancient superstition, someone is said to be walking over his grave. - -He rose, walking to the window, to peer outward into the sunwashed -street. The coil was tightening; he felt it; and he was but one man -against many. And knowing what he knew, or suspecting what he suspected, -it seemed to him all at once that the sunlight had flattened to a -heatless flaming of pale radiance; there seemed a menace in it, even as -there seemed a menace in the very air, a waiting, a tension, like a fine -wire drawn and singing at a pitch too low for sound. - -Abruptly he heard a sound; it was like the scratching of a rat in the -wainscot, faint and thin. His door was locked. - -Now, looking at it, the knob turned, slowly, stealthily. He could see it -turning. - -Then, faint but unmistakable, came a knock. - - -_CHAPTER SEVEN_ - -THROUGH THE DOOR - -The knocking was not loud; it was merely a discreet tap; but there was a -quality of hurry in it. - -Annister, moving without sound on the thick pile of the rug, almost with -the same motion turned the key and flung wide the door. - -At first he could see nothing. The corridor, thick-piled with shadows -even at high noon, showed merely as a darkling glimmer out of which there -sprang suddenly a face, like a white, glimmering oval; a voice came, with -a quick, hissing sibilance: - -“_Ssh!_ Quiet! I must not be seen! Or else he.... Close the door!” - -The girl stepped inward swiftly, her white face turned to the man before -her in a sort of frozen calm. Annister had a vague impression of having -seen her somewhere before: that golden head beneath its close-fitting -toque; the faint, remembered odor of fresh violets; the face, with a -piquant loveliness just now, however, white and drawn; it was like a -strain of music, heard and then forgotten. - -Closing the heavy door and locking it, he turned swiftly to the girl. - -“Well—?” he said, his gaze upon her in a cold, searching scrutiny. “Isn’t -this a trifle—_sudden_?” - -But the girl lifted a stony face. - -“I have little time,” she said, with a curious, spent breathlessness, -as if she had been running. “I am Cleo Ridgley, secretary to Hamilton -Rook—that is, I _was_; I am his secretary no longer, but he does not know -about it—yet.” - -She paused, again with that hard-held breathing, moistening her stiff -lips. - -“I warned you that day on the train; do you remember? I warned you -because I knew Hamilton Rook.... I know him even better now. He meant to -kill you, Mr. Annister, and now he schemes—” - -“—To use me—is that it?” interrupted Annister dryly; then, at her slow -head-shake, he stiffened. - -“He would have finished you even after your—agreement—but that is not -his way. But he will not make use of you in the way that you think. -That careful plan of which he told you—that was just a blind; there are -no ranches near enough. The S. S. S.—that, too, was just a part of the -story. You see, he wants to keep you here, that is all, until such time -as he thinks it necessary to—remove you. But his real motive, his actual -plan I know nothing about. I may suspect, but I do not _think_ about it.” - -She paused again, her expression rigid, as there sounded a faint, -half-audible footfall from the corridor without. It passed. - -“He would—kill me—if he knew,” she continued tonelessly. “That warning on -the train—I did that at his order. If he could have frightened you off, -he would have been satisfied with that, but now, it will be—different, -I tell you this on my own account. And now—”she laid a slim hand on his -arm—“don’t go to that rendezvous tonight, Mr. Annister. Ellison will be -there; you remember him? He was the man who tried to keep you on that -train.” - -She smiled faintly with her lips, but her eyes were sombre. - -“Ellison is Rook’s jackal, just as Rook is—” - -The sentence was never completed. There came a coughing grunt from just -outside the door, a streak of flame from the half-open transom just -above; the girl stiffened, her face went blank; she slid downward to the -rug, even as Annister, snapping back the lock, had flung wide the door. - -Gun out, he burst into the corridor, as, from the shadows at a far -corner, he fancied that he heard the faint echo of a taunting laugh. - -But there was no one there. - -Rushing to the stair-head, he found nothing, nobody. The man who had -fired that shot had used a silencer; he had disappeared, either into one -of the bed-chambers to right and left, or down the stair. But it was no -time for speculation. The girl would be needing attention, if, indeed, -she was not already past all aid. - -Annister had wasted no time. But, for a heart-beat, as he raced backward -along the hall, his eye was caught and held by the quick glint of metal -from the carpet at his feet. Stooping as he ran, he swept up the object, -possibly an empty shell; then, on the threshold of his room, recoiled -with a gasping oath. - -For the girl had vanished! - -Stunned, Annister stood silent, mechanically unclosing his stiff fingers -upon the object which they held. He stared at it now, rigid with -remembrance, and a growing fear. - -Oddly twisted and distorted, its dull gold surface glinting dully under -the light, the thing that he had found lay on his open palm. - -_It was a dentist’s bridge._ - - -_CHAPTER EIGHT_ - -ODDS—AND THE MAN - -Annister had been absent from that room not longer than ten racing -seconds. It was unthinkable that the girl had vanished of her own -volition, even had it been physically possible. - -Glancing around the room, he saw that the windows were closed and bolted; -the flooring was solid, substantial; there could be no ingress save by -the door through which he had just come. - -There was another door; it led to the next room; but Annister, with a -habit of inbred caution, had tried it, and found it locked. Now, in two -swift strides, he had covered the space between, had tried that door, -setting his weight against it as he turned the knob. - -Under his weight it gave outward with a sudden slatting clatter. They, -whoever they might be, had unlocked it; it had been through this -adjoining room that they had taken the girl. - -Annister, glancing swiftly around this room, saw that it was obviously -unoccupied; the bed had been made up; there was no sort of clue that he -could see. The invisible assassin had had a key; that was it, of course. - -But as to the rest of it, Annister could only speculate. It was an -impasse, and a mystery. - -Going downward to the dining-room, as it was now past noon, he glanced -toward the desk, but if he had had any thought of reporting the attack -upon the girl, or her disappearance, he thought better of it; he would -keep his own counsel; a decision helped by a sight of Lunn, the hotel -proprietor, who, lounging at the desk, raised his sleepy-lidded, vulture -gaze at Annister as the latter was turning toward the dining-room. - -Annister, in that brief glance, thought to detect in those eyes, -milky-pale, a veiled, sardonic flicker. If, behind this latest happening, -there was the fine, Italian hand of Hamilton Rook, Lunn was in cahoots -with the lawyer, of that there could be little doubt. For, as Annister -was convinced, there had been a menace in those eyes half turned to his, -an insolence, a bright, burning truculence, that, as he turned into the -long dining-hall, brought the swift blood to his cheek in a dark tide. - -But at his table another surprise awaited him. Mary Allerton was gone. -The heavy-handed Swede who served him told him that she had left, -suddenly, that morning; a message had come for her, it appeared, but the -substitute could tell him nothing further. Annister let it go at that. - -Rising from the table, he went outward to the long bar, a cool, pleasant -oasis, indeed, in the fierce heat of the drowsy afternoon. He greeted the -bartender, a tall man with the wide shoulders of a cowman, with a smile. - -The man had been friendly; in fact, he had been the sole friend that -Annister appeared to have made since his arrival in Dry Bone. Now the -bartender leaned forward, speaking in a whisper behind his hand: - -“Watch your step, Mr. Annister,” he said. - -Annister gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then, his drink before him -upon the stained and battered mahogany, he glanced sidewise along the -rail, to where, at the far end, two men stood together, eying him under -lowered brows. - -To Annister it seemed that there had fallen a sudden quiet. Just prior to -his entrance he had heard talk and laughter, the _clink_ of glasses, a -thick, turgid oath. Now there appeared to rise and grow a tension, as of -something electric in the air; Annister felt it in the white face of the -knight of the apron, the sudden silence, the rigid figures of the two men -at the end of the long bar. - -Behind him, and a little to his left, three men were seated at a table: -Bristow, sheriff of Dry Bone, a big man with a bleak, pale eye, and a -mouth like a straight gash above a heavy chin barbered to the blood. With -him were two others whom he did not know. - -Lunn was nowhere in sight. - -The taller of the two men standing at the bar turned, and Annister -recognized him as Tucson Charlie Westervelt, a gunman with a dangerous -record. Westervelt was wearing a high-crowned, white Stetson; Annister -marked it at the distance, beneath it the fierce, hawklike face, turned -now in his direction, the thin lips set stiffly in a sullen pout. - -The old West had passed with the passing of the _remuda_, the trail herd, -the mining camps; the wide, free range of the long-horned cattle was no -more; but Dry Bone had not changed save that the loading-pens had gone; -a cow would be a curiosity. But the lawless spirit of the ancient West -remained. “Southwest of the Law,” indeed, Dry Bone was a law unto itself, -and now about him Annister felt the menace; it appeared that he had -walked into a trap. - -The judge, the sheriff—what mockery of law there was—Annister knew that -it would be against him, either way, attacking or attacked. He was -certain of it as Westervelt, moving slowly along the bar, halted when -perhaps three paces distant, elbow raised, right hand extended, clawlike, -in a stiff, thrusting gesture above his guns. - -It was the gesture of the killer, the preliminary for the lightning -down-thrust of the stiff fingers; Annister knew that well enough. Now the -gunman’s gaze, sleepy-lidded like a falcon’s, bored into his; his voice -came with a snarling violence: - -“_Mister_ Black Steve Annister,” he said, without preamble. “I understand -you’re some wizard with a canister, ha? A bad hombre! Musta been a -little bird done told me, an’ that bird was sure loco, I’ll tell a man! -But _me_—” his tone hardened to a steely rasp—“I’m not thinkin’ you’re -such-a-much!” - -It was a trap; Annister knew that now, just as behind the gunman he could -almost see the dark face of Rook, with its sneering grin; the lawyer had -inspired it. - -His automatic hung in a sling under his left arm-pit, but even if he -could beat Westervelt to the draw, he knew well enough what the result -would be: a shot in the back, say, from the men sitting just behind, -or—arrest, and the mockery of a trial to follow it. Either way, he was -done. - -His own eyes held the gunman’s now, glancing neither to the right nor to -the left. He was conscious of a movement from the three men at the table; -Westervelt’s companion, a short, bowlegged man, with the pale eyes of an -Albino, had stepped backward from the bar; Annister felt rather than saw -his hand move even as his own hand came up and outward with lightning -speed; flame streaked from his pistol with the motion. - -Once in a generation, perhaps, a man arises from the ruck who, by an -uncanny dexterity of hand and eye, confounds and dazzles the common run -of men. As a conjurer throws his glass balls in air, swifter than eye can -follow, so Annister, crouching sidewise from the bar, threw his bullets -at Westervelt. - -The gunman, bending forward at the hips, crashed to the sawdust in a -slumping fall, as the Albino, firing from the hip, whirled sidewise as -Annister’s second bullet drilled him through the middle. For the tenth -of a second, like the sudden stoppage of a cinematograph, the tableau -endured; then Annister, whirling, had covered Bristow where he sat; the -two men with him, white-faced, hands pressed flat upon the table-top, -stared, silent, as Annister spoke: - -“You saw, Bristow,” he said, low and even, his eyes upon the cold eyes of -the sheriff in a bright, steady, inquiring stare. “Now—what about it?” - -For a moment a little silence held; then Bristow, moistening his stiff -lips, nodded, his gaze upon Annister in a sudden, dazed, uncomprehending -look. - -“All right, Mr. Annister,” he said heavily. “They came lookin’ f’r it, I -reckon.... Well, you were _that_ quick!” - -Annister smiled grimly, pocketing his pistol. Westervelt lay where he -had fallen, a dead man even as he had gone for his gun, lips still -twisted in a sullen pout. The bowlegged man, stiff fingers clutching his -heavy pistol, lay, face downward, in the sawdust. The bartender, with an -admiring glance at Annister, leaned forward as Bristow and the two men -with him went slowly out. - -“They may try to get me for it, Mr. Annister,” he said, “but I’m no man’s -man; well, not Rook’s, and you can lay to that! Bristow and his friends -kept out of it, you noticed? Bristow’ll do nothing, _now_; not yet a -while, at any rate, but—mebbe they sort of savvied me a-watchin’ t’ see -they didn’t run no whizzer on you!” - -He lifted the heavy Colt, where it had lain hidden by the bar-rail, -thrusting it in its scabbard with a grin. - -“Well, sir, I _aimed_ t’ see that they was sittin’ close, _an’_ quiet, -Mr. Annister,” he said. - -“Thanks, old timer,” said Annister. “I’ll not forget.” - -But as he went outward into the waning afternoon he was thinking of that -rendezvous of the night. For Rook would be there, and it had been Rook, -he was certain, who had engineered that ambush in the Mansion House bar. - - -_CHAPTER NINE_ - -THE BATTLE IN THE “CLUB” - -The time was nearly ripe. The clue of those newspaper items; the canceled -check; the somewhat repellant evidence of the battered piece of goldwork -picked up in the corridor of the Mansion House—Annister had been able to -put two and two together, to find a sum as strange, as odd, say, as five, -or seven, or even one. - -But that name that had trembled on the lips of Rook’s secretary remained -a secret; with it, Annister was convinced, he would be able to pull those -threads together with a single jerk, to find them—one. - -He had had news from Mojave: the dentist had identified the insane man as -his patient by means of his chart, but, with that face, the man could not -be Banker Axworthy—it simply could not be. And yet he was! - -It was something of a riddle, and more, even, than that, for the thing -savored of the supernatural, of necromancy, of a black art that might, -say, have had for its practitioner a certain personage with the eyes of a -damned soul and a black, forking beard, curled, like Mephisto’s; Annister -thought that it might. - -Further, the conductor of that train had been able to describe, somewhat -in detail, the man who had jostled the derelict and his companion; the -man had been a stranger to the conductor; he had been tall and thin, with -a small, sandy moustache, and a high-arched, broken nose, and he had been -wearing the conventional Stetson. The fellow might have been disguised, -of course, but if Annister could find the black-bearded man, discover his -identity, he was reasonably certain that he would not draw blank. - -It was no certainty, of course, but it was worth the risk, he told -himself. It would be a desperate hazard that he was about to face, he -knew. Thinking of his father, together with the remembrance of that -unholy and unspeakable horror that he had witnessed, born of the stinking -shadows of that dark street in a city foul and old, its people furtive -worshipers of strange gods, Annister felt again that crawling chill which -had assailed him with the passing of the tall man with the eyes of death. - -With Annister, to decide was to act. Dispatching a brief telegram in code -to a certain office in a certain building in Washington, he went now to -keep his rendezvous with Rook and the rest. It was yet early, scarce -eight in the evening, and the street was full of life and movement, -before him, and behind. - -And before him and behind, as he went onward, he was conscious that those -who walked there walked with him, stride for stride; they kept their -distance, moving without speech, as he turned the corner of the dusty -street. - -If he had had any doubt about it, the doubt became certainty as, wheeling -sharply to the left, they kept him company now, still with that grim, -daunting silence: a bodyguard, indeed, but a bodyguard that held him -prisoner as certainly as if the manacles were on his wrists. - -It was not yet dark, but with a rising wind there had come a sky overcast -and lowering; low down, upon the horizon’s rim to the eastward, the -violet blaze of the lightning came and went, with, after a little, the -heavy salvos of the thunder, like the marching of an armed host. - -But Annister, his gaze set straight ahead, turned inward at the entrance -of the saddler’s shop, mounting the stairs, as, behind him he heard the -heavy door slam shut. - -Perhaps it had been the wind, but as Annister went upward he heard, just -beyond that door, the murmur of voices; they reached him in a sing-song -mutter against the rising of the wind, in a quick, growling chorus. - -There had been something in that snarling speech to daunt a man less -brave than the man on that narrow stair, but Annister went upward, -lightly now, to meet whatever waited behind the door set with its -narrow panel that he could see merely as a dark smudge of shadow in the -encircling gloom. - -He rapped, twice, and the door fell open silently, disclosing the long -room in which, as he remembered, he had sat, but a few nights in the -past, to listen as the lawyer and his crowd had waited for the man called -“Bull.” - -The room was brightly lighted. At a long table, midway between door and -windows, five men were seated: Lunn, his fat face gray with a sort of -eager pallor, was chewing nervously at an unlighted cigar; he glanced up -now at Annister’s entrance, turning to a big man on his right. At the -head of the table, his veiled glance like the stare of a falcon, sat -Rook, but it was upon the big man next to Lunn that Annister’s glance -rested with an abrupt interest as the lawyer spoke: - -“Welcome to our city, Mr. Annister!” he said, in a voice that reminded -Annister of molasses dripping from a barrel. “I want you to meet—Mr. Bull -Ellison; he’s been right anxious to meet you, haven’t you, Bull?” - -Annister, in the passage of an eye-flash, understood. This was the man -whom he had encountered in the vestibule of the smoker, and, of a sudden, -memory rose up out of the past, and, with it, a picture: a padded ring -under twin, blazing arcs; the thud and shuffle of sliding feet; a man, -huge, brutish, broad, fists like stone mauls, yet, for all his bulk, a -very cat for quickness. - -“Bruiser” Ellison, they had called him then; a heavyweight whose very -brute strength had kept him from the championship; that, and a certain -easy good nature which was not apparent now in the bleak staring of the -eyes turned now upon Annister, remorseless, under lowered brows. - -Now, as if at a signal, the men about the table rose; the table was -hauled backward to the wall, leaving a wide, sanded space under the -lights. - -And then, even as Rook spoke, Annister abruptly understood: this gang of -thieves, as he knew now—“Plunder, Limited,” as Cleo Ridgley had called -them—Annister knew them now, under the leadership of Rook, for an outfit -which would stop short of nothing to attain its ends. His eyes, roving -the long room up and down, searched now for that dark face, with its -black, forking beard, but he was not really expecting to see it, but -that, if Rook was the actual leader, Black Beard was “the man higher up,” -Annister was, somehow, convinced. - -They had failed with Westervelt and his _segundo_; now, as the man called -“Bull” came forward across the floor, Rook spoke: - -“Ellison hasn’t forgotten his meeting with you, Annister; he says you -played him a dirty trick; hit him when he wasn’t looking; that right, -Bull?” he asked, with a certain sly malice directed at the giant with the -cauliflower ear. - -“And now,” Rook’s purring tones continued, “he wants satisfaction; he’ll -get it, won’t he, Mister Annister?” - -For a moment, as Annister’s eyes bored into his, the lawyer’s face -showed, like an animal’s, in a Rembrandtesque shading of high light and -shadow beneath the lights. Stripped of its mask, it was like the face -of a devil; now the mouth grinned, but without mirth, the lips drawn -backward from the teeth in a soundless snarl. He laughed suddenly, and -there was nothing human in it, as Annister, his back to the wall, smiled -grimly now in answer. - -He had been somewhat less than discreet, he reflected; Rook’s purpose -had shown in his eyes; he, Annister, had walked into a trap from which, -this time, there could be no escape. He had meant to beard them to their -faces, wring from Rook an admission as to his father, perhaps more; then -shoot his way out, if need be. - -But now—he would have to fight this giant, a ring veteran of a hundred -battles, with bare fists, surrounded by an encircling, hostile cordon, -who, if by any chance he might prove the victor, would see to it that he -paid for that victory with his life. - -Annister knew that it was on the cards that Rook, for instance, would -shoot him down as remorselessly as a man would squeeze a mosquito, say, -out of life between thumb and finger. But it was the lawyer’s humor, -doubtless, to see him manhandled, perhaps killed beneath the drumming -impact of those iron fists. - -Calmly, he removed his coat, bestowing his automatic in the pocket of his -trousers. He did it openly, turning to face Ellison, who, stripped to -an athletic undershirt and trousers, regarded Annister with a grinning -assurance. - -He was big; perhaps twenty pounds heavier than Annister, with wide -shoulders and a deep arching chest; with his forward-thrusting jaw and -bullet head, with its stiff fell of pig’s-bristles, the long arms like -a gorilla’s, he towered over his antagonist like a cave bear, a grizzly -waiting for the kill, and like a cave bear, at Rook’s snarling call of -“Time!” he was upon the lesser man like a thunderbolt, fists going like -flails. - -Annister, in his day and generation, had absorbed the science of hit, -stop, and getaway under masters of the art who pronounced him, as an -amateur, the equal of many a professional performer of the squared -circle; he was lean and hard, whereas Ellison’s waistline showed, under -the thin shirt, in folds of fat. - -If the onlookers expected to see Annister annihilated by that first, -furious rush, they were mistaken. Crouching, lightly, on the balls of -his feet, he drove forward a lightning straight left, full on the point. -Ellison, coming in, took it, grunting; the blow had traveled a scant six -inches, but there had been power in it. - -It set him back upon his heels, from which, as he rose, raging, he dove -in with a ripping one-two punch, which, partly blocked by his antagonist, -yet crashing through the latter’s guard, landed high upon his cheek-bone -with a spanking thud. - -It had been a grazing blow; otherwise, the fight might have ended then -and there. Annister, backing nimbly before the giant’s rush, realized -that he must avoid a clinch; at in-fighting the giant would have the -edge: those mast-like arms and massive shoulders, the huge bulk—they -would, at close quarters, with the drumming impact of the great fists, -have spelled a quick ending with the sheer, slugging power of the attack. - -He heard Rook snarl as, side-stepping like a sliding ghost, he countered -with a long, curving left. - -So far, he had been holding his own. If he could keep the giant at his -distance, he might wear him out. For this was not a fight by rounds; a -professional pugilist, fighting in the pink, would have had bellows to -mend at the end, say, of five minutes of a give-and-take encounter moving -at high speed. - -Circling, feinting, ducking, Annister kept that long left in his -adversary’s face, forcing the pace, yet keeping out of harm’s way save -for an overhand swing, which, landing high up upon his cheek-bone, turned -him half round with the impact, throwing him off balance to a slumping -fall. - -Up like a flash, however, he ducked, dodged, evading those mighty arms -that strove desperately to reach him through that impenetrable guard. - -A fight with four-ounce gloves can be a bloody affair enough, but with -nature’s weapons, under London Prize Ring rules, it can be a shambles. -Armed with the cestus or the mailed fist, Ellison might have wreaked -havoc as a gladiator of old Rome punished his adversary to the death. As -it was, Annister, his face a bloody mask, where that socking punch had -landed, gave Rook and his supporters heart of grace. - -“Take him, Bull!” - -The screaming advice was in the high voice of Lunn; the others echoed it. -But if Annister was in desperate case, the giant, sobbing now with the -fury of his spent strength, was weaving on his feet. - -Legs like iron columns upbore that mighty strength, but a pile-driving -right, behind it the full weight of Annister’s two hundred pounds of -iron-hard muscle, sinking with an audible “_plop!_” in his adversary’s -midriff, brought from the giant a quick, gasping grunt. - -Ellison’s endurance was almost done. He could “take it,” but, hog-fat -from a protracted period of easy living, professional fighter as he had -been, this amateur, with the arching chest of a greyhound and the stamina -of a lucivee of the long trail, was wearing him down. - -Trading punch for punch now, Annister abruptly cut loose with -pile-driving right and lefts; they volleyed in from every angle; there -was a cold grin on his lips now as he went round the giant like a cooper -round a barrel, bombarding him with a bewildering crossfire of hooks and -swings, jabs and uppercuts. - -Annister, at the beginning of the fight, had expected the usual tricks of -the professional: holding in the clinches; butting; the elbow; the heel -of the hand against the face; but Ellison had fought fair. - -Now, as the giant, boring in against that relentless attack, faltered, -mouth open, labored breath sucked inward through clenched teeth, Annister -stepped backward, hands dropping at his sides. - -Ellison, almost out, stood, weaving on his feet, fronting his adversary, -a queer look of surprise in his face, and a something more. Annister, -strangely enough, as has been mentioned, had, in spite of his encounter -with Ellison in the smoker, conceived something for the man that had -been close to liking. Somehow, rough as the man was; crooked, by all the -signs; the tool of Rook and of his minions, he had the blue eye of a -fighter—the straight, level look of a man who, though an enemy, would yet -fight fair. - -Annister, breathing heavily, thrust out his hand. - -“A draw, ha?” he said. “Well—suppose we let it go at that.” - -For a moment Ellison appeared to hesitate; there came again the queer -look in his eyes, as of surprise, wonder, and a something more. There -came a grating curse from Lunn; a sudden movement from the onlookers -roundabout. - -Ellison’s great paw closed on the extended hand with a grip of iron, as -Rook’s voice rose, strident, under the lights: - -“Bull—are you crazy? This man—he’s just—a dam’ _dick_!” - - -_CHAPTER TEN_ - -“IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!” - -It was out. Rook, his hand in a lightning stab for Annister’s coat, -turned over the lapel, holding it forward for all to see. - -On it was a small gold badge—the symbol of the Secret Service. The secret -was a secret no longer. - -How long Rook had known of it Annister could not be certain, but now, at -the growling chorus of swift hate, he whirled. His pistol came up and -out, as there came a startling interruption, or rather, two. - -He heard Ellison’s voice, roaring in the narrow room: - -“Hell’s bells, young fellow, I’m with you, and you can lay to that! For -this once, anyway! You sure can handle yourself!” - -He turned to Rook and the rest. “Now—you bums, get goin’! Dick or no -dick, I’ll play this hand as she lays. Get goin’!” - -The great hand, holding a heavy Colt, swung upward on a line with -Annister’s as the door burst inward with a crash; and, framed in the -opening, there showed on a sudden the flaming thatch of the bartender, -Del Kane. - -His cowboy yell echoed throughout the room, eyes blazing upon the hotel -man where he sat. - -In two strides, he had joined Annister and Bull; guns on a line, the -three fronted the five who faced them, silent, tense. Kane’s voice came -clear: - -“I followed you, Mr. Annister; thought they’d try t’ run a whizzer on -yuh; I’m pullin’ m’ freight after today, anyway; Mister Lunn can have his -job, an’ welcome! Now—I ben keepin’ cases on Mister Rook, he’s a curly -wolf, ain’t you, Rook? A real bad hombre, an’ you can lay to that! But he -ain’t goin’ northwest of nothin’, he ain’t.... Now, you dam’ short-horns, -show some speed!” - -But there was no fight in Rook, Lunn and Company. Glowering, their hands -in plain sight, weaponless, they sat in a sullen silence, as Annister, -backing to the doorway, was followed by Ellison and Kane. Outside, under -pale stars, the giant spoke: - -“I don’t aim to be too all-fired honest, Mister Annister,” he said. “I -throwed in with Mister Rook, that’s so, but he’s played it both ends -against the middle with me, I guess.... I reckon I’ll be movin’ out o’ -Dry Bone in two—three hours.” - -He grinned, wryly, out of the corner of his mouth. - -“You sure pack a hefty wallop, young fellow! I wish I could tell you -somethin’, but that man Rook, he’s as close-mouthed as an Indian, and -that’s whatever! His game—nobody knows what it is—Lunn, maybe—but they -sure got a strangle-hold on th’ county; it won’t be healthy for me here -after tonight.” - -The three men separated at the hotel, Annister entering the lobby with -a curious depression that abruptly deepened to a sudden, crawling fear -as a call-boy brought him a note. The fear was not for himself, but for -another, for, although he had never seen the handwriting before, he knew -it upon the instant. - -Ripping open the envelope with fingers that trembled, he read, and at -what he saw his face paled slowly to a mottled, unhealthy gray: - - “_Partner_: - - “_If you get this in time, please hurry. I’m in the toils, at - Dr. Elphinstone’s—it’s the stone house at the right of the road - leading north from Dry Bone—twenty miles, I think. I’ve bribed - a man to take this to you, and if he fails me, God help me!—God - help us all! If you fail me, you’ll never see me again—as Mary - Allerton, because the Devil’s in charge here, and they call him - the Jailer of Souls. I’ll be watching for you, at the south - window—you’ll know it by the red ribbon on the bars. And now—be - careful. If you get here at night beware of the guards—there - are three. And if it’s night there’ll be a rope hanging from - the window—you can feel for it in the dark. Now hurry._ - - “_MARY ALLERTON (No. 33)._” - -“_You’ll never see me again—as Mary Allerton._” Annister was aware again -of that crawling fear. “_The red ribbon on the bars._” The place was in -effect a prison, then. - -But—“_No. 33_”! Annister’s heart leaped up. He knew the meaning of those -numerals well enough; he had been blind not to have suspected it. But -“_Dr. Elphinstone_,” and “_The Jailer of Souls_!” - -Who could be the jailer of souls but the Devil? And Annister fancied that -he had seen the Devil at the corner of that street under the moon, with -his black, forking beard, and the cold eyes of death. - -The trail was warm now, as he thought, but—if he were too late? He put -the thought from him, turning to the perusal of a telegram in code which -he had found waiting for him at the desk; translated, it read: - - “With you Thursday with four, six, twenty-one, and the others. - Look for thirty-three. - - “CHILDERS.” - -But there was no time to be lost. Thursday was tomorrow. He would have to -take his chance of their finding him, for there was nobody whom he could -trust. Ellison had gone, even if he might have chanced the giant in so -delicate a matter; Del Kane, likewise. He must take his chance. Striding -to the door, he stiffened abruptly at a drumming rap, and a hoarse voice -in the corridor without: - -“Open up in there; open up!” - -Annister, a pulse in his temple beating to his hard-held breath, jerked -back the door, to face— - -Bristow, behind him three men whom he recognized as hangers-on at the -hotel bar. They had something of the look of long-riders, villainous, -hard-bitten; as one man, they grinned now, but without mirth, as the -sheriff spoke: - -“Annister—I arrest you for the murder of Tucson Charlie Westervelt and -Bartley Pattison. In th’ name of th’ Law!” - -Annister knew that if he resisted they would shoot him down; in fact, he -knew, too, that was what they wanted; it would be the easiest way. Under -the menace of the guns, he spread his hands, palms downward, preceding -the four men down the stairs outward to the jail. - -But as the heavy door clanged shut behind him, Annister, his gaze in a -sightless staring into the north, groaned, in bitterness of spirit. - -Mary was needing him: she was in peril, the greater because it was -unknown—and—he would not be there. - - -_CHAPTER ELEVEN_ - -THE HOUSE OF FEAR - -A house of silence, broken at times by a weird wailing as from the Pit; a -house of dreams, gray in the moonlight, under the leprous-silvered finger -of the moon, brooding now, a grim, gray fortress of the damned: the -stronghold of the Beast. - -Dense pines grew about it, so that when the wind wailed among them, like -the wailing of a lost soul, it met and mingled with an eerie ululation -rising as if muffled by many thicknesses of walls, to end, after a -little, with a quick shriek and a sudden hush, with, after a moment, the -faint echo of a taunting laugh. - -That laugh would have struck terror to the swart soul of a lucivee, if -lucivees have souls, for it was like an eldritch howling, faint and thin; -like the thin, tinkling laughter of a fiend, without pity and without -ruth. - -Here, in the sanitarium of Doctor Elphinstone, there were secrets within -secrets, walls within walls, downward, as in Dante’s Seventh Hell, and -from this monastery of the hopeless there penetrated, on occasion, -outward from its battlemented walls, wild, frantic laughter, but there -was nothing demoniac about it, because it was the laughter of the insane. - -But that other laughter, like a sound heard in dreams—passers-by, if -there were any such, hearing it, would shudder, and pass on. For the -secret of that house of doom was a secret, terrible and grim; a secret, -for him who might have guessed at it, to be whispered behind locked doors -and with bated breath. And there had been those who had whispered of -the lost souls within those walls, and the whisper ran that they were, -indeed, madmen who had not been always mad, because—they had become such -_after_ their commitment to the bleak house within the wood. - -These were but whispers, merely, for the power upon that house was not -alone the power of Evil, rising like a dark tide among the pines; for in -Dry Bone, and beyond it, in Palos Verde and Mojave, it was rumored that -the strong arm of the Law upheld it, or such law, say, as might have -issued from the devious hand of Hamilton Rook. - -Once—and it was never repeated—a man had come there from the capital; he -had demanded to see the doctor’s patients; that had been a long time in -the past. - -And as the investigator had stood there, viewing with a faint, creeping -horror the nondescripts paraded before him, gibbering, mouthing, in an -inarticulate, furious babble, a man had burst suddenly from the line with -a strangled cry: - -“Jerry—don’t you know me? I’m Humiston—Newbold....” - -The voice had been the voice of Humiston, but the face—it had been the -face of another, totally unlike; there had been no possible resemblance. -But the man had been—_sane_. The investigator was persuaded of that; -suffering under a peculiar delusion, indeed, but sane. - -The man had rushed forward then, baring his arm; and there, on that thin, -pitiful flesh that had once been healthy and hard, there ran a curious -design in red; the investigator sucked in his breath as that tell-tale -birth-mark sprang, livid, under his gaze. For he had seen it before. - -The doctor’s eyes had narrowed to slits; somehow, the man from the -capital had gained the impression that it was the first time that he had -seen that mark. But the investigator could do nothing. Birth-marks can be -duplicated. He had waited then, in a curious indecision as the bearded -doctor had interposed a suave: - -“Well, of course, Commissioner, you’re quite aware, or you should be, how -it is: these paranoiacs are noted for their delusions—ah—megalocephalic -tendencies, I should say.... They believe themselves to be—someone else, -and always a bank president, say, a famous actor, an author, a great -general.... Now—Mr. Humiston—you knew him, I believe?” Beneath the silken -tone there ran suddenly a hint of iron, of menace, veiled but actual; the -investigator felt it. “This patient knew your name, of course,” the suave -voice had continued. “Poor fellow—we must be gentle with him.” - -And there the matter had ended. Curiously enough, the man who had claimed -to be Banker Humiston had, after that first burst of frenzied speech, -kept silent. Perhaps that mordant gleaming in the doctor’s eyes had -telegraphed a warning, a message, a command. - -But the investigator went home, oddly shaken, to dream, like Pilate’s -wife, of a white face with staring eyes which changed, even as he gazed, -into the face of his friend, Newbold Humiston; to hear, even in his -dream, a voice, and it was the voice of the living, and of the dead. - - * * * * * - -In a bare cell, six feet by six—a cubicle in which there was barely -sufficient head room for a tall man to stand upright—a figure stood -with its hands clenched upon the bars, staring outward at the grim wood -visible to the south. - -Travis Annister had abode here in this living tomb three weeks now, three -centuries, in which, as in a nightmare of cold horror, he had been aware -merely of a face, three-pointed, bearded, the eyes active with a malign -intelligence, the lips smiling always with the cold smile of death. - -Twice a day the small panel in his cell door had slid backward without -sound, to frame, in the opening, the face of Dr. Elphinstone, like a face -without a body, and without a soul. - -The father of Black Steve Annister knew that it was not a dream that -would pass, because, on the second day, the head had spoken. Travis -Annister was scarcely a coward; he had fought like a baited grizzly when -surprised in his Summer camp by the men who had brought him, under cover -of the night, to this prison-house beyond the pale. - -Now, at the voice, like the slow drip of an acid, Annister stared -straight before him, with the gaze of a man who has abandoned hope. - -“My dear Mr. Annister,” the voice had whispered, “the little matter of -that check, if you please.... You will make it out to ‘Cash’.... Ah, that -is good; I perceive you are—wise.” - -It had not been the pistol in the lean, clawlike hand; nor the eyes, -even, brooding upon him with the impersonal, cold staring of a cobra; -Travis Annister might have refused if it had not been for those sounds -that he had heard, the sights that he had seen when, taken at midnight -from his cubicle, he had beheld the administration of the Cone. - -And, like Macbeth, with that one sight, and the sight of that which came -after, he had “supped full of horrors,” until now, at the bidding of that -toneless voice, he had obeyed. Three times thereafter, at the command of -his dark jailer, he had paid tribute, nor had he been, of all that lost -battalion, the single victim; there had been others.... - -Now, separated from him scarce a dozen feet, a girl with golden hair -sat, huddled, eyes in a sightless staring upon the stone floor of -her cell. Cleo Ridgley had not been killed; she had been saved for a -fate—beside which death would be a little thing—a fate unspeakable, even -as had—Number Thirty-three. - -Mary Allerton, removed from the others by a narrow corridor running -cross-wise in the cell-block, watched and waited now for the signal of -the man to whom she had dispatched that message, it seemed, a century in -the past. - -That morning they had found the rope; they had removed it without -comment, while the ophidian gaze of the dark Doctor had been bent upon -her with what she fancied had been a queer, speculative look: a look of -anticipation, and of something more. So far she had been treated decently -enough; her cell was wide and airy, plainly but comfortably furnished; -but as to that look in the gray-green eyes of the Master of Black -Magic—she was not so sure. - -There came a sudden movement in the corridor without; a panting, a -snuffling, and the quick _pad-pad_ of marching feet. Mary, her eye to -the keyhole of that door, could see but dimly; she made out merely the -sheeted figures, like grim, gliding ghosts; the figure, rigid, on the -stretcher, moving, silent, on its rubber-tired wheels. Then, at an odor -stealing inward through the key-hole, she recoiled. - -That perfume had been sickish-sweet, overpowering, dense and yet sharp -with a faint, acrid sweetness; the odor of ether. And then, although she -could not see it, a man in the next cell had risen, white-faced, from his -cot, to sink back limply as the dark hand, holding that inverted cone, -had swept downward to his face. - -A choked gurgle, a strangled, sharp cry, penetrating outward in a vague -shadow of clamor—and then silence, with the faint whisper of the wind -among the pines, the brool of the rushing river, the faint, half-audible -footfalls passing and repassing in that corridor of the dead. - - * * * * * - -Travis Annister sprang to his feet as the narrow door swung open to press -backward against the window-bars as the High-Priest of Horror, followed -by his familiars, cowled and hooded, entered with a slow, silent step. -The Doctor spoke, and his voice was like a chill wind: - -“My friend, I bring you—forgetfulness.... A brief Lethe of hours.... And -then—ah, then, you will be a _new_ man, a man re-born, my friend.... -Now....” - -Annister, his face gray with a sort of hideous strain, stared silent, -white-lipped, as, at a low-voiced order, the attendants came forward. - -The lean hand reached forward; it poised, darted, swooped; and in it was -the Cone. - - -_CHAPTER TWELVE_ - -CASTLE DANGEROUS - -Alone in his cell beneath the court-house, Black Steve Annister sat in -silence, gazing northward through the barred window to where, invisible -in the thick darkness just across the street, the road ran, straight -as an arrow from the bow, to that dark forest brooding in a changeless -silence where lay the House of Fear. - -Childers would have had his wire long since; but by the time that help -could come it would be—too late. Annister, fatalistic after a fashion, -felt this to be the fact even as he hoped against hope. - -But they were many, and he was but one. Tomorrow—it would be too late. - -Head bowed in his hands, oblivious, at first he had heard it as a thin -whisper, like a knife blade against the silence; it penetrated inward -now, with the dull rasp of metal upon metal from without: - -“_Sit tight, old-timer; I’m comin’ through!_” - -There came a muffled thud, a twist; Annister, reaching forth a hand, -found it clasped in thick groping fingers. Then, as he thrust head and -shoulders through the sundered bars, a Shadow uprose, gigantic, against -the stars; the voice came again, in a quick, rumbling whisper: - -“It’s me, old-timer—_Bull_.” - -Annister, crawling through the opening, alighted upon soft turf. He heard -Ellison’s low chuckle as, following the giant, he passed along the lee of -the building to where, showing merely as a black blot against the night, -there stood an automobile, its engine just turning over, with the low, -even purr of harnessed power; at twenty paces it was scarcely audible -above the rising of the wind. - -“Tank’s full,” said Ellison. “Now—” - -He turned abruptly as a dim figure rose upward just beyond. For a moment -Annister set himself for the onslaught; then his hand went out; it -gripped the hard hand of Del Kane. - -“Ellison done told me, Mr. Annister,” he said. “An’ so I come a-fannin’ -an’ a-foggin’ thisaway from Mojave; certain-sure I don’t aim to leave no -friend of mine hog-tied in no calaboose!” - -Annister, his heart warming to these friends, debated with himself; then -turned to Ellison with a sudden movement. - -“Bull,” he said. “I’m putting my cards on the table with you and Del, -here.” - -He told them briefly of the message from Mary, the need of haste; then, -of his mission, and of the help that was even now due, or would be, with -the morning. If they were coming with him, northward along that road of -peril, word must be left behind. - -Kane thought a moment; then, wheeling swiftly, with muttered word, he -disappeared in the darkness, to return presently with the good news that -he had fixed it with the station-agent. The latter had just come on; he -was a friend of Kane’s, and no friend of Rook and Company; he would see -to it, Kane said, that the reinforcements would be warned. - -Boarding the car, they swung out cautiously along the silent street, -under the pale stars, northward along that shadowy road. Presently there -would be a moon, but just now they went onward in a thick darkness, with, -just ahead, the dim loom of the road, flowing backward under the wheels, -which presently ran like a ribbon of pale flame under the bright beam of -the lights. - -A half mile from the town, and Bull, who was driving, opened up, and the -car leaped forward with the rising drone of the powerful motor, thirty, -forty, fifty miles an hour; the wind of their passage drove backward like -a wall as the giant’s voice came now in a rumbling laugh: - -“Some little speed-wagon, Mr. Annister, ha?” he said. “An’ that’s -whatever! It ought to be. The man who owns it—who _did_ own it half an -hour ago—he’s some particular, I’ll say! Because—it’s Mister Hamilton -Rook’s!” - -Annister laughed grimly in answer, speaking a low word of caution as, -after perhaps a half hour of their racing onrush the lights glimmered on -dark trees to right and left. - -“Somewhere about here, I think,” he said, low. “Three outside guards, I -understand. We’d better stop a little way this side, Bull ... that’s it. -Now, look!” - -As the big car slid slowly to a halt, the moon, rising above the trees, -showed them, perhaps a hundred yards just ahead, a low, rambling, stone -house, its windows like blind eyes to the night. Upon its roof the -moonlight lay like snow, and even at that distance it was sinister, -forbidding, as if the evil that was within had seeped through those -stones, outward, in a creeping tide. - -“Looks like a morgue,” offered Ellison, with a shrug of his great -shoulders, as the three, alighting, pushed the car before them into the -wood. - -Then, guns out, they went forward slowly among the trees. - -Annister had formed no definite plan of attack. The red ribbon at that -window-bar might or might not be visible under the moon, but, the guards -eliminated, it seemed to him that, after all, they would have to make -it an assault in force. Pondering this matter, of a sudden he leaped -sidewise as a dim figure rose upward almost in his face. - -Spread-eagled like a bat against the dimness, the figure bulked, huge, -against the moon as Annister, bending to one side, brought up his fist in -a lifting punch, from his shoe-tops. - -It was a savage blow; it landed with the sound of a butcher’s cleaver on -the chopping-block; there came a gasping grunt; the thud of a heavy body, -as the guard went downward without a sound. - -“One!” breathed Ellison, as, trussing their victim with a length of -stout line brought from the car, they left him, going forward carefully, -keeping together, circling the house. - -But it was not until they were half way round it, with, so far, no sign -of that signal for which he looked, that they encountered the second -guard. - -He came upon them with a swift, silent onrush, leaping among the trees, -a great, dun shape, spectral under the moon, fangs bared, as, without a -sound, the hound drove straight for the giant’s throat. - -A shot would bring discovery; they dared not risk it. Annister could see -the great head, the wide ruff at the neck, the grinning jaws.... Then, -the giant’s hands had gone up and out; there came a straining heave, a -wrench, a queer, whistling croak; Ellison, rising from his knees, looked -downward a moment to where the beast, its jaw broken by that mighty -strength, lay stretched, lifeless, at his feet. - -By now they had come full circle, when, all at once, Annister, peering -under his hand, sucked in his breath with a whispered oath. - -Fair against the bars of a window, low down at their right, there was a -dark smudge; the ribbon, black under the moon. Annister’s heart leaped up -in answer, as, with a quick word, he halted his companions in the shadow -of a tree. A moment they conferred; then Ellison—and Annister could -almost see his grin in the darkness—spoke beneath his hand: - -“Why, that’ll be easy! I’ve got m’ tools; they’re right here in my -pocket, Mr. Annister! Those bars ought to be easy! For a fair journeyman -sledge-swinger, it’ll be easy an’ you can lay to that!” - -“Good!” whispered Annister in answer. “But—hurry!” - -The moonlight lay in a molten flood between them and the house. But -it was no time now for deliberation. Crossing that bright strip at a -crouching run, the three were at the window; Annister’s harsh whisper -hissed in the silence, through those iron bars: - -“_Mary!_” - -For a heart-beat silence answered him; then, faint and thin, in a faint, -tremulous, sobbing breath, there came the answer: - -“Steve—thank God!” - -Annister had spoken the girl’s name without thought. At that high moment -forms had been futile; that whisper had been wrung from him, deep-down, -as had her answer. And then the soft rasp of steel on steel told that -Ellison was at work. - -But the giant was working against time. At any moment now might come the -alarm; they had no means of knowing the number of those within those -walls; perhaps even now peril, just behind, might be stalking them, out -of the dark. - -And still that soft rasp went on, until, at a low word from the girl, the -giant, laying down his file, bent, heaved, putting his shoulder into it; -and the bars sprang outward, bent and twisted in that iron grasp. - -Annister, his hand reaching for the hand of the girl, went inward -silently, to stand a moment, without speech, in the thick darkness of the -little cell. But it was no time for dalliance. - -Kane and Ellison behind him now, he set his shoulder against the door, -as, Ellison aiding, it splintered outward with a soft, carrying crash. -Ahead of them, along a dark, narrow corridor, there had come on a sudden -sound of voices, murmurs; Annister, going toward that sound, saw suddenly -an open door; light streamed from it as the murmur of voices rose: - -“My friend, I bring you—forgetfulness....” - -The words came in a sort of hissing sibilance as Annister, reaching that -doorway, halted a moment as the tableau was burned into his brain: - -He saw his father, helpless, his face gray with the hideous terror of -that which was upon him, in the grasp of two cloaked and hooded figures, -their dark faces grinning with a bestial mirth. - -And before him, hand upraised and holding a curious, funnel-shaped object -at which the man in the corner shrank backward even as he looked, he saw -a tall man with a black, forking beard—the same that he had seen that -evening at the corner of the street; the same that he had seen in that -dim backwater of Rangoon, the Unspeakable—the man with the dark, foreign -visage, and the eyes of death. - - -_CHAPTER THIRTEEN_ - -THE JAILER OF SOULS - -Annister’s gun went up and out as the black-bearded man, turning, saw him -where he stood. - -Travis Annister, parchment-pale, took two forward, lurching steps, as -the doctor, backing stiffly against the wall, hands upraised, called -something in a high sing-song, savage, inarticulate. - -Then—everything seemed to happen at once. A snarling, animal outcry -echoed from the passage just without; it rose, as there came a far, -gobbling mutter of voices, and the _pad-pad_ of running feet. - -The hooded Familiars, as one man, turned, and the long knives flashed, -luminous, under the lights, as Kane and Ellison, meeting them half way, -raised their heavy guns. - -Annister, covering the Doctor, froze suddenly in motion as that gobbling -horror mounted, and then, filling that narrow way like figures in a -dream, they came: the outcasts, the lost battalion, the Men Who Had no -Right to Live. - -In their van, but running rather as if pursued than as if in answer to -that snarling call, there came three men, guards by their dress, their -faces contorted, agonized, upon them the impress of a crawling fear. They -streamed past that door, pursuers and pursued, as Black Steve Annister, -finger upon the trigger of his pistol, saw that lean hand sweep upward; -it flicked the thin lips; the dark face grayed, went blank; the Dark -Doctor, his gaze in a queer, frozen look upon Eternity, pitched forward -upon his face. - -In some way, as Annister could understand, the madmen had won free, -but—how? - -Turning, he saw a white face at his elbow as there sounded from without -the staccato explosions of a motor, and a swift, hammering thunder upon -the great door. - -“I am—Newbold Humiston,” said the face, “and I am not mad, or, rather, I -am but mad north-north-west when the wind is southerly,” he quoted, with -a ghastly smile. “This devil—” he pointed to the body of Elphinstone—“has -gone to his own place, but the evil that he did lives after him—in _us_.” - -His voice rose to a shriek as there came a rush of feet along the -corridor: a compact body of men, at their head a tall man at sight of -whom Stephen Annister flung up a hand. - -“Well, Childers,” he said. “I’m glad!” - -Childers spoke pantingly, in quick gasps: - -“We just made it, old man,” he said. “A day ahead at that. The station -agent put us on the track. We got ’em all—Lunn, and the rest; all but -Rook—” - -He paused, at Annister’s inquiring look, turning his thumb down with an -expressive gesture. - -“We found him—strangled—in his office ... a queer business....” - -Annister gave an exclamation. - -“The Indian!” he said. “Well, Rook was the ‘Third Light,’ sure enough!” - -Again he was seeing the lean, avid face in the vestibule of the smoker, -the lighted match; himself, and the conductor, and Rook, the lawyer’s -pale eyes brooding above the glowing end of his cigarette.... And again, -as the picture passed, he was aware of the white face at his elbow as -Mary Allerton, her hand in his, behind her the golden hair and the wide -eyes of Cleo Ridgley, turned to Childers with a smile that yet had in it -a hint of tears. - -He that had been Newbold Humiston continued: - -“The others—they’re quiet now. The guards have gone—to follow _him_—the -others saw to that.” - -He gestured toward the silent figure on the floor. - -“His plan was worthy of his master, the Devil, because it was -diabolically simple: Rook was his procurer and his clearing-house; you -see, Rook found the victims, and cashed the checks that Elphinstone wrung -from them; and then, when they had cleaned up, or when they deemed the -time was ripe, the victims—disappeared. Rook’s secretary they kidnapped -for revenge; Miss Allerton because she knew much; they suspected that she -was in the Secret Service. And so—these others disappeared.” - -He laughed; the laugh of a dead man risen from the tomb. - -“They disappeared—yes—but—they remained, as you see—myself—a living -ghost!” - -“But how?” asked the younger Annister, in the sudden quiet, the -realization of what his father and Mary had escaped burning like a quick -fire in his veins. The toneless voice went on: - -“Elphinstone was a surgeon, a master.... You’ve heard of Dermatology? -Well, it’s been done in India, I believe; practiced there to an extent -unknown here, of course. An anesthetic, and then an operation: new faces -for old, forged faces; the thing was diabolically simple. And so when -they, the victims, saw themselves in a mirror, sometimes they went mad, -for who could prove it? Who would be believed?” - -His voice rose, died, gathered strength, as a candle flames at the last -with a brief spark of life: - -“It’s done,” he muttered. “He’s gone—but his work lives after him, even -as he called himself—the Jailer of Souls!” - - -THE END. - - - - -Editor Baffled by Weird Seance - - -Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s lecture tours in the United States have created -wide discussion and considerable difference of opinion, some persons -contending that he is really in communication with the spirit world, -while others declare that he is the victim of tricksters. In order to -conduct an impartial investigation, J. Malcolm Bird, associate editor -of The Scientific American, attended several of Sir Arthur’s seances, -and afterward declared that he had observed psychic phenomena that -could hardly be explained by any known natural cause. He could discover -no physical connection between the medium or the spectators and the -phenomena, and he saw mysterious self-luminous lights, attributed by Sir -Arthur to ectoplasm, and heard strange noises that defied his efforts to -establish a natural cause. - -“My best judgment would be that both in direction and subject matter much -of the ‘communicated’ material of the seance would be quite beyond the -normal ability of the medium,” he said. “The seance entered a phase which -seems to me to prove, without question, that telepathy or some other -force with intelligence behind it was at work. - -“The trumpet began to talk, loudly and distinctly and coherently, in a -voice that had not yet been heard.... It was not ordinary ventriloquism, -because the ventriloquist cannot work in the dark. He doesn’t deceive -your ears, but rather your eyes, by directing your attention to the point -whence he wishes you to infer that the sound came. The voice really came -from the center of the circle.” - - - - -JACK O’ MYSTERY - -_A Modern Ghost Story_ - -_By_ EDWIN MacLAREN - - -The limousine came to a glistening stop before an office building in -Monroe Street, and a handsome woman of thirty, expensively and stylishly -gowned, emerged from the car and entered the building, her mien -bespeaking nervousness. - -Furtively, as one who fears pursuit, she hastened across the marble -rotunda, edged hurriedly into an elevator and ascended to the ninth -floor, where she approached a door bearing upon its opaque glass panel -the gilt lettering: - - BARRY DETECTIVE AGENCY - -She paused here for a moment, in an effort to recover her equanimity; and -then, with a brave assumption of self-assurance, she opened the door and -entered the room and closed the door behind her. - -[Illustration] - -The room was quite deserted; but promptly from an adjoining chamber there -came a lean-faced young man of inquiring blue eyes, who courteously -greeted her. - -“Is Mr. Barry in?” she asked. “Mr. Herbert Barry?” - -“I am Herbert Barry,” he said. - -“Oh!” Surprised, she eyed the slim young man half incredulously. He -seemed scarcely more than a boy. “Mrs. Franklin Parker told me about -you—recommended you very highly. Perhaps that is why,” she added, with a -smile, “I expected to find an older man.... I suppose most of the people -who come to see you are in trouble of some sort. _I_ am not in trouble, -exactly, but—” She glanced around the office. “May I have a word with you -in privacy?” - -He held open the door to the adjoining room. “Suppose we step in here? My -stenographer is at lunch. There’s no danger of our being disturbed.” - -Preceding him into the inner office, she bade him lock the door; and, -thus assured of their safety from interruption, she sat nervously on -the edge of a chair and faced him across the flat-top desk. There -clung to her, somehow, a subtle suggestion of wealth and luxury, and -her well-chiseled features denoted good breeding. Subtle, too, was the -delicate odor of violets that fragrantly touched his nostrils as she -leaned toward him across the desk. Then he noticed she wore a rich -cluster of the flowers upon her mauve silk waist. - -He observed, also, the purplish shadows beneath her large brown eyes, -her half-frightened, half-worried demeanor and her air of suppressed -excitement, as though she were struggling to control some inner -perturbation. - -“Perhaps I’ve made a mistake,” she began, “in coming here. I don’t know. -But I’ve been so perplexed, so utterly mystified, by some strange things -that have happened lately—Did you ever hear of Willard Clayberg?” she -broke off suddenly to ask. - -Barry knitted his brows. The name had a familiar sound. - -“Yes,” he said, after a pause, “I seem to remember him. Wasn’t he the -North Shore millionaire who went insane last winter and killed his wife -and himself?” - -She nodded. Her elbows were resting on the desk and her slender fingers, -interlaced beneath her small white chin, were twitching. - -“Exactly. They lived, as you probably recall, in a quaint old-fashioned -home near Hubbard Woods—just the two of them; no children. Following -the tragedy, the house was closed up and for a long while remained -unoccupied. Despite the scarcity of dwelling places, nobody apparently -cared to live there. For one thing, it is not a modern residence, and for -another—and this really seemed the most serious objection—it had acquired -a reputation of being ‘haunted.’ - -“Of course,” she went on, with a nervous little laugh, “you will say—just -as _I_ said—that such a thing is perfectly absurd. You’d think that no -normal person would take it seriously. And yet there were so many strange -things told about the house—creepy stories of weird sounds in the dead -of night and unearthly things seen through the windows—that people, -ordinarily level-headed, began to shun the place. - -“I have never believed in ghosts, Mr. Barry, and I’ve always ridiculed -people who did; but now—Do you know my husband, Scott Peyton?” - -“I’ve heard of him,” said Barry. “Architect, isn’t he?” - -“A very successful one. He has designed some of the finest buildings in -Chicago. But he’s the most superstitious man alive! He’s a Southerner, -born in Georgia, and at childhood his negro ‘mammy’ filled his mind with -all manner of silly superstitions, including a deathly fear of ‘ha’nts.’ -He has never been able to overcome this, although both of us have tried. - -“About three weeks ago,” Mrs. Peyton continued, her voice betraying her -agitation, “he and I were motoring along the North Shore when we espied -this old Clayberg estate. The quaint charm of the old-fashioned place at -once enchanted me; and when we alighted and strolled through the grounds -my enchantment grew. It seemed as if Nature had outdone herself in -lavishing picturesque beauty there. Mr. Peyton was as fascinated as I. - -“We were planning, at that time, to give up our town apartment and buy a -suburban home; and this seemed to be just the thing we were looking for. -We inquired of the neighbors concerning it, and it was then we discovered -its tragic history. When my husband was told of the hideous thing that -had happened there last winter, and of its evil reputation since, his -enthusiasm vanished, and I immediately saw he would never consider buying -it. - -“But I had set my heart on having that place; and later—after I had -pleaded and argued with him in vain—I decided to buy it myself and, -by compelling him to live there, perhaps cure him permanently of his -superstitious fear. I saw the agent next day, learned the old home could -be bought at a bargain, and had my father buy it and deed it to me. - -“My husband was furious when I told him what I had done. He declared -he would never enter the house and urged me to sell it forthwith. But -I was as firm as he; and finally, after a rather violent argument and -by taunting him with being a coward, I contrived to get his reluctant -consent to make our home in the ‘haunted house’.” - - * * * * * - -“We moved in last Thursday,” said Mrs. Peyton sitting nearer the desk and -lowering her voice, “and on Thursday night, and every night since then—” -She exhaled audibly, her lip quivering. - -“What happened?” asked Barry. - -“It’s been a nightmare!” she exclaimed with sudden vehemence. “Ever since -that first night the most peculiar things have happened. I don’t know -what to make of it, or what to think, or do. It’s baffling! I’m not in -the least superstitious; and yet—” - -“Start at the beginning,” suggested Barry, “and tell me exactly what -happened.” - -“Well, the first night we slept in the master’s bedroom—a large front -room on the second floor—and about midnight I was awakened by my husband, -who was sitting up in bed, gasping and trembling with terror. Before -I could speak, he sprang from bed and switched on the light and began -frantically searching the room, looking into the closets and under the -bed and peering into the hall. - -“‘For heaven’s sake!’ I cried. ‘What’s the matter?’ - -“He pointed to the corridor door. His hand was trembling and his face was -as white as paper. For a moment he seemed unable to speak. - -“‘It came right through that door!’ he said at last. ‘I woke up just as -it came in the room—a ghastly-looking old man with white hair and a long -beard. It didn’t open the door, but came right _through_ it!’ - -“‘Nonsense!’ I laughed. ‘You’ve been thinking about ghosts until you -imagine you’re seeing them. Now come back to bed and go to sleep.’ - -“But he indignantly insisted he had actually seen the thing. - -“‘I saw it cross the room,’ he declared, ‘and stop at the bed and stand -there looking down at me. When I sat up it disappeared—vanished into air.’ - -“I couldn’t believe such a preposterous thing, of course, but, to humor -him, I offered to get up and help him search the house. - -“‘What good would that do?’ he objected. ‘I tell you the thing was a -_spirit_!’ - -“Finally he went back to bed. But he slept no more that night. At -breakfast next morning I could see he hadn’t closed his eyes. - -“On the following night I again was awakened by my husband, who seemed -even more frightened than before. - -“‘It came back again!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘It was puttering around -your desk over there.’ - -“Then he jumped out of bed and ran to the desk and lit the lamp there. -A moment later he uttered a sharp cry and came hurrying back to my bed, -with a sheet of writing paper in his hand. - -“‘Look at that!’ he exclaimed, and thrust the paper before my eyes. - -“I saw written on the paper, in a sprawling hand, the words, ‘_Leave this -House!_’ and I knew then that somebody had been in the room. - -“I got up and tried the door. It was still locked and the key was in the -hole, just as I had left it. The windows hadn’t been touched, apparently. -How, then, had the person entered our room? - -“My husband, of course, insisted it was not a living being, but a ghost, -who could pass through a locked door as though it didn’t exist. And, as -before, he refused to look for it. - -“Next day, however, with our cook and houseman, I thoroughly searched the -house from top to bottom—and found nothing. No trace of anybody having -entered the house. Nothing wrong anywhere. - -“On Saturday night I was awakened again—this time by a frantic knocking -on our bedroom door. I sat up, startled. My husband was sleeping soundly, -exhausted after two sleepless nights. - -“I slipped quietly from bed, without disturbing him, and tiptoed to the -door and whispered through the panel: - -“‘Who’s there?’ - -“The cook’s voice answered, and I could tell by her tone she was terribly -frightened: - -“‘It’s me, ma’am. I’m leavin’ this house tonight. I won’t stay here -another minute!’ - -“I opened the door and stepped out in the hall—taking care not to awake -Mr. Peyton—and found Clara fully dressed and holding her traveling-bag. -It was evident she had dressed in considerable haste, and it was equally -plain that she was almost paralyzed with fear. - -“‘I just seen a spook!’ she gasped. ‘An old man with white hair and -whiskers. He come right in my room while I was asleep. I woke up and seen -’im. And he writ somethin’ on my dresser. You c’n see for yerself, ma’am, -what he writ there.’ - - * * * * * - -“Fearful of awakening my husband, I had drawn her away from the bedroom -door; and now, with some difficulty, I persuaded her to follow me to her -room, where I found, written in white chalk across the bureau mirror, the -command: ‘_Leave here at once!_’ - -“Clara was determined to obey this ‘message from the dead’ by leaving -instantly. I couldn’t induce her even to stay until morning. Despite my -protests and entreaties, she fled from the house and passed the remainder -of the night, as I later discovered, in the Hubbard Woods railroad -station, taking an early train for Chicago. - -“I tried to keep the occurrence from my husband, inventing an excuse for -Clara’s hasty departure, but he wormed the truth from me, and of course -that further harassed his already overwrought nerves. Also, it gave him -the right to say, ‘I told you so!’ - -“He renewed his pleading to abandon the house; but I still refused to -give it up—still refused to admit that it was ‘haunted,’ or that there -was anything supernatural in what he and Clara had seen. - -“It didn’t end there, unhappily. On the very next night—that was night -before last—the houseman was visited by the mysterious ‘thing.’ He said -he saw it in his room, after midnight, stooping over his table, that he -shouted at it and it disappeared. Then, so he told us, he got up and -struck a light and discovered the ‘ghost’ had been trying to send a -message to him by arranging some matches on the table. - -“He showed us these matches, saying he had left them just as they were -found. They were so placed as to spell the word, ‘_LEAVE_,’ in capital -letters. Evidently the ‘ghost’ was frightened away before he could finish -his sentence. Needless to say, the houseman left us. - -“Well, in spite of all these things, I simply couldn’t bring myself to -believe that the mysterious visitations were supernatural. I was sure -there must be some logical explanation. But _last_ night—!” - -“What happened last night?” asked Barry, as Mrs. Peyton paused. - -Mrs. Peyton, still sitting forward in her chair, was searching in her -reticule. Barry noticed her fingers were unsteady and that her underlip -was caught between her teeth to still its quivering. - -“Last night,” she went on, with a transparent effort at lightness, “_I_ -saw the ‘ghost’! Please don’t smile! I was quite wide awake when I saw -it—as wide awake as I am this moment—and in full possession of all my -wits. And I can’t understand yet how it got in my room, or how it got -out, or even what it was. - -“I was alone in the house, too,” she continued, taking a photograph from -the reticule and placing it, face down, on the desk. “Yesterday afternoon -Mr. Peyton telephoned from his office that he must stay downtown rather -late to attend a meeting of building contractors and suggested that I -come in to the city for dinner, and bring a friend and ‘take in a show,’ -and meet him afterward. But I wasn’t in the mood and told him I’d prefer -to stay at home. - -“‘But I won’t be home before twelve o’clock,’ he said, ‘and I don’t like -the idea of your being all alone in that house at night, without even a -servant on the place.’ - -“I reminded him that the chauffeur and gardener were still with us (they -sleep in the garage and hadn’t been alarmed by the ‘spook’), and with -these two and Mitch, our Scotch collie, to guard me I felt perfectly -safe. As for the ‘ghost,’ I laughingly told him, I really would enjoy -meeting it and having a chat on its astral adventures. - -“He declined to unbend from his seriousness and became irritated when I -refused to leave the house. We had quite a tiff, but I finally had my -way, and the best he could get was a promise from me to lock myself in -before going to bed. He said he would sleep in one of the guest chambers. - -“After a pick-up meal in the kitchen, I went upstairs to our room and -wrote letters until ten o’clock. Then I prepared for bed. - -“For a moment I regretted not having done as my husband asked. The house -_did_ seem eerie; no denying that—big and dark and silent, and not a -living creature in it except myself. - -“But I quickly shook off this feeling, assuring myself there was no such -thing as a ghost, and, even if there was, that it couldn’t possibly -harm me. However, remembering my promise, I locked the door and put the -key under my pillow, and bolted all the windows, and, as an additional -precaution, I looked under the bed and inspected both closets. And I knew -_absolutely_, when I put out the light and got into bed, that I was the -only person in that room. - -“I was soon asleep,” said Mrs. Peyton, again feeling in her handbag, -“and it seemed only a few minutes later—though I know now it was several -hours—when I found myself wide awake. I suppose it was the lack of fresh -air that awoke me. I’m accustomed to sleeping with the windows open. - -“I was on the point of getting up to open a window when, all at once, my -blood seemed to freeze. I discovered, quite suddenly, _I was not alone in -the room_!” - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Peyton paused and drew from the handbag a sheet of blue linen -notepaper. Nervously creasing the paper in her slender white fingers, she -continued, with heightening agitation, her large brown eyes earnestly -watching the detective’s face: “I won’t deny, Mr. Berry, that I was -frightened. In fact, I confess that I was so terrified I seemed utterly -powerless to move or speak. I had always supposed if I ever _should_ -see a ghost I would feel no fear whatever. But now that I found myself -actually looking at one—or at least looking at what, in that frightful -moment, I potently _believed_ to be one—I was petrified with terror. - -“It was sitting at my desk, right where I’d been sitting all evening, and -its back was toward me. The moon had risen and was shining through the -windows, brightening the room with a pale half-light. - -“The figure at the desk appeared to be writing. In fact, I could hear the -scratching of the pen. I could also hear the ticking of a small clock on -the desk. That’s how still everything was. - -“Well, it sat there writing—a blurred, shapeless object in the silvery -moonlight—for I don’t know how long. It seemed an age! And all the time I -was conscious—terrifyingly so—that I was alone in that great house with -it!” - -Mrs. Peyton paused and took the photograph from the desk. - -“Instinctively, I tried to scream,” she went on, “but my throat was -parched and I seemed unable to utter a sound. However, I must have made -some sort of noise, for the thing suddenly turned and looked at me over -its shoulder. And for the first time, I saw its face.” - -“What was the face like?” asked Barry. - -She handed him the photograph. - -“That’s a picture of it,” she said. - -It was a kodak “snapshot” of an aged man with flowing white hair and -a patriarchal beard. Turning it over, Barry saw written on the back, -“Willard Clayberg, December, 1922.” - -“It’s Mr. Clayberg’s last picture,” said Mrs. Peyton. “I obtained it this -morning from one of his grandsons. It was taken last winter, shortly -before the dreadful tragedy at our house.” - -“Getting back to last night?” reminded Barry. - -“Oh, yes! Well, the thing sat there, quite silent and motionless, staring -at me through the moonlight. Its face was the same as the one in that -picture, only, somehow, it didn’t seem _real_. It was peculiarly pallid -and lifeless—like the face of a dead person. - -“Finally I found my voice and cried out: ‘Who are you? What are you doing -here?’ - -“Instantly the thing rose from the desk, without making a particle of -sound, and glided swiftly and silently across the room—and disappeared! - -“That seemed to revive my courage—the thought that I had frightened it -away—and I sprang from bed and ran to the door. - -“The door was still locked! I tried the windows. They were still bolted. -Neither the door nor the windows had been touched. Everything in the -room, in fact, was just as I had left it upon going to bed. - -“Then I crossed to my desk and lit the lamp there and found—this!” Mrs. -Peyton offered the sheet of note paper, which she had been nervously -fingering. - -Barry unfolded it and read the words scrawled upon its blue surface: - - “_Again I warn you to leave this house. This is the last—_” - -“When I interrupted him,” explained Mrs. Peyton, “he apparently had just -written the word, ‘last.’” - -Barry nodded and narrowly examined the handwriting. It was old-style -script, angular and shaky, indicative of a very aged and infirm person. - -“Have you the notes received by Mr. Peyton and the cook?” - -“No; but I saw them. Both were written in the same hand as that,” -indicating the sheet of blue paper. - -Barry again looked at the photograph, holding it to the light and -inspecting it closely. Suddenly he asked: - -“What sort of clothing did your visitor wear?” - -“Why, as I remember, he wore a sort of long gray robe and a queer little -cap—a skullcap, maybe. But it was all very blurred and indistinct. He -seemed to be enveloped in a kind of gray mist. With his white hair and -beard, the effect was quite ‘creepy.’” - -“Anything else happen last night?” - -“Nothing—except that I passed the rest of the night trying to solve the -riddle. The first thing I did, after finding the note, was to try the -door and windows again—and I again made sure they hadn’t been touched. I -knew positively that nobody could get in the room _except_ through the -door or windows, so _how_ had the old man entered? - -“I was still hunting an answer to that question, and growing more -perplexed than ever, when I heard a heavy footfall on the front porch; -then the front door opened and closed with a _bang_, and my husband came -bounding noisily upstairs. I knew from this he had seen the light at my -window, even before he called to me reprovingly through the bedroom door: -‘Haven’t you turned in yet? It’s ’way after one o’clock.’ - -“It was then I decided to say nothing to him about what happened. And I -haven’t. - -“But this morning, as soon as he’d left for the office, I called on Mrs. -Parker and told her everything. She suggested that I see you. I hesitated -at first to do this, because only yesterday I spoke to Mr. Peyton -about calling in the police or employing a detective to investigate -the mystery, and he vigorously objected. He really believed the thing -was supernatural and declared that no living person could overcome it. -The only thing to do, he said, was to leave the house as the ‘spirit’ -commanded. - -“I finally decided, however, to follow Mrs. Parker’s suggestion, -particularly as she recommended you so highly—and so, quite unknown to my -husband, here I am! - -“And now, Mr. Barry,” said Mrs. Peyton, sitting back in her chair for -the first time and moving her white hands in a pretty gesture of relief, -“what do _you_ make of it all?” - - * * * * * - -Barry, examining the feeble handwriting beneath a reading-glass, -discerned what appeared to be a startling solution of the mystery; but, -deeming it best for the moment to say nothing of this, he offered an -obvious answer to her question: - -“From what you have told me, Mrs. Peyton, it would seem that an unknown -person, concealed in your house, is bent on frightening you away.” - -“But I’ve thoroughly searched the house,” she protested, “not once, but -several times; and I know positively that nobody is hidden there—and that -nobody has broken in. Besides, even if the old man _was_ in the house, or -_had_ broken in, how did he enter my room last night?” - -“Perhaps, after I’ve inspected the room—” - -“Can you do it, without Mr. Peyton knowing?” - -“Quite easily, I think, with our help. Since you are in need of servants, -my presence can readily be explained—” - -“Why, of course!” she eagerly interrupted. “Our new houseman! It will -seem quite plausible, too,” she added, rising and glancing at her watch, -“particularly since I’ve just engaged a new cook—who is waiting for me -now, by the way, in my car. We had best start at once, Mr. Barry. It’s -nearly one, and my husband is usually home before six.” - -... A little later, as the Peyton limousine smartly threaded its way -through the downtown streets, Barry, sitting on the front seat beside -the chauffeur, planned a procedure that would either substantiate, or -explode, his tentative explanation of the white-bearded “ghost.” - -His first step was taken immediately: At a State Street department store -he secretly bought a pad of cheap writing paper, a package of ungummed -envelopes, ten two-cent stamps, a thick lead pencil, a jar of mucilage -and an oblong carton of sterilized gauze. - -Later still, upon reaching the “haunted house,” he saw no cause to revise -his plan, and no reason to doubt that the solution he already had formed, -although amazing, was essentially correct. - -With the new cook installed in the kitchen, Mrs. Peyton conducted him to -the second-floor front bedroom—a commodious south chamber—where she had -seen the “ghost” last night. Barry looked at the small mahogany desk, -surveyed the white-enameled twin beds, measured their distance from the -corridor door and carefully examined the lock thereon. - -Then, swiftly though systematically, he searched the rest of the house -and afterward strolled outdoors. Sauntering across the velvety lawns, -beneath the aged trees, he casually approached the garage some two -hundred feet from the house. He had found nothing in the house, and now -saw nothing in the surrounding grounds, to suggest the weird things he -had heard. Here, to all appearance, was only an old-fashioned suburban -home dozing peacefully in the mellow sunshine of a midsummer afternoon. - -At the garage, which aforetime had been a stable, he engaged in -back-stairs gossip with Frank Dominick, the chauffeur—in the presence of -the gardener, John Hart, an uncommunicative person—and learned that both -were preparing to “give notice.” - -“We ain’t actually _seen_ old Clayberg’s ghost—at least not _yet_,” said -Dominick, “but we’ve heard enough about ’im and I guess he’ll be callin’ -on us next. I guess the only reason we ain’t seen ’im before is because -we sleep up there,” pointing to the upper floor of the garage. “Take my -advice, friend, and don’t stay here over night. Am I right, John?” - -John Hart, a senile man, shifted his cud of tobacco and expectorated -lavishly, thus contributing a fresh stain to his ragged white beard. - -“You’re right,” said he, and spoke no more. - -Returning to the house, Barry was given a white jacket and a pair of blue -trousers by Mrs. Peyton; and at six o’clock, wearing these garments and -a servile mien, he was laying the dinner table when the master of the -house arrived. Barry, with a plate and napkin in his hands, observed him -through the doorway—a trim-looking man of thirty-five—and remarked the -harrowing fear that sat upon his countenance. - -His haggard eyes, like those of his wife, denoted loss of sleep; and he -evinced no interest in her “luck in finding two perfect servants.” In the -same troubled preoccupation, he acknowledged the introduction of Barry, -who was presented as Thomas Field. Clearly, he was too frightened and -worried to be conscious of his environment. - -Dinner over, Barry went to his room. It was a tiny chamber tucked -under the eaves at the rear of the top floor, and it was here that his -predecessor had beheld the “apparition” night before last. Upon the small -table, where the word, “LEAVE” had been spelled with matches, Barry -spread the articles which he had bought this afternoon. - -Then he drew the table to the window, and lighted the lamp, and sat down -and began writing letters to mythical persons in Iowa. His door stood -open, and so did the window, and anybody passing in the hall, or standing -north of the house, could have watched him at his employment. - -For upward of two hours he sat steadily writing, his back to the door, -his face silhouetted against the window; and when he had written -five letters, and had stamped and directed them to his imaginary -correspondents, he uncorked the mucilage pot and sealed the flaps of the -envelops. - -And then, somehow, he awkwardly upset the bottle of mucilage, and the -stuff oozed stickily over his pencil and paper. - -It was at this moment, or perhaps a little earlier, that he heard a -slight rustle in the hall behind him, as of somebody moving away from his -door, but, apparently intent only upon cleaning the mucilage from the -table, he never looked round or gave any sign that he heard. - -Presently he extinguished the light and, disrobing in the darkness, -looked from his window. The old Clayberg stable, now Peyton’s garage, -loomed like a great dusky shadow in the starlit night; and at a small -upper window, almost on a direct line with his, a yellow light glowed. - -Feeling through the dark, Barry removed the sterilized gauze from the -carton, snipped off a ten-inch length, and returned the gauze and box to -his pocket. Then he stretched his length on the narrow iron bed, his face -to the window, his door ajar. - -Wide awake, he lay staring into the darkness, his mind alert, sharpened -by expectancy. - - * * * * * - -The moon rose in the southeast, bathing the outdoors in a silvery -sheen and mitigating, somewhat, the darkness of his room. The minutes -lengthened into hours; and as the hours dragged slowly by Barry fought -off the desire to sleep. - -The fight became increasingly difficult; and finally—he judged it was -long past midnight—it seemed as though he could no longer force himself -to stay awake. His eyelids drooped. He dozed.... - -And then, all at once, he was wide awake again, his pulse tingling. -Somebody had entered his room and was standing now at the table, between -the bed and window, so near that Barry could have touched him by reaching -forth his hand. - -Barry, however, remained motionless, simulating sleep; and beneath -lowered lids he watched the intruder—a blurred gray figure—take up the -pencil and start writing on the pad of paper. The moon had climbed to the -zenith, and by its pale reflection Barry distinguished the salient marks -of his visitor; the long gray robe, the flowing white hair and beard, the -white skullcap. - -Then the figure put down the pencil and vanished—gliding to the hall as -swiftly and noiselessly, it seemed, as a shadow leaving the room. - -Still Barry did not move. Silence ensued. Then, from some point down the -hall, came a woman’s piercing scream. - -Barry rose, wrapped the lead pencil in the strip of gauze, and enclosed -it in the cardboard box and replaced the box in his pocket. - -Then, wearing coat and trousers, he stepped into the hall and lit a gas -jet there—just as the new cook, screaming with terror, emerged from her -room. Hysterical with fright, she frantically flourished a scrap of -wrapping paper. And when she could speak coherently: - -“I just seen a spook in my room—an old man wid white whiskers. I won’t -stay in this house! He writ somethin’ here—” - -She broke off to examine the bit of paper by the fluttering gas flame; -and when she saw the words written on her paper she uttered another -terrified shriek and, heedless of her scant attire, fled toward the -front staircase. She was met at the head of the stairs by Mr. and Mrs. -Peyton—he in pajamas and bathrobe, she in a peignoir, and both visibly -alarmed—and to them she told, or tried to tell, the reason for her mad -flight. - -“Now lemme get outa here!” she ended, attempting to brush past them. “He -told me to leave tonight—and _I’m goin’_!” - -Barry, following sleepily in her wake, rubbing his eyes as one newly -awakened from slumber, heard Peyton saying: “This is dreadful, dreadful!” -and Mrs. Peyton entreating the cook to “stay at least till morning.” - -Unable to persuade the cook to remain, Mrs. Peyton turned appealingly to -Barry. “Did you see anything in your room, Field?” - -“No, mem,” said Barry, hiding a yawn. “I was fast asleep when she woke me -up, mem.” - -This, however, exerted no influence on the cook. Like Clara who went -before her, she departed immediately for the railroad station, there to -pass the rest of the night. - -Peace at last returned to the house—and Barry returned to his room, -locked the door and observed on his pad the same angular scrawl, “_Leave -this house tonight!_” which had frightened her away. Then he went to bed -and slept soundly until after sunrise. - -He was up and dressed at seven o’clock; and when the Peytons came -downstairs about eight he had an appetizing breakfast awaiting them. As -soon as her husband had left for his office, Mrs. Peyton, returning from -the front door, looked at the detective with anxious inquiry in her large -brown eyes. - -“Have you discovered anything at all, Mr. Barry?” - -Barry took a crumpled napkin from the breakfast table and folded it -thoughtfully between his long fingers. He was thinking: “Yes, Mrs. -Peyton; I’ve discovered the identity of your ‘ghost,’ and you alone have -the power to ‘kill’ it.” Aloud, however: - -“I’ll make a report today,” he promised, and left the room with a stack -of dishes and the folded napkin. - -He deposited the dishes in the kitchen sink. The napkin went into his hip -pocket. Then he started upstairs for his other clothes. At her bedroom -door he paused, listening. The door stood open. Mrs. Peyton, downstairs, -was sitting at the breakfast table, absently crumbling a bit of toast in -her fingers, a faraway look in her eyes. Barry, at her bedroom door, was -remarking the small mahogany desk, where, two nights ago, the “ghost” had -written his warning to her. - -In three swift strides he crossed to the desk, searched hurriedly among -the papers there and neatly pocketed one of these. Then he continued -to his room. Mrs. Peyton still sat at the breakfast table in a pensive -reverie, her wistful brown gaze lost in the morning sunshine beyond the -leaded casements. - - * * * * * - -An hour later Barry alighted from a train in Chicago and forthwith called -on a colleague, whose skill in analyzing handwriting and identifying -finger prints had earned him the title of “expert.” He spent considerable -time with this man; and then he went to his office and wrote his report -for Mrs. Peyton. - -And when the report was finished he sat gazing at it musingly—somewhat as -Mrs. Peyton had gazed from her breakfast-room window this morning. - -With an energetic shrug, as if to shake off his odd mood, he sealed the -report in an envelope, and put it in his pocket and started for an office -building in lower Michigan Avenue. - -Presently he entered a room in this building, luxuriously furnished and -unoccupied, and abruptly halted. In the adjoining room he could hear -the voices of Scott Peyton and his wife; and since the door between the -two offices stood partly open, he could also see their faces. Himself -unobserved, Barry stood silently watching and listening. - -“I suppose you’re right, Scott,” she said, standing beside her husband’s -desk and looking down at him. “After what happened last night, I’m just -about ready to do as you say—give the house up and move back to town. But -I do so hate to leave that old place. I wish—” - -“Why should you?” he interrupted, scowling at his desk and avoiding her -eyes. - -Mrs. Peyton looked down, biting a corner of her lip and twisting the -wedding ring of her finger. - -“It’s not so much what _I_ want,” she faltered, her voice tremulously -low, “but—the city is no place—not the _best_ place for our—_Oh, Scott!_” -she cried passionately, and flung out her hands to him in appeal. “Can’t -you _see_?” - -Scott Peyton looked up and met his wife’s eyes; and the thing he saw in -their liquid brown depths instantly chased the frown from his face and -took him to his feet in a swift rush of remorse and gladness. - -In the next instant she was sobbing in his arms; and he was tenderly -patting her shoulders and saying soothingly: - -“It’s all right, honey. We won’t give the place up. I don’t think—the -ghost—will bother us again....” - -At this juncture Barry quietly departed. - - * * * * * - -A little later he again sat at his desk, gazing again at the report he -had written. And he now knew that this report would never be seen by any -eye save his. - -But while he is sitting here suppose we look over his shoulder and glance -at the thing before he tears it up: - - “In Re Peyton ‘ghost’: ... Using a King Lear costume, which he - put on and off with lightning agility, the ‘ghost’ hoped, by - his nocturnal prowling, to frighten Mrs. Peyton into abandoning - the house as her husband desired.... Following his nightly - appearances, he quickly removed and concealed his costume, and - returned to his bed, careful to make no sound. He varied this - procedure, however, night before last, when he visited Mrs. - Peyton’s room. Had she left her key in the lock that night, - instead of hiding it under her pillow, he would have been - unable to call upon her. As it was, he readily unlocked the - door and entered. Leaving silently, he hid his costume, then - left the house and returned, making considerable noise.... The - finger prints he left in glue last night and those he left on - his napkin this morning, as well as his real and disguised - handwriting positively identify the ‘ghost’ as Mrs. Peyton’s - husband, Scott Peyton.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -_Have You Been Reading About King Tut? If so, You’ll be Interested in_ - -OSIRIS - -_The Weird Tale of an Egyptian Mummy_ - -_By_ ADAM HULL SHIRK - - “_Mandrake_” - - _By ADAM HULL SHIRK_ - - _Will appear in the July WEIRD TALES_ - - _It’s a Strange Yarn of Superstitious Fear_ - - _Don’t Miss It!_ - - -The recent and lamentable death of Sir Richard Parmenter, F. R. G. S., -is too fresh in the public’s mind to warrant further reference, and were -it not that I feel myself capable of throwing light upon the incidents -contributing to the sudden and apparently unnecessary snuffing out of a -valuable life, I should refrain from again alluding to it. - -It is well known that the physicians at the time decided that valvular -weakness of the heart must have been responsible for the death of the -noted Egyptologist, but the statement of his own doctor that Sir Richard -had never theretofore exhibited indications of such weakness, and that he -was, to all appearances, in the best of health just prior to his death, -caused considerable wonder. - -I had thought to let the facts remain buried, but, for certain reasons, I -shall reconsider my determination and tell what I know. - -I shall always remember the night on which Sir Richard summoned me, as -his counselor, to attend him at his apartments in the Albermarle. It -was a night of storm, and the London streets were a mass of slime and -slush. A beastly wind had sprung up, and as I left my chambers at the -Temple it almost took me off my feet. Therefore, it was with no little -satisfaction that I found a cheery log fire awaiting me in the library of -my distinguished client’s home, and the nip of brandy he provided was a -life saver. - -I noted, however, that for all his assumption of cheerfulness, something -was preying upon his mind, and I determined to get at the root of the -matter without delay: - -“How can I serve you, Sir Richard?” I asked, briskly. “I see there is -something troubling you.” - -“Is it as apparent as that?” he asked, trying to appear unconcerned: but -his strong, homely features belied his effort at calmness. - -Before I could reply, he went on: - -“But never mind that: I want you to write my will—now.” - -“Your will?” My expression of surprise and incredulity was natural, -for since I had been retained by him I had marked it as one of his few -idiosyncrasies that he had never made his will. When I had mentioned -to him the advisability of doing so, he had put it by with a whimsical -remark about being superstitious. - -“I am in earnest,” he declared, “and it will be very simple—just a brief -form, and I’ll sign it with my man as witness.” - -“But why the haste?” I said. “Why not wait till I can have the document -properly drawn up at my office tomorrow—” - -“No; now!” he said, and there was such finality in his tone I had no -choice. - -My concern for my client, whom I really liked and respected immensely, -prompted me to ask: - -“You’re not ill, Sir Richard?” - -He shook his head, with the ghost of a smile on his rugged face. - -“Physically—no. But—” - -He paused, and after a moment he again urged me to proceed with the -making of the will. - -I drew up the document, which was a simple one, leaving the bulk of his -large properties to his sister in Surrey, with numerous small bequests -to friends and distant relatives, and a handsome sum and his private -collection to the British Museum and the Imperial Museum of Egyptology. -We had in his man, and the document was duly signed, after which he drew -a long breath of relief and, with a return of something like his natural -manner, passed me his cigar-case and leaned back in his chair, smoking -comfortably. - -“I’ve a story to tell you, Madden,” he said between puffs, “and it’s a -queer yarn, too. You’ll think—but never mind. Listen first, and say what -you like afterward. Only—” he glanced about him with an apprehensive -expression that fairly set my nerves atingle. “I hope we have time.” - -“Time for what?” I asked. - -He relaxed again and smiled: - -“It’s all right,” he declared. “I’m a bit nervous, I guess, but it’s all -right. Have another brandy.” - -We drank solemnly together. Then he settled back once more and I prepared -to listen. - -“Madden,” said he, “perhaps you’ll smile at what has seemed to me serious -enough to warrant the steps I have just taken—making my will, I mean—but, -however you look at it, I want you to know it’s true—every word of it. - -“My last trip to Egypt—from which I just returned a fortnight ago—was -to have been my final one, anyway. I’ve made six trips out there in my -life, and I’ve collected enough information to fill a dozen volumes. -Also, I’ve contributed many fine specimens to the museum and corrected -many misapprehensions concerning the interpretation of some of the -hieroglyphs. So, all in all, I think I’ve done pretty well. - -“This last visit was in many respects the most satisfactory, and indeed -it witnessed a triumph in my career as an Egyptologist that would be a -crowning achievement, were it not for—but we won’t speak of that—yet. - -“I wonder, Madden, if you know anything about the ancient Egyptian -religious ceremonies and forms of worship? Anyway, I may tell you that -the Nile dwellers, as they were called, recognized as their supreme -deity, Osiris, lord of the underworld. By some he has been identified -with the Sun and, with the forty assessors of the dead, he was supposed -to have judged the souls brought before him by Horus in the double halls -of truth, after their good and evil deeds had been weighed by Anubis. - -“The Egyptians reverenced Osiris with as devout worship as the Chinese -give to Buddha, and the high priests of Osiris were regarded with almost -as much awe as the deity himself. - -“In all our studies and investigations, however, we have never been able -actually to identify Osiris, but it is now generally conceded that he was -believed to have lived on earth at one time and that it was only after -his death that he assumed deific prerogatives. In this respect the modern -Christian theology may be said to resemble the more ancient form to some -extent. - -“Osiris was pictured on many of the tablets as a creature with the head -of a bull, though there is some disagreement on this score. In any event, -his tomb was said to exist near Heliopolis, and it was to investigate -this tradition that I made my last trip to Egypt.” - -Sir Richard paused to relight his cigar and listened to the storm which -raged without. Again he gave that hasty, apprehensive glance about him, -then proceeded: - -“It would be impossible for me to explain to you, a layman, my -inordinate joy at finding—by what means and after what tedious labor, -I won’t stop to tell now—a deserted tomb which I knew, from certain -hieroglyphic markings I found, was the very one of which I had been in -search for the best part of half a year. - -“Understand that this whole tradition of the tomb of Osiris was regarded -by my fellow scientists as a myth, and if it had been publicly known that -I was giving it sufficient credence to spend a lot of time and money -searching for it I should have been looked upon as a madman and laughed -out of the societies. This may enable you to appreciate more fully my -sensations on actually locating at least the tomb. What I should find -within, I hardly dared conjecture! - -“The tomb of a God! Can you imagine it, Madden? - -“And yet, if I had only stopped there! If only I had been content to -pause with the knowledge I already possessed, without proceeding further -and desecrating with sacrilegious hands that lonely sarcophagus in the -desert! - -“How I succeeded in penetrating this tomb, of the horrors of bats and -crawling things that failed to stop me—of the almost supernatural awe -that came upon me—I can not pause to tell. It is enough to say that I -stood at last beside the tremendous coffin of stone, trembling from an -unknown dread. And, as I stood there, something white fluttered by me and -up through the opening into the outer air. A sacred Ibis—but how it had -penetrated there and how it had lived, I can not say. - -“Pour out another brandy, Madden—and throw that other log on the fire, -too, if you don’t mind. My, how the wind blows! Did you speak?... Pardon -me—I’m nervous tonight as I said before, very nervous.... Where was I? -Oh, yes— - -“That great sarcophagus stood before me, and on it I saw inscribed the -sacred scarabæus and the feather of truth, while in the center was the -word—the one, wonderful name—‘Heseri’—which is the Egyptian for Osiris! - -“Insatiable curiosity now took the place of the reverential awe that -should have possessed me, and with vandal hands I forced the stone lid -from the casket. One glance I had of a great, bovine face, a _living_ -face, whose eyes looked into the depths of my soul—and then I fled as -though all the devils of Amenti were at my heels.... - -“That is all Madden, except that I am nervous—fearfully so. It is so -unlike me. You know how small a part fear has played in my life. I have -faced the dreaded simoon; I have been lost among savage tribes, I have -confronted death in a hundred forms—but _never_ have I felt as I do now. -I tremble at a sound; my ears trick me into believing that I am always -hearing some unusual noise; my appetite is failing, and I am feeling my -age as I have never felt it until.... Good God! Madden! What was that -sound?... Oh! _look behind you_, Madden! _Look!_...” - - * * * * * - -And now I come to that portion of my statement that will probably be -refused credence by those who read; but, as I live, it is the truth. - -As Sir Richard uttered his last words, he felt forward to his full length -upon the hearth rug, even as I turned in obedience to his command. The -shadows were heavy in the far corner of the spacious room, but I could -see a great, bulky something that swayed there, something that was a -part, and yet, seemingly, was independent, of the shadows. - -I had a vision of two burning eyes and a black shining muzzle—a heavy, -misshapen head. A strange, animal-like, fetid odor was in my nostrils. - -I shrieked, and, turning, ran madly from the room, stumbled to the stairs -and fled into the wind-swept night. - - - - -Failure to Keep Tab on Quitting Time Kills Two - - -Troy Hocker and Hugh Simpson, linemen for the Oklahoma Gas and Electric -Company, were repairing wires on top of a pole in Oklahoma one afternoon -recently. As they worked, they engaged in banter. It was nearly five -o’clock—their quitting time—but neither looked at his watch. The engineer -down at the power house saw it was ten minutes past five, time to turn -on the city’s arc lights. He pulled down the switch and sent 2,300 -volts out to light the city. The men up on the pole ceased their banter. -Their bodies became stiff. Those on the ground laughed. This must be -some new prank of the boys. Then someone noticed smoke issuing from -Hocker’s shoes. Back at the power plant the amperage was fluctuating back -and forth, and the engineer knew something was amiss. He threw off the -current—but the men were already dead. - - - - -_A New Story by Julian Kilman, Master of Weird Fiction_ - -THE WELL - - -Jeremiah Hubbard toiled with a team of horses in a piece of ground some -distance down the road from his dwelling. When it neared five o’clock in -the autumn afternoon, he unwound the lines from his waist, unhooked the -traces and started home with his horses. - -He was a heavy man, a bit under middle age, with a dish-shaped face and -narrow-set eyes. He walked with vigor. One of the horses lagged a trifle, -and he struck it savagely with a short whip. - -They came presently to the Eldridge dwelling, abandoned and tumbled down, -on the opposite side of the road. The farm was being worked on shares by -a man named Simpson, who lived five miles away and drove a “tin Lizzie.” -An ancient oak tree, the tremendous circumference of its trunk marred by -signs of decay, reared splendid gnarled branches skyward. - -These branches shaded a disused well—a well that had been the first -one in Nicholas County, having been dug in the early fifties by the -pioneering Eldridge family. It went forty feet straight down into the -residual soil characteristic of the _locale_, but, owing to improved -drainage, it had become dry. Nothing remained of the old pump-house, save -the crumbling circle of stonework around the mouth, to give evidence of -its one-time majesty. - -A child of eight ran from the rear of the premises. Hubbard frowned and -stopped his team. - -“You better keep away from there,” he growled, “or you’ll fall into the -well.” - -The girl glanced at him impishly. - -“You an’ Missus Hubbard don’t speak to each other, do you?” - -Hubbard’s face went black. His whip sprang out and caught the girl about -the legs. She yelped and ran. - -An eighth of a mile farther along the road Hubbard turned in and drove -his team to a big barn. He fed his stock. It was after six when he -entered the house. This was a structure that, by comparison with the -gigantic barn in the rear, seemed pigmy-like. - -A sallow, flat-chested woman, with a wisp of hair twisted into a knot, -took from Hubbard the two pails of milk he carried. She set them in the -kitchen. The two exchanged no words. - -Hubbard strode to the washstand, his boots thumping the floor, and -performed his ablutions. He rumpled his hair and beard, using much soap -and water and blowing stertorously. In the dining-room a girl of twelve -sat with a book. As her father came in she glanced at him timorously. - -He gave no heed to her as he slumped down into a chair standing before -a desk. The desk was littered with papers, among which were typewritten -sheets of the sort referred to as “pleadings”; there was a title-search -much bethumbed and black along the edges, where the “set-outs” had been -scanned with obvious care. - -The man adjusted a pair of antiquated spectacles to his dish-face. To do -this he was compelled to pull the ends of the bows tight back over the -ears as his nose afforded practically no bridge to support the glasses. - -Presently he spoke to the girl: - -“Tell your mother to bring on the supper.” - -The girl hastened out, and shortly thereafter the mother appeared -carrying dishes. Food was disposed about the table in silence. The farmer -ate gustily and in ten minutes finished his meal. Then he addressed his -daughter, keeping his eyes averted from his wife. “Tell your mother,” he -said, “that I’ll want breakfast at five o’clock tomorrow morning.” - -“Where you goin’, Pa?” asked the girl. - -“I’m goin’ to drive to the county seat to see Lawyer Simmons.” - -Hubbard’s gaze followed the girl as she helped clear the table. - -“Look-a here,” he said. “You been a-talkin’ to that Harper child?” - -“No,” returned the daughter, with a trace of spirit. “But I jest saw her -father over by the fence.” - -“What was he a-doin’ there?” - -“I didn’t stay. I was afeard he’d catch me watchin’ him.” - -Hubbard glowered and reached for his hat. - -“I’ll find out,” he snarled. - -Walking rapidly, he crossed a field of wheat stubble, keeping his -eyes fixed sharply ahead. It was dusk, but presently, at the northern -extremity of his premises, he made out the figure of a man. - -“Hey, Harper!” he shouted. “You let that fence be.” - -He ran forward swiftly. - -The men were now separated by two wire-strand fences that paralleled -each other only three feet apart. These fences, matching one another for -a distance of about two hundred yards—each farmer claiming title to the -fence on the side farthest from his own—represented the basis of the -litigation over the boundary claim that had gone on between them for four -years. - -The odd spectacle of the twin fences had come to be one of the show -places in the county. It had been photographed and shown in agricultural -journals. - -“I don’t trust ye, Harper,” announced Hubbard, breathing hard. “You got -the inside track with Jedge Bissell, an’ the two of you are a-schemin’ to -beat me.” - -A laugh broke from the other. - -“I’ll beat you, all right,” he said coolly. “But it won’t be because -Judge Bissell is unfair.” - -His manner enraged Hubbard, who rushed swiftly at the first fence and -threw himself over. With equal celerity, he clambered over the second -fence. - -Startled at the sudden outburst of temper, Harper had drawn back. He held -aloft a spade. Hubbard leaped at him. The spade descended. - -Harper was slightly-built, however, and the force of the blow did not -halt the infuriated man, now swinging at him with all his might. They -clinched. Hubbard’s fingers caught at the throat of the smaller man, and -the two stumbled to the ground, Hubbard atop. The fall broke his grip. -With his huge fists he began to hammer the body. He continued until it -was limp. - -Then, his rage suddenly appeased, he drew back and stared at the inert -figure lying strangely quiet. - -“So!” he gasped. - -There came the sound of someone singing, the voice floating distinctly -through the night air. Hubbard recognized it for that of an itinerant -Free Methodist minister, whose church in Ovid he and his family -occasionally attended. - -The song rolling forth, as the Man of God drove along the highway in his -rig, was _Jesus, Lover of My Soul_. - - * * * * * - -For the moment Hubbard shielded his face with an arm as if to ward off an -invisible thing. - -Then, bending over the prostrate form, he ran his hand inside the -clothing to test the action of the heart. He performed the act -mechanically, because he knew he had killed his man. - -He discovered the handbag. Evidently Harper was on his way to Ovid to -catch the train to the county seat for the trial on the morrow. This -meant that he would not be missed by his wife for at least twenty-four -hours. - -The murderer studied his next move. Where to secrete the body? A piece of -wood lay back of him, but he was aware that it was constantly combed by -squirrel hunters. He thought of the railroad. Why not an accident? Killed -by the very train he was bound for? - -He started to lug the body toward the track which passed half a mile to -the north. Realizing, however, that for the time at hand the distance was -too great, he let the body slide to the ground. Next he stole along the -twin fences to the highway and peered both ways. No one seemed abroad. - -He came back on the dead run, and in twenty minutes he had carried the -body to the Eldridge premises and flung it down the ancient well. - -When he returned he found his wife and daughter together in the parlor, -where with the itinerant preacher, all three were kneeling on the floor -in prayer. Hubbard unceremoniously nudged the clergymen. - -“That’ll do,” he said. - -The minister rose, his tall, lanky figure towering over Hubbard. - -“Brother,” he began, in an orotund voice, “come with the Lord—” - -“Yes. I know,” returned Hubbard, with a patience that surprised his wife. -“But I’ve got something to talk over with my family.” He paused. “Here,” -he added, feeling in his pocket and producing a small coin, “take this -and go along.” - -When the preacher had left, Hubbard called to his daughter. - -“Harper was gone when I got over to the fence.” - -“What kept you so long?” - -“I walked over to the woods. There’s a nest of coons. They’re a-goin’ to -play havoc with the corn.” He smiled unnaturally. “Look-a here! If we -can catch ’em, I’ll give you the money their pelts bring.” - -Hubbard divined that his acting was poor. Both the girl and his wife were -frankly regarding him. - -“Well!” he shouted. “What’s the matter with ye?” - -“Oh, nuthin’, Pa, nuthin’,” whimpered the girl. - -“Then go to bed, the two of ye.” - -Next morning Hubbard started for the county seat, a ten mile drive. He -returned that evening and complained that the case had been adjourned -because Harper had failed to appear in court. - -The following day he went back to his field far down the road for more -ploughing. Twice he was called to the roadside by passersby to discuss -the disappearance of Harper. - -One morning a week later, when he came along the road with his team, he -discovered the Harper child on the Eldridge premises. She was sitting at -the edge of the well. - -With a suppressed oath, he dropped the lines and half-walked, half-ran, -to where the little girl sat. - -“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from there!” he exploded. - -The girl stared at him, but made no move, though her lips quivered. -Hubbard glanced back to observe the road. Then he caught her arm. - -“Go home!” he shouted. - -He spun her roughly. She continued to stare at him as she retreated -homeward. - -All that morning Hubbard worked his horses hard. He realized that he was -eager to go back by the Eldridge dwelling. Promptly at twelve o’clock, -therefore, he tied his team and started up the road. A flash of relief -came to him when he did not observe the little girl. It left him cold, -however. - -“Eatin’ dinner,” he mumbled. - -He moved off, without looking into the well. Until four o’clock that -afternoon he labored. On his way home he discovered the girl again seated -by the well. She was bending over and acting queerly. - -Hurrying his horses to the roadside, he looped the lines over one of the -posts in the old “snake” fence. As he approached, he saw her toss a piece -of stone down the hole. - -Hubbard waited until he was sure of his voice. - -“Come with me,” he said. - -Gripping the girl he started with her toward her home but a short -distance away. When they arrived the front door was ajar. A woman, with -eyes red from weeping, looked at Hubbard in silence. - -“Here!” he said gruffly. “This child ought to be kept to home. She’ll -fall into the well.” - -Mrs. Harper merely reached out her arms for her daughter. Hubbard -remained standing awkwardly. - -“Have you heard anything of Harper yet?” he asked. - -“I don’t want to talk to you,” replied the woman. - -Hubbard turned on his heel. Waiting for him by his horses, was the deputy -sheriff. The two further discussed the disappearance. - -“If you yourself wasn’t so well known, Jeremiah,” finally declared the -official, “they’d sure be thinkin’ you was in it some way.” - -“Why?” grunted the farmer, as he untied the lines. - -“Well, everybody knows you an’ Harper been lawin’ it for years over that -boundary line.” - -Hubbard achieved a laugh. - -“I’ll tell ye where Harper is. He’s cleared out, that’s what I -think—deserted his family.” - -That night, and many following nights, Hubbard did not sleep. Some weeks -later a tremendous electric storm broke in the night. One particularly -heavy clap so startled the wakeful Hubbard that he leaped from his bed -and dressed. In the pouring rain he started out. - -Inevitably his steps took him toward the well. It was black, and he could -not see at first. But another flash came, and he observed a strange thing: - -The huge oak, standing at the side of the well, had been split in two by -lightning, and one portion of the tree had fallen over the mouth of the -hole. - - * * * * * - -Next morning Simpson, the man with the “tin Lizzie,” stopped at Hubbard’s -place. He was a blunt-spoken, red-faced man whom Hubbard hated. - -“That was a bad storm last night,” he said. “The lightning struck the big -oak tree by the well.” - -“What of it?” snapped Hubbard. - -“There was a skeleton in the center of that tree,” explained Simpson. “I -was talking this morning with the sheriff over the telephone. He said -seventy-five years ago a man was murdered in Ovid, and they never found -his body. This skeleton must be his.” - -Hubbard cleared his throat sharply. - -“What did you do with it?” - -“The skull and one of the leg bones fell down into the well when I tried -to gather them up. I want to borrow some rope so I can get down in there.” - -For a bare second Hubbard was silent. - -“What you ought to do,” he said, gathering himself, “is to fill up that -hole. It’s dangerous.” - -“Yes. That’s so. But I’m goin’ to get that skull first. It’ll be a good -exhibit. I’m wonderin’ whether we’ll ever find Harper’s skeleton.” - -“Wait a moment,” said Hubbard huskily, starting for the barn. “I’ll get -some rope and help you.” - -The two returned to the Eldridge farm. They found there the dead man’s -child. She had perched herself on the fallen tree. - -“Damn fool!” muttered Hubbard. “Her mother lettin’ her play around here!” - -A pulley was rigged over the branch and the rope inserted with a board -for a rest. - -“I’ll go down,” vouchsafed Hubbard. - -Simpson looked his surprise as he assented. - -It took Hubbard five minutes or so to retrieve the missing skeleton -parts. He brought them up, the leg bone and the grinning skull. He was -pale when he hauled himself over the edge. - -“I’m a-goin’ to fill up that hole myself,” he said. - -“All right,” retorted Simpson, handling the skull curiously. “Go to it.” - -Word traveled of the finding of the ancient skeleton, and the inhabitants -began driving thither to see the sight. Simpson, a man of some ingenuity, -had wired the bleached white bones together and suspended them from one -of the branches of the fallen tree. The skeleton dangled and swung in the -wind. - -Hubbard, maddened by the delay and publicity, felt himself wearing away. -He had become obsessed with conviction that if the hole were filled his -mind would be at rest. - -The nights of continued sleeplessness were ragging his nerves, and he was -by this time unable to remain in bed. He would throw himself down, fully -dressed, waiting until the others were asleep. Then he would steal out. - -At first he had merely walked the roads, swinging his arms and mumbling. -But as the night progressed his stride would quicken, and frequently he -would take to running. He would run until his lungs were bursting and -a slaver fed from his mouth. Late travelers began to catch glimpses of -the fleeting figure, and the rumor grew that a ghost was haunting the -locality of the well—that the skeleton walked. - -Hubbard grew haggard. But he found himself unable to discontinue his -nocturnal prowls, some of which took him miles, but all of which -invariably wound up at one place—the well. - -Here, fagged and exhausted, he would sit until the approach of dawn, -staring at the swinging skeleton, mouthing incoherencies, praying, -singing hymns beneath his breath, laughing. At the approach of dawn he -would steal home. - -At last, after interest in the skeleton had subsided and Simpson had -consented to its removal, Hubbard loaded his wagon with stones and small -boulders and started for the well. That first forenoon he made three -trips, dumping each time a considerable quantity of stones. - -Next morning he worked in an additional trip. He began to experience -surcease. But on the afternoon of the second day, when he made another -trip, Simpson came over from his work in an adjoining field. - -“I wanted to see you yesterday,” he said, quizzically regarding Hubbard. -“Mrs. Harper was here. She said her little girl was playin’ around here -and dropped a pair of andirons down the well.” - -“What of it?” Hubbard jerked out. - -“You got to get ’em out.” - -“Why?” - -“Because them andirons is relics.” - -“But you gave me permission to fill the hole.” - -“I was kiddin’ you,” laughed Simpson. “I’m only rentin’ the farm. I ain’t -got nothin’ to do with the house and yard.” - -Without a word Hubbard turned to his wagon. He got onto the seat and -drove off. In an hour he came back with the same rope that had been used -to recover the missing portions of the skeleton. Also, he brought with -him a farm laborer who did occasional work for him. - -Simpson regarded Hubbard amusedly as the latter adjusted once more the -pulley, arranged a bucket and then hitched his team to the end of the -rope. - -Patiently, bucketful by bucketful, the stones were elevated and dumped. -Down below in the black interior, Hubbard labored for an hour. At six -o’clock he had not found the andirons. Twice he had been compelled to -come up for fresh air. - -His last trip up left him so white-faced and weak that he was forced to -go home. - -That night he resorted to sleeping powders. But he lay and tossed, -wide-eyed, through the dark hours. Sometime after midnight he got up. -A light was still burning in his wife’s room, and, tiptoeing down the -hall, he paused at her door. In low voices the mother and daughter were -conversing. To his heated imagination it seemed certain they were talking -of Harper’s disappearance. - -Mumbling to himself he left the house. He ran down the lane to the -highway and along this until he came to the Eldridge place. He determined -not to stop, and succeeded in running by, like a frightened animal. - -His gait accelerated. It was one best described as scurrying, as he ran -crouched and low. He thought he saw some one approaching. This turned -him. Back he fled with the speed of the wind. - -Drawn by an irresistible force, he made straight for the Eldridge -pathway. He came to the well, the entrance of which gaped at him. For a -moment he stood, with eyes wide open, staring into the black depths. - -Then, screaming, he plunged in head-first. - -His cry, long-drawn and eerie, hung quivering on the night air. - -In the Hubbard home, a quarter of a mile away, the mother and daughter -heard it. The two listened with palpitating hearts. They caught one -another’s hands. - -In a hoarse whisper the mother exclaimed: - -“_What’s that?_” - -[Illustration] - - - - -_Otis Adelbert Kline, Author of “The Thing of a Thousand Shapes,” Spins -Another “Spooky” Yarn for the Readers of WEIRD TALES_ - -The Phantom Wolfhound - - -Doctor Dorp reluctantly laid aside the manuscript on which he had been -working, capped and pocketed his fountain pen, and rose to meet his -callers. - -He was visibly annoyed by this, the third interruption of the afternoon, -but his look of irritation changed to a welcoming smile when he saw the -bulky form that was framed in the doorway. He recognized Harry Hoyne of -the Hoyne Detective Agency, a heavy-set, florid-faced man whose iron gray -hair and moustache proclaimed him well past middle age. - -[Illustration] - -The slender, stoop-shouldered individual who accompanied him was a total -stranger. He had pale, hawklike features, small snaky eyes that glittered -oddly from cavernous sockets, and long, bony fingers that suggested the -claws of a bird. - -“Hello, Doc,” boomed the detective genially, crushing the hand of his -host in his great, muscular paw. “Meet Mr. Ritsky.” - -The doctor was conscious of a cold, clammy sensation as he took the -hand of the stranger and acknowledged the introduction. Was it the -contrast between those chill fingers and the strong warm ones of the -detective that had caused this feeling? He did not know; but somehow, -instinctively, he disliked Mr. Ritsky. - -“I’ve got a queer case for you, Doc,” said Hoyne, taking a proffered -cigar and inserting it far back in his cheek, unlighted. “Just your -specialty—ghosts and all that. I told Mr. Ritsky you’d be the only man -to unravel the mystery for him. Was over to his house last night and the -thing got me—too unsubstantial—too damned elusively unreal. And yet I’ll -swear there was something there. I heard it; but it got away and didn’t -leave a trace. When it comes to finger prints and things like that you -know I ain’t exactly a dumb-bell, but I gotta admit this thing, whatever -it is, had me hopelessly horn-swoggled.” - -Ritsky declined a cigar, saying he didn’t dare smoke because of heart -trouble. The doctor selected one with care, lighted it slowly, puffed it -with a relish, and settled back with a look of eager anticipation in his -eyes. - -“What happened last night?” he asked. - -“Maybe we better begin at the beginning,” said Hoyne. “You see, there’s -quite a story goes along with this case, and Mr. Ritsky can tell it -better than I. Don’t be afraid to give him all the dope, Mr. Ritsky. The -doctor knows all about such things—wrote a book about ’em, in fact. Let’s -see. What was the name of that book, Doc?” - -“‘Investigations of Materialization Phenomena.’” - -“Righto! I never can remember it. Anyhow, Mr. Ritsky, tell him your story -and ask him all the questions you want to. He’s headquarters on this -stuff.” - -Ritsky studied his clawlike hands for a moment, clasping and unclasping -the bony fingers. Suddenly he looked up. - -“Do animals have immortal souls?” he asked, anxiously. - -“I’m afraid you have sadly overrated my ability as a recorder of -scientific facts,” replied the doctor, smiling slightly. “Frankly, I do -not know. I don’t believe anyone knows. Most people think they haven’t, -and I incline toward that belief.” - -“Then such a thing as a ghost of a—a hound could not be?” - -“I would not say that. Nothing is impossible. There are undoubtedly more -things in heaven and earth, as Shakespeare said, than we have dreamed of -in our philosophy. However, I would consider a materialization of the -disembodied spirit of a canine, or any of the other lower animals, as -highly improbable.” - -“But if you saw one with your own eyes—” - -“I should probably be inclined to doubt the evidence of my senses. Have -_you_ seen one?” - -“Have I _seen_ one?” groaned Ritsky. “Good Lord, man, I’d give every cent -I own to be rid of that thing! For two years it’s turned my nights into -hell! From a perfectly healthy, normal human being I’ve been reduced to a -physical wreck. Sometimes I think my reason is slipping. The thing will -either kill me or drive me mad if it is not stopped.” - -He buried his face in his hands. - -“This is most strange,” said the doctor. “You say the apparition first -troubled you two years ago?” - -“Not in its present form. But it was there, nevertheless. The first -time I saw it was shortly after I killed that cursed dog. A month, to -be exact. I shot him on the twenty-first of August, and he, or it, or -_something_, came back to haunt me on the twenty-first of September. - -“How vividly I remember the impressions of that first night of terror! -How I tried, the next day, to make myself believe it was only a -dream—that such a thing could not be. I had retired at eleven o’clock, -and was awakened from a sound sleep some time between one and two in the -morning by the whining, yapping cry of a dog. As there were no dogs on -the premises, you can imagine my surprise. - -“I was about to get up when something directly over the foot of my bed -riveted my attention. In the dim light it appeared a grayish white in -color, and closely resembled the head and pendant ears of a hound. I -noticed, with horror, that it was moving slowly toward me, and I was -temporarily paralyzed with fright when it emitted a low, cavernous growl. - -“Driving my muscles by a supreme effort of will, I leaped from the bed -and switched on the light. In the air where I had seen the thing hanging -there was nothing. The door was bolted and the windows were screened. -There was nothing unusual in the room, as I found after a thorough -search. Mystified, I hunted through the entire house from top to bottom, -but without finding a trace of the thing, whatever if was, that had made -the sounds. - -“From that day to this I have never laid my head on a pillow with a -feeling of security. At first it visited me at intervals of about a week. -These intervals were gradually shortened until it came every night. As -its visits became more frequent the apparition seemed to grow. First it -sprouted a small body like that of a terrier, all out of proportion to -the huge head. Each night that body grew a little larger until it assumed -the full proportions of a Russian wolfhound. Recently it has attempted to -attack me, but I have always frustrated it by switching on the light.” - -“Are you positive that you have not been dreaming all this?” asked the -doctor. - -“Would it be possible for some one else to hear a dream of mine?” -countered Ritsky. “We have only been able to retain one servant on -account of those noises. All, with the exception of our housekeeper, who -is quite deaf, heard the noises and left us as a result.” - -“Who are the members of your household?” - -“Other than the housekeeper and myself, there is only my niece and ward, -a girl of twelve.” - -“Has she heard the noises?” - -“She has never mentioned them.” - -“Why not move to another apartment?” - -“That would do no good. We have moved five times in the last two years. -When the thing first started we were living on the estate of my niece -near Lake Forest. We left the place in charge of care-takers and moved to -Evanston. The apparition followed us. We moved to Englewood. The thing -moved with us. We have had three different apartments in Chicago since. -It came to all of them with equal regularity.” - -“Would you mind writing for me the various addresses at which you have -lived?” - -“Not at all, if they will assist in solving this mystery.” - -The doctor procured a pencil and a sheet of note paper, and Ritsky put -down the addresses. - -Doctor Dorp scanned them carefully. - -“Villa Rogers,” he said. “Then your niece is Olga Rogers, daughter of -millionaire James Rogers and his beautiful wife, the former Russian -dancer, both of whom were lost with the _Titanic_?” - -“Olga’s mother was my sister. After the sudden death of her parents, the -court appointed me her guardian and trustee of the estate.” - -“I believe that is all the information we need for the present, Mr. -Ritsky. If you have no objection I will call on you after dinner this -evening, and if Mr. Hoyne cares to accompany me we will see what we can -do toward solving this mystery. Please take care that no one in your home -is apprised of the object of our visit. Say, if you wish, that we are -going to install some electrical equipment.” - -“I’ll be there with bells,” said Hoyne as they rose to go. - - -_II._ - -Shortly after his guests’ departure, Doctor Dorp was speeding out -Sheridan Road toward Villa Rogers. - -The drive took nearly an hour, and he spent another half-hour in -questioning the care-takers, man and wife. He returned home with a -well-filled notebook, and on his arrival he began immediately assembling -paraphernalia for the evening’s work. This consisted of three cameras -with specially constructed shutters, several small electrical mechanisms, -a coil of insulated wire, a flash-gun, and a kit of tools. - -After dinner he picked up Hoyne at his home, and they started for the -“haunted house.” - -“You say you investigated this case last night, Hoyne?” asked the doctor. - -“I tried to, but there was nothing to it, so far as I could see, except -the whining of that dog.” - -“Where were you when you heard the noises?” - -“Ritsky had retired. I slept in a chair in his room. About two o’clock I -was awakened by a whining noise, not loud, yet distinctly audible. Then -I heard a yell from Ritsky. He switched on the light a moment later, -then sat down on the bed, trembling from head to foot, while beads of -perspiration stood out on his forehead. - -“‘Did you see it?’ he asked me. - -“‘See what?’ I said. - -“‘The hound.’ - -“I told him I hadn’t seen a thing, but I heard the noise all right. -Between you and me, though, I did think I saw a white flash for a second -beside his bed, but I can’t swear to it.” - -“We won’t trust our eyes tonight,” said the doctor. “I have three -eyes in that case that will not be affected by hysteria or register -hallucinations.” - -“Three eyes? What are you talking about?” - -“Cameras, of course.” - -“But how—” - -“Wait until we get there. I’ll show you.” - -A few moments later they were admitted to the apartment by the -housekeeper, a stolid woman of sixty or thereabout. Ritsky presented them -to his niece, a dreamy-eyed, delicately pretty school girl with silky -golden curls that glistened against the pale whiteness of her skin. - -“If you don’t mind,” said the doctor, “we will look things over now. -It will take some time to install the wiring and make other necessary -preparations.” - -Ritsky showed them through the apartment, which was roomy, furnished in -good taste and artistically decorated. The floor plan was quite simple -and ordinary. First came the large living-room that extended across the -front of the house. This opened at the right into the dining-room and at -the center into a hallway which led through to the back of the building. -Behind the dining-room was the kitchen, and behind that the servant’s -room. Ritsky’s bedroom was directly across the hall from the dining-room. -Then came his niece’s bedroom, a spare bedroom and a bathroom. Each of -the three front bedrooms was equipped with a private bath and large -clothes-closet. - -The doctor began by installing the three cameras in Ritsky’s room, -fastening them on the wall in such a manner that they faced the bed from -three directions. After focusing them properly, he set the flash-gun on a -collapsible tripod and pointed it toward the bed. - -The room was lighted by an alabaster bowl that depended from the ceiling -and could be turned on or off by a switch at the bedside. There were, in -addition, two wall lights, one on each side of the dresser, and a small -reading lamp on a table in one corner. These last three lights were -operated by individual pull-cords. - -Ritsky procured a step-ladder for him, and, after switching off the -drop light, he removed one of the bulbs from the cluster and inserted a -four-way socket. From this socket he ran wires along the ceiling and -down the wall to the three cameras and the flash-gun. By the time these -preparations were completed Miss Rogers and the housekeeper had retired. - -Hoyne surveyed the finished job with frank admiration. - -“If there’s anything in this room when Ritsky turns the switch those -three mechanical eyes will sure spot it,” he said enthusiastically. - -“Now, Mr. Ritsky,” began the doctor, “I want you to place yourself -entirely in our hands for the night. Keep cool, fear nothing, and carry -out my instructions to the letter. I suggest that you go to bed now and -endeavor to get some sleep. If the apparition troubles you, do just as -you have done in the past—turn on the light. Do not, however, touch -the light switch unless the thing appears. The photographic plates, -when developed, will tell whether you have been suffering from a mere -hallucination induced by auto-suggestion or if genuine materialization -phenomena have occurred.” - -After closing and bolting the windows they placed the step-ladder in the -hallway beside Ritsky’s door. Then they obtained a duplicate key from him -and asked him to lock himself in, removing his key so they might gain -entrance at any time. - -When everything was ready they quietly brought two chairs into the hall -from the spare bedroom and began their silent vigil. - - -_III._ - -Both men sat in silence for nearly three hours. The doctor seemed lost in -thought, and Hoyne nervously masticated his inevitable unlighted cigar. -The house was quiet, except for the ticking of the hall clock and its -hourly chiming announcements of the flight of time. - -Shortly after the clock struck two they heard a low, scarcely audible -moan. - -“What was that?” whispered the detective, hoarsely. - -“Wait!” the doctor replied. - -Presently it was repeated, followed by prolonged sobbing. - -“It’s Miss Rogers,” said Hoyne, excitedly. - -Doctor Dorp rose and softly tiptoed to the door of the child’s bed -chamber. After listening there for a moment he noiselessly opened the -door and entered. Presently he returned, leaving the door ajar. The -sobbing and moaning continued. - -“Just as I expected,” he said. “I want you to go in the child’s room, -keep quiet, and make a mental note of everything you see and hear. Stay -there until I call you, and be prepared for a startling sight.” - -“Wh—what is it?” asked Hoyne, nervously. - -“Nothing that will hurt you. What’s the matter? Are you afraid?” - -“Afraid, hell!” growled Hoyne. “Can’t a man ask you a question—” - -“No time to answer questions now. Get in there and do as I say if you -want to be of any assistance.” - -“All right, Doc. It’s your party.” - -The big detective entered the room of the sobbing child and squeezed his -great bulk into a dainty rocking chair from which he could view her bed. -She tossed from side to side, moaning as if in pain, and Hoyne, pitying -her, wondered why the doctor did not awaken her. - -Presently she ceased her convulsive movements, clenched her hands, and -uttered a low, gurgling cry, as a white, filmy mass slowly emerged -from between her lips. The amazed detective stared with open mouth, so -frightened that he forgot to chew his cigar. The filmy material continued -to pour forth for several minutes that seemed like hours to the tense -watcher. Then it formed a nebulous, wispy cloud above the bed, completely -detached itself from the girl, and floated out through the half-opened -door. - -Doctor Dorp, standing in the hallway, saw a white, misty thing of -indefinite outline emerge from the bedroom. It floated through the -hall and paused directly in front of Ritsky’s door. He approached it -cautiously and noiselessly, and noticed that it grew rapidly smaller. -Then he discovered the reason. It was flowing _through the keyhole_! - -In a short time it had totally disappeared. He waited breathlessly. - -_What was that?_ The whining cry of a hound broke the stillness! He -mounted the step-ladder in order to view the interior of the room through -the glass transom. He had scarcely placed his foot on the second step -when the whining noise changed to a gurgling growl that was followed by a -shriek of mortal terror and the dull report of the flash-gun. - -Leaping down from the ladder, the doctor called Hoyne, and they entered -the “haunted” bed chamber. The room was brilliantly lighted by the -alabaster bowl and filled with the sickening fumes of flash-powder. - -Hoyne opened the windows and returned to where the doctor was -thoughtfully viewing Ritsky, who had apparently fainted. He had fallen -half out of bed, and hung there with one bony arm trailing and his -emaciated face a picture of abject fear. - -“My God!” exclaimed Hoyne. “Look there on his throat and chest. _The -frothy slaver of a hound!_” - -The doctor took a small porcelain dish from his pocket, removed the lid, -and with the blade of his pocket knife, scraped part of the slimy deposit -into the receptacle. - -“Hadn’t we better try to bring him to?” inquired Hoyne. - -After they had lifted him back in bed the doctor leaned over and held his -ear to the breast of the recumbent man. He took his stethoscope from his -case and listened again. Then he straightened gravely. - -“No earthly power can bring him to,” he said, softly, “_Ritsky is dead!_” - - -_IV._ - -The detective remained in the house, pending the arrival of the coroner -and undertaker, while Doctor Dorp hurried home with his paraphernalia and -the sample of slime he had scraped from the corpse. Hoyne was puzzled by -the fact that the doctor searched the house and the clothing of the dead -man before departing. - -The detective was kept busy at the Ritsky apartment until nearly ten -o’clock. After stopping at a restaurant for a bit of breakfast and a cup -of coffee, he went directly to the doctor’s home. - -He found the psychologist in his laboratory, engrossed in a complicated -chemical experiment. He shook a test tube, which he had been heating over -a small alcohol lamp, held it up to the light, stood it in a small rack -in which were a number of others partly filled with liquid, and nodded -cordially to his friend. - -“Morning, Doc.,” greeted Hoyne. “Have you doped out what we are going to -tell the coroner yet?” - -“I knew the direct cause of Ritsky’s death long ago. It was fear. The -indirect cause, the thing that induced the fear, required careful -examination and considerable chemical research.” - -“And it was—” - -“Psychoplasm.” - -“I don’t get you, Doc. What is psychoplasm?” - -“No doubt you have heard of the substance called ectoplasm, regarding -which Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has delivered numerous lectures, or an -identical substance called teleplasm, discovered by Baron Von Schrenck -Notzing while attending materialization seances with the medium known as -Eva. - -“While the baron was observing and photographing this substance in -Europe, my friend and colleague, Professor James Braddock, was conducting -similar investigations in this country. He named the substance -psychoplasm, and I like the name better than either of the other two, as -it is undoubtedly created or generated from invisible particles of matter -through the power of the subjective mind. - -“I have examined and analyzed many samples of this substance in the past. -The plate I now have under the compound microscope, and the different -chemical determinations I have just completed, show conclusively that -this is psychoplasm.” - -“But how—where did it come from?” - -“I learned something of the history of Ritsky and his ward yesterday. Let -me enlighten you on that score first: - -“The man told the truth when he said he was appointed guardian of -his niece, and also when he said that he had shot a dog. The dog, in -question, was a Russian wolfhound, a present sent to the girl by her -parents while they were touring Russia. He was only half grown when he -arrived, and the two soon became boon companions, frolicking and playing -about the grounds together or romping through the big house. - -“Some time after the death of Olga’s parents, Ritsky, then editor of a -radical newspaper in New York, took up his abode at Villa Rogers. The -dog, by that time full grown, took a violent dislike to him and, on one -occasion, bit him quite severely. When he announced his intention of -having the animal shot the girl wept violently and swore that she would -kill herself if Shag, as she had named him, were killed. It seemed that -she regarded him as a token of the love of her parents who had sailed -away, never to return.” - -“_Shag!_ That’s the name!” broke in Hoyne, excitedly. “After that white -thing floated out of the room she made noises like a dog and then -answered them, saying ‘Good old Shag,’ and patting an imaginary head. She -sure gave me the creeps, though, when she let out that growl.” - -“The vengeful Ritsky,” continued the doctor, “was determined that Shag -should die, and found an opportunity to shoot him with a pistol when -the girl was in the house. Shortly after, the faithful creature dragged -himself to the feet of his mistress and died in her arms. He could not -tell her who had taken his life, but she must have known subjectively, -and as a result entertained a hatred for her uncle of which she -objectively knew nothing. - -“Most people have potential mediumistic power. How this power is -developed in certain individuals and remains practically dormant in -others is a question that has never been satisfactorily explained. -I personally believe that it is often developed because of intense -emotional repressions which, unable to find an outlet in a normal -manner through the objective mind, find expression in abnormal psychic -manifestations. - -“This seemed to be the case with Olga Rogers. She developed the power -subjectively without objective knowledge that it existed. One of the -most striking of psychic powers is that of creating or assembling the -substance called psychoplasm, causing it to assume various forms, and to -move as if endowed with a mind of its own. - -“Olga developed this peculiar power to a remarkable degree. Acting under -the direction of her subjective intelligence, the substance assumed the -form of her beloved animal companion and sought revenge on its slayer. We -arrived a day too late to save the object of her unconscious hatred.” - -“Too bad you were not there the night before,” said Hoyne. “The poor -devil would be alive today if you had been on hand with me the first -night to dope the thing out.” - -“We might have saved him for a prison term or the gallows,” replied the -doctor, a bit sardonically. “You haven’t seen this, of course.” - -He took a small silver pencil from the table and handed it to the -detective. - -“What’s that got to do with—” - -“Open it! Unscrew the top. Careful!” - -Hoyne unscrewed it gingerly and saw that the chamber, which was made to -hold extra leads, was filled with a white powder. - -“Arsenic,” said the doctor, briefly. “Did you notice the sickly pallor of -that girl—the dark rings under her eyes? Her loving uncle and guardian -was slowly poisoning her, increasing the doses from time to time. In -another month or six weeks she would have been dead, and Ritsky, her -nearest living relative, would have inherited her immense fortune.” - -“Well I’ll be damned!” exploded Hoyne. - -Doctor Dorp’s laboratory assistant entered and handed a package of prints -to his employer. - -“Here are the proofs of last night’s photographs,” said the doctor. “Care -to see them?” - -Hoyne took them to the window and scrutinized them carefully. - -All showed Ritsky leaning out of bed, his hand on the light switch, his -face contorted in an expression of intense horror—_and, gripping his -throat in its ugly jaws, was the white, misshapen phantasm of a huge -Russian wolfhound_! - - - - -MASTERPIECES OF WEIRD FICTION - -_No. 2—The Murders in the Rue Morgue_ - -_By_ EDGAR ALLAN POE - - What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when - he hid himself among women, although puzzling questions are not - beyond _all_ conjecture.—SIR THOMAS BROWNE, _Urn-Burial_. - - -The mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves, -but little susceptible of analysis. We appreciate them only in their -effects. We know of them, among other things, that they are always to -their possessor, when inordinately possessed, a source of the liveliest -enjoyment. As the strong man exults in his physical ability, delighting -in such exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories the analyst -in that moral activity which _disentangles_. He derives pleasure from -even the most trivial occupations bringing his talents into play. He -is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, of hieroglyphics; exhibiting in his -solutions of each a degree of acumen which appears to the ordinary -apprehension preternatural. His results, brought about by the very soul -and essence of method have, in truth, the whole air of intuition. The -faculty of resolution is possibly much invigorated by mathematical study, -and especially by the highest branch of it which, unjustly, and merely -on account of its retrograde operations, has been called, as if _par -excellence_, analysis. Yet to calculate is not in itself to analyze. A -chess-player, for example, does the one without effort at the other. It -follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental character, -is greatly misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise, but simply -prefacing a somewhat peculiar narrative by observations very much at -random; I will therefore, take occasion to assert that the higher -powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully -tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all the elaborate -frivolity of chess. In this latter, where the pieces have different and -_bizarre_ motions, the various and variable values, what is only complex -is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound. The _attention_ -is here called powerfully into play. If it flag for an instant, an -oversight is committed, resulting in injury or defeat. The possible moves -being not only manifold but involute, the chances of such oversights are -multiplied; and in nine cases out of ten it is the more concentrative -rather than the more acute player who conquers. In draughts, on the -contrary, where the moves are _unique_ and have but little variation, -the probabilities of inadvertence are diminished, and the mere attention -being left comparatively unemployed, what advantages are obtained by -either party are obtained by superior _acumen_. To be less abstract—Let -us suppose a game of draughts where the pieces are reduced to four kings, -and where, of course, no oversight is to be expected. It is obvious that -here the victory can be decided (the players being at all equal) only -by some _recherche_ movement, the result of some strong exertion of -intellect. Deprived of ordinary resources, the analyst throws himself -into the spirit of his opponent, identifies himself therewith, and not -unfrequently sees thus, at a glance, the sole methods (sometimes indeed -absurdly simple ones) by which he may seduce into error or hurry into -miscalculation. - -Whist has long been noted for its influence upon what is termed the -calculating power; and men of the highest order of intellect have -been known to take an apparently unaccountable delight in it, while -eschewing chess as frivolous. Beyond doubt there is nothing of a -similar nature so greatly tasking the faculty of analysis. The best -chess-player in Christendom _may_ be little more than the best player -of chess; but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all -these more important undertakings where mind struggles with mind. When -I say proficiency, I mean that perfection in the game which includes a -comprehension of _all_ the sources whence legitimate advantage may be -derived. These are not only manifold but multiform, and lie frequently -among recesses of thought altogether inaccessible to the ordinary -understanding. To observe attentively is to remember distinctly; and, -so far, the concentrative chess-player will do very well at whist; -while the rules of Hoyle (themselves based upon the mere mechanism of -the game) are sufficiently and generally comprehensible. Thus to have -a retentive memory, and to proceed by “the book,” are points commonly -regarded as the sum total of good playing. But it is in matters beyond -the limits of mere rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced. He -makes, in silence, a host of observations and inferences. So, perhaps, -do his companions; and the difference in the extent of the information -obtained, lies not so much in the validity of the inference as in the -quality of the observation. The necessary knowledge is that of _what_ to -observe. Our player confines himself not at all; nor, because the game is -the object, does he reject deductions from things external to the game. -He examines the countenance of his partner, comparing it carefully with -that of each of his opponents. He considers the mode of assorting the -cards in each hand; often counting trump by trump and honor by honor, -through the glances bestowed by their holders upon each. He notes every -variation of face as the play progresses, gathering a fund of thought -from the differences in the expression of certainty, of surprise, of -triumph, or chagrin. From the manner of gathering up a trick he judges -whether the person taking it can make another in the suit. He recognizes -what is played through feint, by the air with which it is thrown upon the -table. A casual or inadvertent word; the accidental dropping or turning -of a card, with the accompanying anxiety or carelessness in regard to -its concealment; the counting of the tricks, with the order of their -arrangement; embarrassment, hesitation, eagerness or trepidation—all -afford, to his apparently intuitive perception, indications of the true -state of affairs. The first two or three rounds having been played, he is -in full possession of the contents of each hand, and thenceforward puts -down his card with as absolute a precision of purpose as if the rest of -the party had turned outward the faces of their own. - -The analytical power should not be confounded with simple ingenuity; for -while the analyst is necessarily ingenious, the ingenious man is often -remarkably incapable of analysis. The constructive or combining power, -by which ingenuity is usually manifested, and to which the phrenologists -(I believe erroneously) have assigned a separate organ, supposing it a -primitive faculty, has been so frequently seen in those whose intellect -bordered otherwise upon idiocy, as to have attracted general observation -among writers on morals. Between ingenuity and the analytic ability there -exists a difference far greater, indeed, than that between the fancy and -the imagination, but of a character very strictly analogous. It will be -found, in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the _truly_ -imaginative never otherwise than analytic. - -The narrative which follows will appear to the reader somewhat in the -light of a commentary upon the propositions just advanced. - -Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the summer of 18—, I -there became acquainted with a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young -gentleman was of an excellent—indeed of an illustrious family, but, by -a variety of untoward events, had been reduced to such poverty that the -energy of his character succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to bestir -himself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes. By -courtesy of his creditors, there still remained in his possession a small -remnant of his patrimony; and upon the income arising from this, he -managed, by means of a rigorous economy, to procure the necessaries of -life, without troubling himself about its superfluities. Books, indeed, -were his sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained. - -Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre, where -the accident of our both being in search of the same very rare and very -remarkable volume, brought us into closer communion. We saw each other -again and again. I was deeply interested in the little family history -which he detailed to me with all that candor which a Frenchman indulges -whenever mere self is the theme. I was astonished, too, at the vast -extent of his reading; and above all, I felt my soul enkindled within -me by the wild fervor, and the vivid freshness of his imagination. -Seeking in Paris the objects I then sought, I felt that the society of -such a man would be to me a treasure beyond price; and this feeling I -frankly confided to him. It was at length arranged that we should live -together during my stay in the city; and as my worldly circumstances were -somewhat less embarrassed than his own, I was permitted to be at the -expense of renting, and furnishing in a style which suited the rather -fantastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesque mansion, -long deserted through superstitions into which we did not enquire, and -tottering to its fall in a retired and desolate portion of the Faubourg -St. Germain. - -Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we -should have been regarded as madmen—although, perhaps, as madmen of a -harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors. -Indeed the locality of our retirement had been carefully kept a secret -from my own former associates; and it had been many years since Dupin had -ceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed within ourselves alone. - -It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?) to -be enamored of the Night for her own sake; and into this _bizarrerie_, as -into all his others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild whims -with a perfect _abandon_. The sable divinity would not herself dwell -with us always; but we could counterfeit her presence. At the first dawn -of the morning we closed all the massy shutters of our old building; -lighted a couple of tapers which, strongly perfumed, threw out only the -ghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of these we then busied our -souls in dreams—reading, writing, or conversing, until warned by the -clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the -street, arm and arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far and -wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the -populous city, that infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation -can afford. - -At such times I could not help remarking and admiring (although from -his rich ideality I had been prepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic -ability in Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in its -exercise—if not exactly in its display—and did not hesitate to confess -the pleasure thus derived. He boasted to me, with a low chuckling laugh, -that most men, in respect to himself, wore windows in their bosoms, -and was wont to follow up such assertions by direct and very startling -proofs of his intimate knowledge of my own. His manner at these movements -was frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant in expression; while his -voice, usually a rich tenor, rose into a treble which would have sounded -petulantly but for the deliberateness and entire distinctness of the -enunciation. Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditatively -upon the old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the -fancy of a double Dupin—the creative and the resolvent. - -Let it not be supposed, from what I have just said, that I am detailing -any mystery, or penning any romance. What I have described in the -Frenchman, was merely the result of an excited, or perhaps of a diseased -intelligence. But of the character of his remarks at the periods in -question an example will best convey the idea. - -We were strolling one night down a long dirty street, in the vicinity of -the Palais Royal. Being both, apparently, occupied with thought, neither -of us had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. All at once -Dupin broke forth with these words:— - -“He is a very little fellow, that’s true, and would do better for the -Theatre des Varietes.” - -“There can be no doubt of that,” I replied unwittingly, and not at first -observing (so much had I been absorbed in reflection) the extraordinary -manner in which the speaker had chimed in with my meditations. In an -instant afterward I recollected myself, and my astonishment was profound. - -“Dupin,” said I gravely, “this is beyond my comprehension. I do not -hesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. How -was it possible you should know I was thinking of——?” Here I paused, to -ascertain beyond a doubt whether he really knew of whom I thought. - -——“of Chantilly,” said he, “why do you pause? You were remarking to -yourself that his diminutive figure unfitted him for tragedy.” - -This was precisely what had formed the subject of my reflections. -Chantilly was a _quondam_ cobbler of the Rue St. Denis, who, becoming -stage-mad, had attempted the _role_ of Xerxes, in Crebillon’s tragedy so -called, and been notoriously Pasquinaded for his pains. - -“Tell me, for Heaven’s sake,” I exclaimed, “the method—if method there -is—by which you have been enabled to fathom my soul in this matter.” In -fact, I was even more startled than I would have been willing to express. - -“It was the fruiterer,” replied my friend, “who brought you to the -conclusion that the mender of soles was not of sufficient height for -Xerxes _et id genus omne_.” - -“The fruiterer!—you astonish me—I know no fruiterer whomsoever.” - -“The man who ran up against you as we entered the street—it may have been -fifteen minutes ago.” - -I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carrying upon his head a -large basket of apples, had nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we -passed from the Rue C⸺ into the thoroughfare where we stood; but what -this had to do with Chantilly I could not possibly understand. - -There was not a particle of _charlatanerie_ about Dupin. “I will -explain,” he said, “and that you may comprehend all clearly, we will -first retrace the course of meditations, from the moment in which I spoke -to you until that of the _rencontre_ with the fruiterer in question. -The larger links of the chain run thus—Chantilly, Orion, Dr. Nichols, -Epicurus, Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer.” - -There are few persons who have not, at some period of their lives, -amused themselves in retracing the steps by which particular conclusions -of their own minds have been attained. The occupation is often full -of interest; and he who attempts it for the first time is astonished -by the apparently illimitable distance and incoherence between the -starting-point and the goal. What, then, must have been my amazement when -I heard the Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when I could not -help acknowledging that he had spoken the truth. He continued: - -“We had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just before leaving -the Rue C⸺. This was the last subject we discussed. As we crossed into -this street, a fruiterer, with a large basket upon his head, brushing -quickly past us, thrust you upon a pile of paving-stones collected at a -spot where the causeway is undergoing repair. You stepped upon one of the -loose fragments, slipped, slightly strained your ankle, appeared vexed -or sulky, muttered a few words, turned to look at the pile, and then -proceeded in silence. I was not particularly attentive to what you did; -but observation has become with me, of late, a species of necessity. - -“You kept your eyes upon the ground—glancing, with a petulant -expression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement, (so that I saw you -were still thinking of the stones,) until we reached the little alley -called Lamartine, which had been paved, by way of experiment, with the -overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up, -and perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured the -word ‘stereotomy,’ a term very affectedly applied to this species of -pavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself ‘stereotomy’ without -being brought to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of Epicurus; -and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentioned -to you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses of -that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, -I felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great -_nebula_ in Orion, and I certainly expected that you would do so. You did -look up; and I was now assured that I had correctly followed your steps. -But in that bitter tirade upon Chantilly, which appeared in yesterday’s -‘_Musee_,’ the satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the -cobbler’s change of name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin line -about which we have often conversed. I mean the line - - Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum. - -I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written -Urion; and, from certain pungencies connected with this explanation, I -was aware that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, -that you would not fail to combine the two ideas of Orion and Chantilly. -That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile which -passed over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler’s immolation. -So far, you had been stooping in your gait; but now I saw you draw -yourself up to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon -the diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I interrupted your -meditation to remark that as, in fact, he was a very little fellow—that -Chantilly—he would do better at the _Theatre des Varietes_.” - -Not long after this we were looking over an evening edition of the -“Gazette des Tribunaux,” when the following paragraphs arrested our -attention. - -“EXTRAORDINARY MURDERS.—This morning, about three o’clock, the -inhabitants of the Quartier St. Roch were aroused from sleep by a -succession of terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourth -story of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be in the sole occupancy of -one Madame L’Espanaye, and her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille L’Espanaye. -After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to produce admission -in the usual manner, the gateway was broken in with a crowbar, and eight -or ten of the neighbors entered, accompanied by two _gendarmes_. By -this time the cries had ceased; but, as the party rushed up the first -flight of stairs, two or more rough voices, in angry contention, were -distinguished, and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house. -As the second landing was reached, these sounds, also, had ceased, and -everything remained perfectly quiet. The party spread themselves and -hurried from room to room. Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the -fourth story, (the door of which, being found locked, with key inside, -was forced open,) a spectacle presented itself which struck every one -present not less with horror than with astonishment. - -“The apartment was in the wildest disorder—the furniture broken and -thrown about in all directions. There was only one bedstead; and from -this the bed had been removed, and thrown into the middle of the floor. -On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On the hearth were two or -three long and thick tresses of grey human hair, also dabbled in blood, -and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon the floor were -found four Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, three large silver spoons, -three smaller of _metal d’ Alger_, and two bags, containing nearly four -thousand francs in gold. The drawers of a _bureau_, which stood in one -corner, were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although many -articles still remained in them. A small iron safe was discovered under -the bed (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the -door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papers of -little consequence. - -“Of Madame L’Espanaye no traces were here seen; but an unusual quantity -of soot being observed in the fire-place, a search was made in the -chimney, and (horrible to relate!) the corpse of the daughter, head -downward, was dragged therefrom; it having been thus forced up the narrow -aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite warm. Upon -examining it, many excoriations were perceived, no doubt occasioned by -the violence with which it had been thrust up and disengaged. Upon the -face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises, and -deep indentations of finger nails, as if the deceased had been throttled -to death. - -“After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, without -farther discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard in the -rear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her -throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head fell -off. The body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated—the former so -much so as scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity. - -“To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we believe, the slightest -clew.” - -The next day’s paper had these additional particulars. - -“The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. Many individuals have been examined in -relation to this most extraordinary and frightful affair.” [The word -‘_affaire_’ has not yet, in France, that levity of import which it -conveys with us,] “but nothing whatever has transpired to throw light -upon it. We give below all the material testimony elicited. - -“Pauline Dubourg, laundress, deposes that she has known both the deceased -for three years, having washed for them during that period. The old lady -and her daughter seemed on good terms—very affectionate towards each -other. They were excellent pay. Could not speak in regard to their mode -or means of living. Believed that Madame D. told fortunes for a living. -Was reputed to have money put by. Never met any persons in the house when -she called for the clothes or took them home. Was sure that they had no -servant in employ. There appeared to be no furniture in any part of the -building except in the fourth story. - -“_Pierre Moreau_, tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit of -selling small quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame L’Espanaye for -nearly four years. Was born in the neighborhood, and has always resided -there. The deceased and her daughter had occupied the house in which the -corpses were found, for more than six years. It was formerly occupied by -a jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms to various persons. The house -was the property of Madame L. She became dissatisfied with the abuse of -the premises by her tenant, and moved into them herself, refusing to let -any portion. The old lady was childish. Witness had seen the daughter -some five or six times during the six years. The two lived an exceedingly -retired life—were reputed to have money. Had heard it said among the -neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes—did not believe it. Had never seen -any person enter the door except the old lady and her daughter, a porter -once or twice, and a physician some eight or ten times. - -“Many other persons, neighbors, gave evidence to the same effect. No one -was spoken of as frequenting the house. It was not known whether there -were any living connections of Madame L. and her daughter. The shutters -of the front windows were seldom opened. Those in the rear were always -closed, with the exception of the large back room, fourth story. The -house was a good house—not very old. - -“Isidore Muset, _gendarme_, deposes that he was called to the house about -three o’clock in the morning, and found some twenty or thirty persons at -the gateway, endeavoring to gain admittance. Forced it open, at length, -with a bayonet—not with a crowbar. Had but little difficulty in getting -it open, on account of its being a double or folding gate, and bolted -neither at bottom nor top. The shrieks were continued until the gate -was forced—and then suddenly ceased. They seemed to be screams of some -person (or persons) in great agony—were loud and drawn out, not short and -quick. Witness led the way upstairs. Upon reaching the first landing, -heard two voices in loud and angry contention—the one a gruff voice, the -other much shriller—a very strange voice. Could distinguish some words of -the former, which was that of a Frenchman. Was positive that it was not -a woman’s voice. Could distinguish the words, ‘_sacre_’ and ‘_diable_.’ -The shrill voice was that of a foreigner. Could not be sure whether it -was the voice of a man or of a woman. Could not make out what was said, -but believed the language to be Spanish. The state of the room and of the -bodies was described by this witness as we described them yesterday. - -“_Henri Duval_, a neighbor, and by trade a silversmith, deposes that -he was one of the party who first entered the house. Corroborates the -testimony of Muset in general. As soon as they forced an entrance, they -reclosed the door, to keep out the crowd, which collected very fast, -notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The shrill voice, the witness -thinks, was that of an Italian. Was certain it was not French. Could not -be sure that it was a man’s voice. It might have been a woman’s. Was not -acquainted with the Italian language. Could not distinguish the words, -but was convinced by the intonation that the speaker was an Italian. Knew -Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both frequently. Was sure -that the shrill voice was not that of either of the deceased. - -“_⸺ Odenheimer, restaurateur._ The witness volunteered his testimony. -Not speaking French, was examined through an interpreter. Is a native of -Amsterdam. Was passing the house at the time of the shrieks. They lasted -for several minutes—probably ten. They were long and loud—very awful and -distressing. Was one of those who entered the building. Corroborated -the previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure that the shrill -voice was that of a man—of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish the words -uttered. They were loud and quick—unequal—spoken apparently in fear as -well as in anger. The voice was harsh—not so much shrill as harsh. Could -not call it a shrill voice. The gruff voice said repeatedly ‘_sacre_,’ -‘_diable_’ and once ‘_mon Dieu_.’ - -“_Jules Mignaud_, banker of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine. -Is the elder Mignaud. Madame L’Espanaye had some property. Had opened -an account with his banking house in the spring of the year ⸺ (eight -years previously). Made frequent deposits in small sums. Had checked for -nothing until the third day before her death, when she took out in person -the sum of 4000 francs. This sum was paid in gold, and a clerk sent home -with the money. - -“_Adolphe Le Bon_, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day in -question, about noon, he accompanied Madame L’Espanaye to her residence -with the 4000 francs, put up in two bags. Upon the door being opened, -Mademoiselle L. appeared and took from his hands one of the bags, while -the old lady relieved him of the other. He then bowed and departed. Did -not see any person in the street at the time. It is a bye-street—very -lonely. - -“_William Bird_, tailor, deposes that he was one of the party who entered -the house. Is an Englishman. Has lived in Paris two years. Was one of the -first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in contention. The gruff -voice was that of a Frenchman. Could make out several words, but cannot -now remember all. Heard distinctly ‘_sacre_’ and ‘_mon Dieu_.’ There was -a sound at the moment as if of several persons struggling—a scraping and -scuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud—louder than the gruff -one. Is sure that it was not the voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be -that of a German. Might have been a woman’s voice. Does not understand -German. - -“Four of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that the -door of the chamber in which was found the body of Mademoiselle L. was -locked on the inside when the party reached it. Everything was perfectly -silent—no groans or noises of any kind. Upon forcing the door no person -was seen. The windows, both of the back and front room, were down and -firmly fastened from within. A door between the two rooms was closed, -but not locked. The door leading from the front room into the passage -was locked, with the key on the inside. A small room in the front of -the house, on the fourth story, at the head of the passage, was open, -the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds, boxes, and so -forth. These were carefully removed and searched. There was not an inch -of any portion of the house which was not carefully searched. Sweeps -were sent up and down the chimneys. The house was a four story one, with -garrets (_mansardes_). A trap-door on the roof was nailed down very -securely—did not appear to have been opened for years. The time elapsing -between the hearing of the voices in contention and the breaking open of -the room door, was variously stated by the witnesses. Some made it as -short as three minutes—some as long as five. The door was opened with -difficulty. - -“_Alfonso Garcio_, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the Rue Morgue. -Is a native of Spain. Was one of the party who entered the house. Did not -proceed upstairs. Is nervous, and was apprehensive of the consequences -of agitation. Heard the voices in contention. The gruff voice was that of -a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what was said. The shrill voice was -that of an Englishman—is sure of this. Does not understand the English -language, but judges by the intonation. - -“_Alberto Montani_, confectioner, deposes that he was among the first to -ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in question. The gruff voice was that -of a Frenchman. Distinguished several words. The speaker appeared to be -expostulating. Could not make out the words of the shrill voice. Spoke -quick and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian. Corroborates the -general testimony. Is an Italian. Never conversed with a native of Russia. - -“Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of all the -rooms on the fourth story were too narrow to admit the passage of a human -being. By ‘sweeps’ were meant cylindrical sweeping-brushes, such as are -employed by those who clean chimneys. These brushes were passed up end -down every flue in the house. There is no back passage by which any one -could have descended while the party proceeded up stairs. The body of -Mademoiselle L’Espanaye was so firmly wedged in the chimney that it could -not be got down until four or five of the party united their strength. - -“_Paul Dumas_, physician, deposes that he was called to view the bodies -about day-break. They were both then lying on the sacking of the bedstead -in the chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse of the young -lady was much bruised and excoriated. The fact that it had been thrust -up the chimney would sufficiently account for these appearances. The -throat was greatly chafed. There were several deep scratches just below -the chin, together with a series of livid spots which were evidently -the impression of fingers. The face was fearfully discolored, and the -eye-balls protruded. The tongue had been partially bitten through. -A large bruise was discovered upon the pit of the stomach, produced -apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In the opinion of M. Dumas, -Mademoiselle L’Espanaye had been throttled to death by some person or -persons unknown. The corpse of the mother was horribly mutilated. All -the bones of the right leg and arm were more or less shattered. The left -_tibia_ much splintered, as well as all the ribs of the left side. Whole -body dreadfully bruised and discolored. It was not possible to say how -the injuries had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a broad bar -of iron—a chair—any large, heavy, and obtuse weapon would have produced -such results, if wielded by the hands of a very powerful man. No woman -could have inflicted the blows with any weapon. The head of the deceased, -when seen by witness, was entirely separated from the body, and was also -greatly shattered. The throat had evidently been cut with some very sharp -instrument—probably with a razor. - -“_Alexandre Etienne_, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view the -bodies. Corroborated the testimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas. - -“Nothing farther of importance was elicited, although several other -persons were examined. A murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in all -its particulars, was never before committed in Paris—if indeed a murder -had been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault—an unusual -occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the shadow -of a clue apparent.” - -The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement -still continued in the Quartier St. Roch—that the premises in question -had been carefully re-searched, and fresh examinations of witnesses -instituted, but all to no purpose. A postscript, however, mentioned that -Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and imprisoned—although nothing appeared -to criminate him, beyond the facts already detailed. - -Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair—at -least so I judged from his manner, for he made no comments. It was only -after the announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he asked me -my opinion respecting the murders. - -I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble -mystery. I saw no means by which it would be possible to trace the -murderer. - -“We must not judge of the means,” said Dupin, “by this shell of an -examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for _acumen_, are -cunning, but no more. There is no method in their proceedings, beyond -the method of the moment. They make a vast parade of measures; but, not -unfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the object proposed, as to put -us in mind of Monsieur Jourdain’s calling for his _robe-de-chambre—pour -mieux entendre la musique_. The results attained by them are not -unfrequently surprising, but, for the most part, are brought about by -simple diligence and activity. When these qualities are unavailing, their -schemes fail. Vidocq, for example, was a good guesser, and a persevering -man. But, without educated thought, he erred continually by the very -intensity of his investigations. He impaired his vision by holding the -object too close. He might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual -clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of the matter -as a whole. Thus there is such a thing as being too profound. Truth is -not always in a well. In fact, as regards the more important knowledge, -I do believe that she is invariably superficial. The depth lies in the -valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain tops where she is -found. The modes and sources of this kind of error are well typified in -the contemplation of the heavenly bodies. To look at a star by glances—to -view it in a side-long way, by turning toward it the exterior portions -of the _retina_ (more susceptible of feeble impressions of light than -the interior), is to behold the star distinctly—is to have the best -appreciation of its lustre—a lustre which grows dim just in proportion -as we turn our vision _fully_ upon it. A greater number of rays actually -fall upon the eye in the latter case, but, in the former, there is the -more refined capacity for comprehension. By undue profundity we perplex -and enfeeble thought; and it is very possible to make even Venus herself -vanish from the firmament by a scrutiny too sustained, too concentrated, -or too direct. - -“As for these murders, let us enter into some examinations for ourselves, -before we make up an opinion respecting them. An inquiry will afford us -amusement,” [I thought this an odd term, so applied, but said nothing] -“and, besides, Le Bon once rendered me a service for which I am not -ungrateful. We will go and see the premises with our own eyes. I know -G⸺, the Prefect of Police, and shall have no difficulty in obtaining the -necessary permission.” - -The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue. -This is one of those miserable thoroughfares which intervene between the -Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in the afternoon when we -reached it; as this quarter is at a great distance from that in which we -resided. The house was readily found; for there were still many persons -gazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless curiosity, from -the opposite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian house, with -a gateway, on one side of which was a glazed watch-box, with a sliding -panel in the window, indicating a _loge de concierge_. Before going in -we walked up the street, turned down an alley, and then, again turning, -passed in the rear of the building—Dupin, meanwhile, examining the whole -neighborhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention for -which I could see no possible object. - -Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang, -and, having shown our credentials, were admitted by the agents in charge. -We went up stairs—into the chamber where the body of Mademoiselle -L’Espanaye had been found, and where both the deceased still lay. The -disorders of the room had, as usual, been suffered to exist. I saw -nothing beyond what had been stated in the “Gazette des Tribunaux.” Dupin -scrutinised every thing—not excepting the bodies of the victims. We then -went into the other rooms, and into the yard; a _gendarme_ accompanying -us throughout. The examination occupied us until dark, when we took our -departure. On our way home my companion stopped in for a moment at the -office of one of the daily papers. - -I have said that the whims of my friend were manifold, and that _Je les -menageais_—for this phrase there is no English equivalent. It was his -humor, now, to decline all conversation on the subject of the murder, -until about noon the next day. He then asked me, suddenly, if I had -observed anything _peculiar_ at the scene of the atrocity. - -There was something in his manner of emphasizing the word “peculiar,” -which caused me to shudder, without knowing why. - -“No, nothing _peculiar_,” I said; “nothing more, at least, than we both -saw stated in the paper.” - -“The ‘Gazette,’” he replied, “has not entered, I fear, into the unusual -horror of the thing. But dismiss the idle opinions of this print. It -appears to me that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the very -reason which should cause it to be regarded as easy of solution—I mean -for the _outre_ character of its features. The police are confounded -by the seeming absence of motive—not for the murder itself—but for -the atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled, too, by the seeming -impossibility of reconciling the voices heard in contention, with -the facts that no one was discovered up stairs but the assassinated -Mademoiselle L’Espanaye, and that there were no means of egress without -notice of the party ascending. The wild disorder of the room; the corpse -thrust, with the head downward, up the chimney; the frightful mutilation -of the body of the old lady; these considerations, with those just -mentioned, and others which I need not mention, have sufficed to paralyze -the powers, by putting completely at fault the boasted _acumen_, of the -government agents. They have fallen into the gross but common error of -confounding the unusual with the abstruse. But it is by these deviations -from the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels its way, if at all, in -its search for the true. In investigations such as we are now pursuing, -it should not be so much asked ‘what has occurred,’ as ‘what has occurred -that has never occurred before.’ In fact, the facility with which I shall -arrive, or have arrived, at the solution of this mystery, is in the -direct ratio of its apparent insolubility in the eyes of the police.” - -I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment. - -“I am now awaiting,” continued he, looking toward the door of our -apartment—“I am now awaiting a person who, although perhaps not the -perpetrator of these butcheries, must have been in some measure -implicated in their perpetration. Of the worst portion of the crimes -committed, it is probable that he is innocent. I hope that I am right in -the supposition; for upon it I build my expectation of reading the entire -riddle. I look for the man here—in this room—every moment. It is true -that he may not arrive; but the probability is that he will. Should he -come, it will be necessary to detain him. Here are pistols; and we both -know how to use them when occasion demands their use.” - -I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or believing what I -heard, while Dupin went on, very much as if in a soliloquy. I have -already spoken of his abstract manner at such times. His discourse was -addressed to myself; but his voice, although by no means loud, had that -intonation which is commonly employed in speaking to some one at a great -distance. His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the wall. - -“That the voices heard in contention,” he said, “by the party upon the -stairs, were not the voices of the women themselves, was fully proved by -the evidence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the question whether -the old lady could have first destroyed the daughter, and afterwards -have committed suicide. I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of -method; for the strength of Madame L’Espanaye would have been utterly -unequal to the task of thrusting her daughter’s corpse up the chimney as -it was found; and the nature of the wounds upon her own person entirely -preclude the idea of self-destruction. Murder, then, has been committed -by some third party; and the voices of this third party were those heard -in contention. Let me now advert—not to the whole testimony respecting -these voices—but to what was peculiar in that testimony. Did you observe -anything peculiar about it?” - -I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruff -voice to be that of a Frenchman, there was much disagreement in regard to -the shrill, or, as one individual termed it, the harsh voice. - -“That was the evidence itself,” said Dupin, “but it was not the -peculiarity of the evidence. You have observed nothing distinctive. Yet -there was something to be observed. The witnesses, as you remark, agreed -about the gruff voice; they were here unanimous. But in regard to the -shrill voice, the peculiarity is—not that they disagreed—but that, while -an Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hollander, and a Frenchman -attempted to describe it, each one spoke of it as that of a foreigner. -Each is sure that it was not the voice of one of his own countrymen. Each -likens it—not to the voice of an individual of any nation with whose -language he is conversant—but the converse. The Frenchman supposes it -the voice of a Spaniard, and ‘might have distinguished some words had -he been acquainted with the Spanish.’ The Dutchman maintains it to have -been that of a Frenchman; but we find it stated that ‘not understanding -French this witness was examined through an interpreter.’ The Englishman -thinks it the voice of a German, and ‘does not understand German.’ The -Spaniard ‘is sure’ that it was that of an Englishman, but ‘judges by the -intonation’ altogether, ‘as he has no knowledge of the English.’ The -Italian believes it the voice of a Russian, but ‘has never conversed -with a native of Russia.’ A second Frenchman differs, moreover, with the -first, and is positive that the voice was that of an Italian; but, ‘not -being cognizant of that tongue,’ is, like the Spaniard, ‘convinced by -the intonation.’ Now, how strangely unusual must that voice have really -been, about which such testimony as this could have been elicited!—in -whose _tones_, even, denizens of the five great divisions of Europe could -recognize nothing familiar! You will say that it might have been the -voice of an Asiatic—of an African. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound -in Paris; but, without denying the inference, I will now merely call your -attention to three points. The voice is termed by one witness ‘harsh -rather than shrill.’ It is represented by two others to have been ‘quick -and _unequal_.’ No words—no sounds resembling words—were by any witnesses -mentioned as distinguishable. - -“I know not,” continued Dupin, “what impression I may have made, so -far, upon your own understanding; but I do not hesitate to say that -legitimate deductions even from this portion of the testimony—the portion -respecting the gruff and shrill voices—are in themselves sufficient to -engender a suspicion which should give direction to all farther progress -in the investigation of the mystery. I said ‘legitimate deductions;’ -but my meaning is not thus fully expressed. I designed to imply that -the deductions are the sole proper ones, and that the suspicion arises -_inevitably_ from them as the single result. What the suspicion is -however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you to bear in mind that, -with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give a definite form—a -certain tendency—to my inquiries in the chamber. - -“Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. What shall -we first seek here? The means of egress employed by the murderers. It -is not too much to say that neither of us believe in praeternatural -events, Madame and Mademoiselle L’Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits. -The doers of the deed were material, and escaped materially. Then how? -Fortunately, there is but one mode of reasoning upon the point, and -that mode must lead us to a definite decision. Let us examine, each by -each, the possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins were -in the room where Mademoiselle L’Espanaye was found, or at least in the -room adjoining, when the party ascended the stairs. It is then only from -these two apartments that we have to seek issues. The police have laid -bare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, in every -direction. No secret issues could have escaped their vigilance. But, not -trusting to their eyes, I examined with my own. There were, then, no -secret issues. Both doors leading from the rooms into the passage were -securely locked, with keys inside. Let us turn to the chimneys. These, -although of ordinary width for some eight or ten feet above the hearths, -will not admit, throughout their extent, the body of a large cat. The -impossibility of egress by means already stated, being thus absolute, we -are reduced to the windows. Through those of the front room no one could -have escaped without notice from the crowd in the street. The murderers -must have passed, then, through those of the back room. Now, brought to -this conclusion in so unequivocal a manner as we are, it is not our part, -as reasoners, to reject it on account of apparent impossibilities. It is -only left for us to prove that these apparent ‘impossibilities’ are, in -reality, not such. - -“There are two windows in the chamber. One of them is unobstructed by -furniture, and is wholly visible. The lower portion of the other is -hidden from view by the head of the unwieldy bedstead which is thrust -close up against it. The former was found securely fastened from within. -It resisted the utmost force of those who endeavored to raise it. A -large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, and a very -stout nail was found fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon examining -the other window, a similar nail was seen similarly fitted into it; and -a vigorous attempt to raise this sash, failed also. The police are now -entirely satisfied that egress had not been in these directions. And, -_therefore_, it was thought a matter of superogation to withdraw the -nails and open the windows. - -“My own examination was somewhat more particular, and was so for the -reason I have just given—because here it was, I knew, that all apparent -impossibilities must be proved to be not such in reality. - -“I proceeded to think thus—_a posteriori_. The murderers _did_ escape -from one of these windows. This being so, they could not have re-fastened -the sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened—the consideration -which put a stop, through its obviousness, to the scrutiny of the -police in this quarter. Yet the sashes _were_ fastened. They must, -then, have the power of fastening themselves. There was no escape from -this conclusion. I stepped to the unobstructed casement, withdrew the -nail with some difficulty, and attempted to raise the sash. It resisted -all my efforts, as I had anticipated. A concealed spring must, I now -knew, exist; and this corroboration of my idea convinced me that my -premises, at least, were correct, however mysterious still appeared the -circumstances attending the nails. A careful search soon brought to light -the hidden spring. I pressed it, and, satisfied with the discovery, -forebore to upraise the sash. - -“I now replaced the nail and regulated it attentively. A person passing -out through this window might have reclosed it, and the spring would -have caught—but the nail could not have been replaced. The conclusion -was plain, and again narrowed in the field of my investigations. The -assassins _must_ have escaped through the other window. Supposing, then, -the springs upon each sash to be the same, as was probable, there _must_ -be found a difference between the nails, or at least between the modes -of their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bedstead, I looked -over the headboard minutely at the second casement. Passing my hand down -behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the spring, which was, -as I had supposed, identical in character with its neighbor. I now looked -at the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparently fitted in the -same manner—driven in nearly up to the head. - -“You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think so, you must have -misunderstood the nature of the inductions. To use a sporting phrase, I -had not been once ‘at fault.’ The scent had never for an instant been -lost. There was no flaw in any link of the chain. I had traced the secret -to its ultimate result—and that result was the _nail_. It had, I say, -in every respect the appearance of its fellow in the other window; but -this fact was an absolute nullity (conclusive as it might seem to be) -when compared with the consideration that here, at this point, terminated -the clew, ‘There must be something wrong,’ I said, ‘about the nail.’ I -touched it; and the head, with about a quarter of an inch of the shank, -came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was in the gimlet-hole, -where it had been broken off. The fracture was an old one (for its edges -were incrusted with rust), and had apparently been accomplished by the -blow of a hammer, which had partially imbedded, in the top of the bottom -sash, the head portion of the nail. I now carefully replaced this head -portion in the indentation whence I had taken it, and the resemblance -to a perfect nail was complete—the fissure was invisible. Pressing the -spring, I gently raised the sash for a few inches; the head went up with -it, remaining firm in its bed. I closed the window, and the semblance of -the whole nail was again perfect. - -“The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped through -the window which looked upon the bed. Dropping of its own accord upon -his exit (or perhaps purposely closed), it had become fastened by the -spring and it was the retention of this spring which had been mistaken -by the police for that of the nail—farther inquiry being thus considered -unnecessary. - -“The next question is that of the mode of descent. Upon this point I -had been satisfied in my walk with you around the building. About five -feet and a half from the casement in question there runs a lightning -rod. From this rod it would have been impossible for anyone to reach -the window itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however, -that the shutters of the fourth story were of the peculiar kind called -by Parisian carpenters _ferrades_—a kind rarely employed at the present -day, but frequently seen upon very old mansions at Lyons and Bordeaux. -They are in the form of an ordinary door, (a single, not a folding door) -except that the upper half is latticed or worked in open trellis—thus -affording an excellent hold for the hands. In the present instance these -shutters are fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw them from the -rear of the house, they were both about half open—that is to say, they -stood off at right angles from the wall. It is probable that the police, -as well as myself, examined the back of the tenement; but, if so, in -looking at these _ferrades_ in the line of their breadth (as they must -have done), they did not perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all -events, failed to take it into due consideration. In fact, having once -satisfied themselves that no egress could have been made in this quarter, -they would naturally bestow here a very cursory examination. It was clear -to me, however, that the shutter belonging to the window at the head of -the bed, would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach to within two feet -of the lightning-rod. It was also evident that, by exertion of a very -unusual degree of activity and courage, an entrance into the window, from -the rod, might have been thus effected. By reaching to the distance of -two feet and a half (we now suppose the shutter open to its whole extent) -a robber might have taken a firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting go, -then, his hold upon the rod, placing his feet securely against the wall, -and springing boldly from it, he might have swung the shutter so as to -close it, and, if we imagine the window open at the time, might even -have swung himself into the room. - -“I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a very -unusual degree of activity as requisite to success in so hazardous and -so difficult a feat. It is my design to show you, first, that the thing -might possibly have been accomplished—but, secondly and _chiefly_, I wish -to impress upon your understanding the very _extraordinary_—the almost -praeternatural character of the agility which could have accomplished it. - -“You will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that ‘to make out -my case’ I should rather undervalue than insist upon a full estimation -of the activity required in this matter. This may be the practice in -law, but it is not the usage of reason. My ultimate object is only the -truth. My immediate purpose is to lead you to place in juxta-position -that _very unusual_ activity of which I have just spoken, with that _very -peculiar_ shrill (or harsh) and _unequal_ voice, about whose nationality -no two persons could be found to agree, and in whose utterance no -syllabification could be detected.” - -At these words a vague and half-formed conception of the meaning of Dupin -flitted over my mind. I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension, -without power to comprehend—as men, at times, find themselves upon the -brink of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember. My -friend went on with his discourse. - -“You will see,” he said, “that I have shifted the question from the mode -of egress to that of ingress. It was my design to suggest that both were -effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let us now revert to the -interior of the room. Let us survey the appearances here. The drawers -of the bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although many articles of -apparel still remained within them. The conclusion here is absurd. It is -a mere guess—a very silly one—and no more. How are we to know that the -articles found in the drawers were not all these drawers had originally -contained? Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter lived an exceedingly -retired life—saw no company—seldom went out—had little use for numerous -change of habiliment. Those found were at least of as good quality as any -likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief had taken any, why -did he not take the best—why did he not take all? In a word, why did he -abandon four thousand francs in gold to encumber himself with a bundle of -linen? The gold was abandoned. Nearly the whole sum mentioned by Monsieur -Mignaud, the banker, was discovered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish you, -therefore, to discard from your thoughts the blundering idea of _motive_, -engendered in the brains of the police by that portion of the evidence -which speaks of money delivered at the door of the house. Coincidences -ten times as remarkable as this (the delivery of the money, and murder -committed within three days upon the party receiving it), happen to all -of us every hour of our lives, without attracting even momentary notice. -Coincidences, in general, are great stumbling-blocks in the way of that -class of thinkers who have been educated to know nothing of the theory -of probabilities—that theory to which the most glorious objects of human -research are indebted for the most glorious of illustration. In the -present instance, had the gold been gone, the fact of its delivery three -days before would have formed something more than a coincidence. It would -have been corroborative of this idea of motive. But, under the real -circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the motive of this -outrage, we must also imagine the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as -to have abandoned his gold and his motive together. - -“Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn your -attention—that peculiar voice, that unusual agility, and that startling -absence of motive in a murder so singularly atrocious as this—let us -glance at the butchery itself. Here is a woman strangled to death by -manual strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downward. Ordinarily -assassins employ no such modes of murder as this. Least of all, do they -thus dispose of the murdered. In the manner of thrusting the corpse -up the chimney, you will admit that there was something excessively -_outre_—something altogether irreconcilable with our common notions of -human action, even when we suppose the actors the most depraved of men. -Think, too, how great must have been that strength which could have -thrust the body up such an aperture so forcibly that the united vigor of -several persons was found barely sufficient to drag it down! - -“Turn now to other indications of the employment of a vigor most -marvelous. On the hearth were thick tresses—very thick tresses—of grey -human hair. These had been torn out by the roots. You are aware of the -great force necessary in tearing thus from the head even twenty or -thirty hairs together. You saw the locks in question as well as myself. -Their roots (a hideous sight!) were clotted with fragments of the flesh -of the scalp—sure token of the prodigious power which had been exerted -in uprooting perhaps half a million hairs at a time. The throat of the -old lady was not merely cut, but the head absolutely severed from the -body—the instrument was a mere razor. I wish you also to look at the -brutal ferocity of these deeds. Of the bruises upon the body of Madame -L’Espanaye I do not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthy coadjutor -Monsieur Etienne, have pronounced that they were inflicted by some obtuse -instrument; and so far these gentlemen are very correct. The obtuse -instrument was clearly the stone pavement in the yard, upon which the -victim had fallen from the window which looked in upon the bed. This -idea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the police for the same -reason that the breadth of the shutters escaped them—because, by the -affair of the nails, their perceptions have been hermetically sealed -against the possibility of the windows having ever been opened at all. - -“If now, in addition to all these things, you have properly reflected -upon the odd disorder of the chamber, we have gone so far as to combine -the ideas of an agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a ferocity -brutal, a butchery without motive, a _grotesquerie_ in horror absolutely -alien from humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to the ears of men of -many nations, and devoid of all distinct or intelligible syllabification. -What result, then, has ensued? What impression have I made upon your -fancy?” - -I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. “A -madman,” I said, “has done this deed—some raving maniac, escaped from a -neighboring _Maison de Sante_.” - -“In some respects,” he replied, “your idea is not irrelevant. But the -voices of madmen, even in their wildest paroxysms, are never found to -tally with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are of some -nation, and their language, however incoherent in its words, has always -the coherence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman is not -such as I now hold in my hand. I disentangled this little tuft from the -rigidly clutched fingers of Madame L’Espanaye. Tell me what you can make -of it.” - -“Dupin!” I said, completely unnerved; “this hair is most unusual—this is -no _human_ hair.” - -“I have not asserted that it is,” said he; “but before we decide this -point, I wish you to glance at the little sketch I have here traced upon -this paper. It is a _fac-simile_ drawing of what has been described in -one portion of the testimony as ‘dark bruises, and deep indentations -of finger nails,’ upon the throat of Mademoiselle L’Espanaye, and in -another, (by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne,) as a ‘series of livid spots, -evidently the impression of fingers.’ - -“You will perceive,” continued my friend, spreading out the paper -upon the table before us, “that this drawing gives the idea of a firm -and fixed hold. There is no _slipping_ apparent. Each finger has -retained—possibly until the death of the victim—the fearful grasp by -which it originally imbedded itself. Attempt, now, to place all your -fingers, at the same time, in the respective impressions as you see them.” - -I made the attempt in vain. - -“We are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial,” he said. “The -paper is spread out upon a plane surface; but the human throat is -cylindrical. Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of which is -about that of the throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and try the -experiment again.” - -I did so; but the difficulty was even more obvious than before. - -“This,” I said, “is the mark of no human hand.” - -“Read now,” replied Dupin, “this passage from Cuvier.” - -It was a minute anatomical and generally descriptive account of the -large fulvous Ourang-Outang of the East Indian Islands. The gigantic -stature, the prodigious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, and the -imitative propensities of these mammalia are sufficiently well known to -all. I understood the full horrors of the murder at once. - -“The description of the digits,” said I, as I made an end of reading, -“is in exact accordance with this drawing. I see that no animal but -an Ourang-Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have impressed -the indentations as you have traced them. This tuft of tawny hair, -too, is identical in character with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I -cannot possibly comprehend the particulars of this frightful mystery. -Besides, there were two voices heard in contention, and one of them was -unquestionably the voice of a Frenchman.” - -“True; and you will remember an expression attributed almost unanimously, -by the evidence, to this voice—the expression, ‘mon Dieu!’ This, -under the circumstances, has been justly characterized by one of the -witnesses (Montani, the confectioner) as an expression of remonstrance -or expostulation. Upon these two words, therefore, I have mainly built -my hopes of a full solution of the riddle. A Frenchman was cognizant of -the murder. It is possible—indeed it is far more than probable—that he -was innocent of all participation in the bloody transactions which took -place. The Ourang-Outang may have escaped from him. He may have traced it -to the chamber; but, under the agitating circumstances which ensued, he -could never have re-captured it. It is still at large. I will not pursue -these guesses—for I have no right to call them more—since the shades of -reflection upon which they are based are scarcely of sufficient depth -to be appreciable by my own intellect, and since I could not pretend to -make them intelligible to the understanding of another. We will call them -guesses then, and speak of them as such. If the Frenchman in question is -indeed, as I suppose, innocent, of this atrocity, this advertisement, -which I left last night, upon our return home, at the office of ‘Le -Monde,’ (a paper devoted to the shipping interest, and much sought by -sailors,) will bring him to our residence.” - -He handed me a paper, and I read thus: - - CAUGHT—_In the Bois de Boulogne, early in the morning of the - ⸺ inst._, (the morning of the murder), _a very large, tawny - Ourang-Outang of the Bornese species. The owner, who is - ascertained to be a sailor, belonging to a Maltese vessel, may - have the animal again, upon identifying it satisfactorily and - paying a few charges arising from its capture and keeping. Call - at No. ⸺, Rue ⸺, Faubourg St. Germain—au troisieme._ - -“How was it possible,” I asked, “that you should know the man to be a -sailor, and belonging to a Maltese vessel?” - -“I do not know it,” said Dupin. “I am not sure of it. Here, however, -is a small piece of ribbon, which from its form, and from its greasy -appearance, has evidently been used in tying the hair in one of those -long queues of which sailors are so fond. Moreover, this knot is one -which few besides sailors can tie, and is peculiar to the Maltese. I -picked the ribbon up at the foot of the lightning-rod. It could not have -belonged to either of the deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong in my -induction from this ribbon, that the Frenchman was a sailor belonging -to a Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm in saying what I did -in the advertisement. If I am in error, he will merely suppose that I -have been misled by some circumstance into which he will not take the -trouble to inquire. But if I am right, a great point is gained. Cognizant -although innocent of the murder, the Frenchman will naturally hesitate -about replying to the advertisement—about demanding the Ourang-Outang. He -will reason thus:—‘I am innocent; I am poor; my Ourang-Outang is of great -value—to one in my circumstances a fortune of itself—why should I lose it -through idle apprehensions of danger? Here it is, within my grasp. It was -found in the Bois de Boulogne—at a vast distance from the scene of that -butchery. How can it ever be suspected that a brute beast should have -done the deed? The police are at fault—they have failed to procure the -slightest clew. Should they even trace the animal, it would be impossible -to prove me cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on -account of that cognizance. Above all, I am known. The advertiser -designates me as the possessor of the beast. I am not sure to what limit -his knowledge may extend. Should I avoid claiming a property of so great -value, which it is known that I possess, I will render the animal, at -least, liable to suspicion. It is not my policy to attract attention -either to myself or to the beast. I will answer the advertisement, get -the Ourang-Outang; and keep it close until this matter has blown over.’” - -At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs. - -“Be ready,” said Dupin, “with your pistols, but neither use them nor show -them until at a signal from myself.” - -The front door of the house had been left open, and the visitor had -entered, without ringing, and advanced several steps upon the staircase. -Now, however, he seemed to hesitate. Presently we heard him descending. -Dupin was moving quickly to the door, when we again heard him coming up. -He did not turn back a second time, but stepped up with decision and -rapped at the door of our chamber. - -“Come in,” said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone. - -A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently,—a tall, stout, and -muscular-looking person, with a certain dare-devil expression of -countenance, not altogether unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, -was more than half hidden by whisker and _mustachio_. He had with him -a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowed -awkwardly, and bade us “good evening,” in French accents, which, although -somewhat Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently indicative of a Parisian -origin. - -“Sit down, my friend,” said Dupin. “I suppose you have called about the -Ourang-Outang. Upon my word, I almost envy you the possession of him; -a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable animal. How old do you -suppose him to be?” - -The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of some -intolerable burden, and then replied, in an assured tone: - -“I have no way of telling—but he can’t be more than four or five years -old. Have you got him here?” - -“Oh no; we had no conveniences for keeping him here. He is at a livery -stable in the Rue Dubourg, just by. You can get him in the morning. Of -course you are prepared to identify the property?” - -“To be sure I am, sir.” - -“I shall be sorry to part with him,” said Dupin. - -“I don’t mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir,” -said the man. “Couldn’t expect it. Am very willing to pay a reward for -the finding of the animal—that is to say, anything in reason.” - -“Well,” replied my friend, “that is all very fair, to be sure. Let me -think!—what should I have? Oh! I will tell you. My reward shall be this. -You shall give me all the information in your power about these murders -in the Rue Morgue.” - -Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just as -quietly, too, he walked toward the door, locked it, and put the key in -his pocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it, without -the least flurry, upon the table. - -The sailor’s face flushed up as if he were struggling with suffocation. -He started to his feet and grasped his cudgel; but the next moment he -fell back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the countenance -of death itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom of my -heart. - -“My friend,” said Dupin, in a kind tone, “you are alarming yourself -unnecessarily—you are indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge -you the honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we intend you no -injury. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of the atrocities in -the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that you are in some -measure implicated in them. From what I have already said, you must know -that I have had means of information about this matter—means of which -you could never have dreamed. Now the thing stands thus. You have done -nothing which you could have avoided—nothing, certainly, which renders -you culpable. You were not even guilty of robbery, when you might have -robbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal. You have no reason for -concealment. On the other hand, you are bound by every principle of honor -to confess all you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned, charged with -that crime of which you can point out the perpetrator.” - -The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure, while -Dupin uttered these words; but his original boldness of bearing was all -gone. - -“So help me God,” said he, after a brief pause, “I will tell you all I -know about this affair;—but I do not expect you to believe one half I -say—I would be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I will -make a clean breast if I die for it.” - -What he stated was, in substance, this. He had lately made a voyage -to the Indian Archipelago. A party, of which he formed one, landed at -Borneo, and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure. Himself -and a companion had captured the Ourang-Outang. This companion dying, -the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. After great trouble, -occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his captive during the home -voyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safely at his own residence -in Paris, where, not to attract toward himself the unpleasant curiosity -of his neighbors, he kept it carefully secluded, until such time as it -should recover from a wound in the foot, received from a splinter on -board ship. His ultimate design was to sell it. - -Returning home from some sailor’s frolic on the night, or rather in the -morning of the murder, he found the beast occupying his own bed-room, -into which it had broken from a closet adjoining, where it had been, as -was thought, securely confined. Razor in hand, and fully lathered, it was -sitting before a looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving, in -which it had no doubt previously watched its master through the key-hole -of the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerous a weapon in the -possession of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to use it, the -man, for some moments, was at a loss what to do. He had been accustomed, -however, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods, by the use of -a whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, the Ourang-Outang -sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and -thence, through a window, unfortunately open, into the street. - -The Frenchman followed in despair; the ape, razor still in hand, -occasionally stopping to look back and gesticulate at its pursuer, until -the latter had nearly come up with it. It then again made off. In this -manner the chase continued for a long time. The streets were profoundly -quiet, as it was nearly three o’clock in the morning. In passing down -an alley in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive’s attention was -arrested by a light gleaming from the open window of Madame L’Espanaye’s -chamber, in the fourth story of her house. Rushing to the building, it -perceived the lightning-rod, clambered up with inconceivable agility, -grasped the shutter, which was thrown fully back against the wall, and, -by its means, swung itself directly upon the headboard of the bed. The -whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again by -the Ourang-Outang as it entered the room. - -The sailor, in the meantime, was both rejoiced and perplexed. He had -strong hopes of now recapturing the brute, as it could scarcely escape -from the trap into which it had ventured, except by the rod, where it -might be intercepted as it came down. On the other hand, there was much -cause for anxiety as to what it might do in the house. This latter -reflection urged the man still to follow the fugitive. A lightning-rod -is ascended without difficulty, especially by a sailor; but, when he had -arrived as high as the window, which lay far to his left, his career was -stopped; the most that he could accomplish was to reach over so as to -obtain a glimpse of the interior of the room. At this glimpse he nearly -fell from his hold through excess of horror. Now it was that those -hideous shrieks arose upon the night, which had startled from slumber the -inmates of the Rue Morgue. Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, habited -in their night clothes, had apparently been arranging some papers in the -iron chest already mentioned, which had been wheeled into the middle of -the room. It was open, and its contents lay beside it on the floor. The -victims must have been sitting with their backs toward the window; and, -from the time elapsing between the ingress of the beast and the screams, -it seems probable that it was not immediately perceived. The flapping-to -of the shutter would naturally have been attributed to the wind. - -As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized Madame L’Espanaye -by the hair, (which was loose, as she had been combing it,) and was -flourishing the razor about her face, in imitation of the motions of a -barber. The daughter lay prostrate and motionless; she had swooned. The -screams and struggles of the old lady (during which the hair was torn -from her head) had the effect of changing the probably pacific purposes -of the Ourang-Outang into those of wrath. With one determined sweep of -its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her body. The sight of -blood inflamed its anger into frenzy. Gnashing its teeth, and flashing -fire from its eyes, it flew upon the body of the girl, and imbedded its -fearful talons in her throat, retaining its grasp until she expired. -Its wandering and wild glances fell at this moment upon the head of the -bed, over which the face of its master, rigid with horror, was just -discernible. The fury of the beast, who no doubt bore still in mind the -dreaded whip, was instantly converted into fear. Conscious of having -deserved punishment, it seemed desirous of concealing its bloody deeds, -and skipped about the chamber in an agony of nervous agitation; throwing -down and breaking the furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed from -the bedstead. In conclusion, it seized first the corpse of the daughter, -and thrust it up the chimney, as it was found; then that of the old lady, -which it immediately hurled through the window headlong. - -As the ape approached the casement with its mutilated burden, the sailor -shrank aghast to the rod, and, rather gliding than clambering down it, -hurried at once home—dreading the consequences of the butchery, and -gladly abandoning, in his terror, all solicitude about the fate of the -Ourang-Outang. The words heard by the party upon the staircase were the -Frenchman’s exclamations of horror and affright, commingled with the -fiendish jabberings of the brute. - -I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-Outang must have escaped -from the chamber, by the rod, just before the breaking of the door. It -must have closed the window as it passed through it. It was subsequently -caught by the owner himself, who obtained for it a very large sum at the -_Jardin des Plantes_. Le Bon was instantly released, upon our narration -of the circumstances (with some comments from Dupin) at the _bureau_ -of the Prefect of Police. This functionary, however well disposed to -my friend, could not altogether conceal his chagrin at the turn which -affairs had taken, and was fain to indulge in a sarcasm or two, about the -propriety of every person minding his own business. - -“Let them talk,” said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to reply. -“Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience. I am satisfied with -having defeated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he failed in -the solution of this mystery, is by no means that matter for wonder which -he supposes it; for, in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhat too -cunning to be profound. In his wisdom is no _stamen_. It is all head and -no body, like the picture of the Goddess Laverna,—or, at best, all head -and shoulders, like a codfish. But he is a good creature, after all. -I like him especially for one master stroke of cant, by which he has -attained his reputation for ingenuity. I mean the way he has ‘_de nier ce -qui est, et d’expliquer ce qui n’est pas_.’”[A] - -[A] Rousseau, Nouvelle Heloise. - - - - -Kilted Wraith and Bagpipe Spook Communicate With Spiritualists - - -A most colorful procession of spirits passed before the recent convention -of the Illinois Spiritualist Association. There was a Highland gentleman -with kilts of Stewart tartan who came to give a message to “Mary,” and -who was accompanied by an uncle who played the bagpipe. “Eleanor Ives,” -a little girl of four, returned to tell her mother that all was well -in the world beyond. At first, she said, she had hated to go, but now -she is happy and often visits her mother. Lastly, a colored “mammy” was -materialized by Mrs. Waite, the medium. She was seen sitting before a -cabin door smoking an old corncob pipe. She said she had a message for -her granddaughter. - - - - -_Here’s the Final, Thrilling Installment of_ - -THE MOON TERROR - -_By_ A. G. BIRCH - - _The first half of this story was published in the May issue - of WEIRD TALES. A copy will be mailed by the publishers for - twenty-five cents._ - - SUMMARY OF THE FIRST INSTALLMENT - - The earth is rocked to its foundation, and the end of the world - is threatened, by a mysterious, unseen power known only as - “KWO.” At regular intervals, gigantic earthquakes and tidal - waves visit the earth, destroying great cities and spreading - terror. Dr. Ferdinand Gresham, American astronomer, attributes - all this to the Seuen-H’Sin, a Chinese sect with which he is - familiar. Finally, when the life of the world seems doomed, - he gains permission from the U. S. Navy Department to proceed - in the destroyer, Albatross, to the lair of “KWO” and do - everything possible to stop the world-wide havoc. Accompanied - by his friend, Arthur (who tells the story), the astronomer - sails to a lonely spot in the frozen North, where they discover - the diabolical power plant of “KWO.” It has developed, - meanwhile, that “KWO” and his sorcerers are moon worshipers and - are endeavoring to create a second moon by splitting the earth - in two. In the Moon God’s Temple Dr. Gresham and his friend, - disguised as Chinese, witness the weird rites of the sect, in - which a human being is sacrificed, and then their identity is - discovered. Attacked, they flee back toward their ship, but - the earth seems suddenly to open, and Arthur is swallowed in a - black pit. - - CHAPTER NINE STARTS FROM THIS POINT - - -_CHAPTER IX_ - -IN THE SORCERERS’ POWER - -What happened immediately after that first drop into the abyss I do not -know. My only recollection is of hurtling down a steep incline amid a -smothering avalanche of dirt, of striking heavily upon a rocky ledge, and -of bounding off again into the inky void as my senses left me. - -The next thing I knew was the slow dawn of a sensation of cold; and then -my eyes fluttered open and I beheld the moon shining upon me through a -rent in the surrounding blackness. At first I was too dazed to comprehend -anything that had occurred, but soon, with considerable pain, I raised -myself upon one elbow and looked about, whereupon understanding gradually -returned. - -The place where I lay was a mud-covered ledge upon one of the steep, -sloping walls of a huge chasm that had opened in the earth. The gash -was probably seventy-five feet across at this point, and above me the -walls soared perhaps a hundred feet. Within arm’s reach the shelf that -supported me broke off in a precipice. I was half imbedded in soft mud, -and was soaked to the skin and nearly frozen. - -How long I had lain there I could not tell, but I judged it had not been -more that two or three hours, for the moon still was high in the heavens. - -All at once, as I gazed upon the weird scene, my heart leaped with -anguish at remembrance of my vanished comrade, Dr. Ferdinand Gresham. -He had dropped before me into the chasm, and therefore must have fallen -clear of the ledge and plunged into the depths! - -Thrusting myself to the edge of the precipice, I peered below. Nothing -rewarded my gaze except horrifying silence and vapory gloom. The pain of -the movement was so intense that I fell back almost in a swoon. - -Before long, however, I saw that the moon was drawing near the rim of the -gorge and that I would soon be engulfed in utter darkness, so I turned -my eyes up the jagged wall in search of some means of escape. After -considerable study, I thought I could discern a way to the summit. - -But just then another surprise caught my gaze: the strip of sky above the -chasm appeared narrower than when I had first turned my eyes upward. For -a few moments I attributed this to an optical illusion produced by some -swiftly-moving clouds overhead; but all at once the hideous truth burst -upon me—_the crack in the earth was drawing shut_! - -Heedless of the pain, I flung myself against the cliff—climbing in utter -panic, for fear the chasm would close completely before I could get out. - -The ascent was difficult and perilous in the extreme. Often rocks -loosened beneath my fingers, starting miniature avalanches, and I -flattened myself against the wall in a paroxysm of terror and clung there -until the danger passed. - -For a space that seemed hours long I continued to claw my way upward—with -the prodigious trap closing steadily upon me. At times I found myself -below unscalable surfaces, and was obliged to descend a bit and start -over again in a new direction; and often it seemed as if the pain of my -injuries would cause me to faint. - -When I had come within thirty feet of the top, the climb developed into a -veritable race with death, for the opposite wall was now almost upon me. - -And then, suddenly, I found the way blocked by a sheer, unscalable wall, -upon which only a fly could have found a foothold! Simultaneously I saw -that the moon was right at the rim of the chasm, and that in a minute the -light would vanish. - -With the realization of my plight, panic seized me, and I beat my head -against the wall and shrieked aloud. - -And, though I could not guess it then, that very outcry of despair was to -save my life. - -Hardly had my first shriek gone forth before a head appeared directly -above me, and a voice rang out: - -“Here he is, fellows! Quick with that rope!” - -With leaping heart, I recognized the voice as Dr. Gresham’s! - -An instant later a rope with a loop in the end of it dangled beside me, -and a number of hands reached out to pull me to safety. Another moment, -and I was drawn over the brink—not one second too soon, for as I made the -last dozen feet the closing walls of the pit brushed my body. - -Exhausted and trembling, I sank upon the ground, while a number of -figures crowded about me. These proved to be twenty-five men from the -_Albatross_, under command of Ensign Wiles Hallock. They were all dressed -in the dark blue garments of the sorcerers. How they came to be there was -briefly related by Dr. Gresham. - -When the ground had opened beneath us earlier in the evening, the -astronomer had clutched the roots of a tree, and within a few seconds -after I had dropped from sight he was back on firm ground. The Chinamen -who had been pursuing us had either fallen into the gash or had fled in -terror. - -Considerable vapor was rising from the pit, but the scientist noticed -that this was clearing rapidly, so he decided to linger at the spot -awhile, with the forlorn hope that I might be found. Soon the vapor -vanished and, as the moonlight was shining directly into the crack, the -doctor began a search. - -After a time he discerned a figure lying upon a ledge below. Close -scrutiny revealed that the dark costume characteristic of the Seuen-H’sin -was torn, displaying an orange garment beneath. - -Confident that none of the sorcerers would be wearing two suits at once -in this fashion, the scientist concluded the figure was mine. For a time -he doubted whether I lived, but eventually he thought he saw me stir -feebly, whereupon he began frantic efforts to reach me. - -Repeated attempts to descend the precipice failed. Then he tried dropping -pebbles to arouse me. Again unsuccessful, he risked attracting the -sorcerers back to the spot by shouting into the chasm. - -All his efforts proved futile, so he finally returned to the destroyer -and obtained this rescue party. - -In grateful silence I gripped his hand. - -“Now,” the astronomer concluded, “if you are able to walk, we will get -back to the ship. It is only 1 o’clock, and if we hurry there still is -time to attack the Seuen-H’sin before daylight. Conditions throughout -the world are so alarming that we must put this power plant out of -business without delay!” - -“Go ahead!” I assented. “I’m able to hobble along!” - -It was less than two miles to the destroyer’s anchorage, they said. -During the march none of the sorcerers was sighted, with which we began -to conclude that the cracking of the earth had affected the village on -the other side of the mountain so that all their lookouts had been called -in. - -But suddenly, when we were less than half a mile from the vessel, the -stillness of the night was shattered by the shrill blast of a whistle. -A series of other wild shrieks from the steam chant came in quick -succession. - -“The _Albatross_!” exclaimed Ensign Hallock. “Something’s happening?” - -We burst into a run—the whistle still screaming through the night. - -All at once the sound ceased, and as the echoes died out among the hills -we heard the rattle of firearms. - -“An attack!” cried Hallock. “The sorcerers have attacked the ship!” - -Then, abruptly, the firing, too, died out. - -A few moments later we emerged from the ravine onto the bank of the fiord -and into full view of the destroyer. The passing of the moon into the -west had brought the vessel within its rays—and the sight that greeted us -almost froze our blood! - -Swarming about the deck were dozens of Chinamen—some with rifles, some -with knives. They appeared to be completely in control of the ship. -Numerous pairs of them were coming up from below decks, carrying the -bodies of the vessel’s crew, which they carelessly tossed overboard. -Evidently they had taken our companions by surprise and wiped them out! - -At this sight Ensign Hallock and his men became frenzied with rage. - -“Ready, men!” the officer announced to his followers. “We’re going down -there and give those murderers something to remember!” - -Eagerly the seamen prepared to charge the ship. But Dr. Gresham stopped -them. - -“It’s no use,” he said. “There are hundreds of the sorcerers down -there—and only a handful of us. You would only be throwing away your -lives and defeating the whole purpose of this expedition. We must find a -better way.” - -The astronomer’s counsel prevailed. Whereupon we debated what should be -done. The situation was desperate. Here we were, completely isolated in -a grim wilderness, hundreds of miles from help, and surrounded by hordes -of savage fanatics. Soon, no doubt, the sorcerers’ spies would find us. -And, meanwhile, we were helpless to put an end to the terrors that were -engulfing the planet and its inhabitants. - -So despair gradually took possession of us. Not even the customary -resourcefulness of Dr. Gresham rose to the emergency. - -Suddenly Ensign Hallock gave an exclamation of excitement. - -“_The Nippon!_” he burst out. “Let’s turn the tables on the Chinese, and -seize the _Nippon_! She’s probably got a guard on board, but maybe we can -take it by surprise!” - -“What could we do with her?” I objected. “She needs a large crew—and -there are only twenty-seven of us!” - -“We’ll sail her away, of course!” replied the young naval officer with -enthusiasm. “There must be fuel on board, for her fires are going. Three -of the boys here are apprentice engineers. I can do the navigating. And -the rest of you can take turns stoking the boilers!” - -“But how could we slip past the _Albatross_?” asked Dr. Gresham. - -Ensign Hallock seemed to have thought of that, too, for he promptly -answered: - -“The _Albatross_ is an oil-burning craft, with the new type of burners -that came into use since these Chinks have been stowed away here in the -wilderness. The mechanism for using the oil is quite complicated, and the -sorcerers are likely to have trouble operating her until they figure out -the system. If we reach them before they have time to master the thing, -they will be helpless to stop us!” - -The young man’s enthusiasm was contagious. Dr. Gresham begun to give heed. - -“Even if we fail to get away in the _Nippon_,” the scientist admitted, -“she has a powerful wireless outfit: Kwo-Sung-tao has been using it -to communicate with Washington. With that radio in our hands for ten -minutes, we can summon help sufficient to annihilate these yellow devils!” - -The plan was adopted without further question. And, believing that the -sorcerers’ easy victory over the _Albatross_ had made them careless, -perhaps, we struck out in as direct a course as possible for the spot at -which the _Nippon_ was docked. - -In twenty minutes, without sighting any of the enemy, we arrived at the -edge of the timber behind the wharf. - - -_CHAPTER X_ - -WE TAKE DESPERATE CHANCES - -The great liner lay silent in the moonlight, with no lights visible about -her, but thin columns of smoke rose lazily from her funnels. A gangplank -was down. - -It was decided that our number should divide into three equal parts. One -was to go to the bow and board the craft there by climbing up the line -fastening the ship to the pier; this line was in the shadow except at its -far end, where the men would emerge upon the deck. The second group was -to get aboard at the stern by the same means. And the third detachment -was to advance by the gangplank. - -The plan worked without a hitch, and soon we were assembled upon the -vessel’s main deck. No guard was in sight. Hurriedly, we explored the -upper decks and all the chambers off them. They were empty. - -Then, descending simultaneously by companionways forward, aft and -amidship, we began to search the body of the vessel. Still no one could -be found. - -And this deserted condition of the ship continued until only the -stokehold remained to be entered. Here, however, we were certain of -finding people. - -Leaving three men on deck to guard against surprise, the rest of us crept -into the boiler room. - -Only two Chinamen were in the place, leisurely engaged in stoking the -furnaces. We had them covered with our revolvers before they had any -warning of our approach. - -In spite of the odds against them, one of the Mongolians leaped forward -and had almost struck one of our men with his shovel before a shot killed -him in his tracks. The other Chinaman submitted, and he at once was -securely bound and dumped into a corner. - -Dr. Gresham tried to question the prisoner in Chinese, but all the -information he could get regarding the keeping up of steam on the -_Nippon_ was: “Maybe leave here soon!” - -While the astronomer had been thus engaged, Ensign Hallock and some of -his men were examining the coal bunkers, and they now reported that the -vessel was stocked with fuel for a long voyage. - -At this juncture, one of the deck watch came to announce that the moon -was sinking near the mountaintops, and that if we hoped to get far down -the channel before the light failed we would have to start promptly. - -Detailing eighteen men to do the firing—with orders to get more steam -as rapidly as possible—Ensign Hallock and the rest rushed to the engine -room, where the three apprentice engineers already were at work. Finding -everything all right there, the officer proceeded to the steering room, -while some of us pulled in the gangplank. - -The astronomer and myself next started to find the radio plant, to -get into communication with the Mare Island navy yard. But here -we encountered a set-back: The wireless plant had been removed! -Kwo-Sung-tao, we could only surmise, had moved the set to a spot more -convenient to the village. So, for the present, communication with the -outside world was impossible. - -During this brief period of putting the ship in sailing order, none of -the sorcerers made an appearance; probably all the men they could spare -were exploring the captured destroyer. - -Soon steam was up; whereupon Ensign Hallock sent Dr. Gresham to the bow -and myself to the stern to keep a close lookout, and himself ascended to -the bridge and gave the order to start the engines and cast off. Before -many moments the leviathan was moving away from the wharf. - -The officer had found from the charts that there was a place only half a -mile or so upstream where the fiord opened into a bay, or amphitheater. -There, from all indications, room might be had to turn the ship around -and head her down the channel. For this opening he now set his course. - -Although we maintained a very slow speed, it was not long before we -nosed our way into the bay. Here the walls of the fiord retreated far -enough to form a considerable body of water; nevertheless, it was plain -we would have close work turning the _Nippon_ in such a space. It would -be necessary to steam well over against the north bank, where there no -longer was any moonlight and the shore line was swallowed up in inky -blackness. - -Redoubling the vigilance of our lookout, we began the maneuver. Slowly, -Ensign Hallock swung the huge ship around. Twice it was necessary to stop -and reverse the engines, accomplishing part of the turn by backing. In -doing so, we had a narrow escape from running into a rocky promontory in -the dark. - -But at last the liner’s head was fairly about and the way seemed clear -for our dash down the channel past the _Albatross_. As the officer -signaled for more speed, all of us unconsciously steeled ourselves for -the climax of our adventure. - -But at that instant a deep-toned bell, sounding like the tocsin upon the -Temple of the Moon God, began tolling in the distance. This was followed -almost immediately by a series of sharp blasts from the whistle of the -destroyer. - -Now that we had completed the dangerous turn, my duties in the stern were -finished, so I ran forward, joining Dr. Gresham, and together we climbed -to the bridge. - -“The Chinks must have discovered that their ship is gone!” was the -greeting the young officer gave us. - -He was hardly able to restrain his excitement; the prospect of a brush -with the sorcerers seemed to give him great joy. - -The steam chant and the tolling of the bell continued, as if intended for -a general alarm. - -“Must be getting their gang together!” the ensign remarked. “They’ll be -laying for us now, but we’ll give them a run for their money!” - -The liner now was beginning to get under considerable headway. - -“We’re in dangerous quarters until we get out of this stretch of -darkness!” the officer announced. “Here—you fellows each take a pair of -glasses! You, doctor, keep watch from the starboard end of the bridge! -You”—indicating myself—“go to the port side! Watch like hawks!” - -We started, but—the command had come too late! - -With a dull, long-drawn ripping sound from her interior, the great liner -suddenly staggered and listed heavily to port! We were thrown off our -feet. - -“_Struck a rock!_” Ensign Hallock shouted, as he leaped up. And instantly -he began signaling frantically to stop the engines. Almost in the same -breath he yelled: “Go below—both of you—quick! See what damage has been -done!” - -As we rushed down from the bridge we could tell from the _feel_ of things -that the vessel’s progress had come to a stop: the _Nippon_ was stuck -fast! - -At the head of the stairs leading to the boiler room we met the seamen, -who had been doing stoker duty, rushing up. - -“You can’t go down there!” they shouted. “The whole bottom’s torn out!” - -Nevertheless, we leaped past them and continued below. But near the -bottom of the stairs we were brought up short. A few lights still were -burning, and in their feeble rays we could see huge foaming torrents -pouring into the place. Already the floor was awash to a depth of two or -three feet, and before we could take our eyes from the sight the flood -seemed to rise several inches! Any moment the boilers might explode! - -Up the steps we dashed madly. - -As we reached the deck everyone was hurrying aft. We joined in the rush. - -The tolling of the temple bell and the shrieking of the destroyer’s -whistle continued in the distance: the Seuen-H’sin was preparing to take -up our pursuit! - -Then, before we could make another move, the vessel suddenly lurched -backward and listed heavily to starboard, with her stern rising high out -of the water. Then she began to nose forward under the waves. - -_The Nippon was sinking!_ - - -_CHAPTER XI_ - -A WILD NIGHT’S WORK - -“Lower the boats!” yelled Ensign Hallock. - -The coolness, readiness and energy of this young man in any emergency -were an inspiration. - -All of us flew to obey the command, our number dividing between the two -boats nearest the stern. The liner was sinking so fast that in a few -moments the boats would be afloat, anyway; nevertheless, we soon had our -craft in the water. - -“Take that canvas covering!” bawled the ensign. “We may need it for a -sail!” - -A sailor dragged the canvas into the boat, and we pushed off from the -vessel. - -The other party had encountered trouble with the davit-blocks, which -occasioned a slight delay, and Hallock was just getting his boat into the -water when— - -With a terrific crash, the _Nippon’s_ boilers burst! - -The huge craft broke in two amidship, the central portion of her decks -leaping out of the water. The force of the explosion hurled Ensign -Hallock and his men—lifeboat and all—over the stern amid a hurricane of -débris, while our own craft was flung bottom-up with great violence, -scattering us all about in the water. - -In an incredibly brief time the _Nippon_ slipped from view under the -waves, the swiftness of her sinking causing a violent suction that swept -us into a whirlpool filled with timbers, broken boats and wreckage of all -sorts. - -Something heavy struck me on the head and knocked me almost senseless, -but I clutched a floating object and hung on in a daze. Presently I heard -voices calling not far away and, swimming toward them, I found a couple -of men clinging to the life-boat. Others quickly began to join us—among -them Dr. Gresham. Soon we had the boat righted and found it undamaged. -Someone picked up some oars. - -Then we began rowing about the scene of the wreck, shouting and keeping a -lookout for other survivors. In this way we rescued seven more men—one of -the last of these being Ensign Hallock, who was dazed from a bad cut on -the head. - -After a time, believing further search to be futile, we made our way to -the north bank of the fiord. - -There now were only fifteen of us left—twelve men having perished in the -explosion. While we were roughly dressing the wounds of the injured, -we began to hear excited shouts in Chinese from the other side of the -water, but the width of the fiord here was such as to make the cries -indistinct. As the voices did not draw nearer, we began to believe that -the sorcerers possessed no small boats in which to cross to the scene of -the wreck. This gave us a greater feeling of safety, since the only way -the sorcerers could get at us for the present was by swimming; and not -enough of them were likely to try to constitute a serious menace. - -In the distance the whistling and bell-ringing had now died out. - -Hastily conferring upon what should be done, we decided to stick to the -lifeboat and drop down the channel, hoping to get out of the country of -the Seuen-H’sin before daylight. This course seemed feasible, since the -whole north bank of the fiord—the side opposite the village—was now in -shadow. - -We started at once, rowing along silently, close to the shore. -Occasionally we heard voices on the south bank, but we made no closer -acquaintance with the Chinese. - -As we drew near the _Albatross_, we muffled our oarlocks with bits of -cloth torn from our clothing, and took every precaution against making a -sound. - -A few lights were burning upon the destroyer’s deck, but otherwise she -seemed deserted; possibly the Seuen-H’sin believed we had perished in the -blowing up of the _Nippon_, and that they had nothing more to fear from -intruders. - -All at once, as we began to drop below the vessel, Ensign Hallock gave -an order to cease rowing. Drawing us close together so we could hear his -whispered words, he announced: - -“Boys, let’s try to recapture the _Albatross_!” - -Then, with repressed excitement, he unfolded a plan. - -To our ears the ensign’s words sounded like a proposal of suicide; but -the situation was appallingly desperate, and the upshot of the matter -was that we decided to make the attempt. - -“Who is to go with you?” I asked Hallock. - -Several of the men promptly volunteered, and the ensign selected a -muscular seaman named Jim Burns. - -Agreeing upon a signal that should inform us when to follow them, the -officer and his partner slipped off most of their clothing and, arming -themselves only with knives, swam away. In a few seconds they were lost -from sight. - -From Hallock himself, afterward, I learned the story of their daring -undertaking—although I am certain he greatly minimized the dangers they -ran. - -Reaching the deep shadows beside the destroyer, Hallock and Burns swam -forward to the anchor chain hanging from the bow. There they waited a -time, but, hearing not a sound from above, the officer climbed up the -chain and looked over the edge of the deck. No one was in sight. - -He signaled Burns to come after him. Then, clinging to the edge of the -deck, with their bodies dangling down the side of the hull, out of sight -of anyone above, they worked their way, hand-over-hand, back to a point -opposite the after companionway. Still none of the Chinamen was in -evidence. - -The deck was lighted at this point and the rays of other electric -lamps poured out of the open companionway; nevertheless, the men swung -themselves up, climbed the rail, and darted to the side of the deck -house. Leaving Burns here, Hallock crept alone around the corner to the -companionway. - -Just as he reached the open door he almost collided with a Chinaman -coming up the stairs! - -Both were taken completely by surprise, but the ensign recovered -quickest, and before there was time for an outcry he had the Mongolian by -the throat and was choking the life out of him. - -Soon the fellow crumpled limply upon the deck. Hallock drew his knife to -finish the business—but at that instant there came the sound of voices -approaching along the deck. - -Seizing the unconscious Chinaman by the arms, Hallock dragged him swiftly -around the corner of the deck house to where Burns was waiting. - -Would the approaching men enter the companionway and go below, or come -on back to the stern? In the latter case they were bound to discover the -intruders. - -With drawn knives, the two Americans stood ready; the success or failure -of their whole enterprise depended upon the next few seconds. - -But the Chinamen turned down the steps, and their voices soon died out in -the interior of the vessel. - -Thus assured of safety again for the moment, Ensign Hallock ended the -career of the Mongolian and dragged the body into the deeper shadows -in the stern. Then the two men advanced together to the companionway. -Everything appeared quiet below. - -Down the stairs they noiselessly crept. At the bottom they could faintly -hear voices—seemingly many of them—somewhere forward, or else on the next -lower level. But they did not hesitate. The officer indicated the door of -a compartment only a dozen feet away. They reached it and got inside. - -The room had been converted, during this voyage, into a storeroom. -Among its miscellaneous contents was a quantity of tear bombs—grenades -that discharge a gas which makes the victim’s eyes water until he is -temporarily blinded and helpless. To obtain all these missiles they could -carry was the work of but a few seconds, after which the Americans dashed -for the steps and started to the deck. - -Just as they got halfway up, a couple of Chinamen appeared suddenly in -the passage below and caught sight of them. The Celestials uttered loud -warning cries and darted after the visitors. - -Instantly Seaman Burns, who was behind, hurled one of the bombs to the -floor at the foot of the ladder—and then another and another. - -The sorcerers halted a moment, surprised by the missiles—and before they -could resume their rush they were blinded by tears. Screaming in rage and -dismay, they retreated down the passage toward the other voices that were -beginning to respond to their cries. - -With this, Burns ran on up to the deck. - -“Stay here and hold this stairway!” ordered Hallock. “I’ll go forward to -the other ladder! Don’t let any of them reach the deck!” - -And the officer ran off. - -He reached the forward companionway just as half a dozen of the Chinamen -were crowding toward the foot of the stairs. A couple of the bombs hurled -among them drove them back. Two more missiles followed; then Hallock -slammed the door shut and fastened it. - -Running to the rail, he signaled us to advance. In two or three minutes -our rowboat was alongside and we were scrambling up the anchor chain. - -On the main deck, under the bridge, formerly had been stored a number of -rifles, and Hallock now ran to see if these were still there. Luckily -the Chinamen had not disturbed them, and the officer soon was back with a -loaded weapon for each man. - -“The effect of the tear gas must be wearing off below,” he announced, -“so we can go down now and clean up those devils! But confine all your -shooting under decks, where it’s not so likely to be heard on shore!” - -“And,” interposed Dr. Gresham, “don’t show a spark of mercy, or we will -be certain to pay dearly for it later!” - -Leaving six men on deck to keep watch, the rest of us divided and went -down fore and aft. The gas still was strong, but no longer overpowering. -The Chinese, we found, had groped their way into the engine room. Here we -came upon them—forty-eight in all. - -Upon the scene of slaughter that followed I will draw the veil. Thus the -Seuen-H’sin had slain our comrades—and we knew that, were our positions -now reversed, we would meet the same bloody end. Suffice it to say -that within fifteen minutes the last of the sorcerers’ bodies had been -disposed of overboard. - -Once more we were masters of the _Albatross_! - -Our first move, we decided, would be to steam down the channel a few -miles, where the Mongolians could not immediately get at us. Fortunately, -two of the apprentice engineers were among the survivors, and they -undertook to handle the machinery. - -At the same time, Hallock and most of the crew went to work setting up -rapid fire guns in convenient places to repel invasion, and storing -ammunition and hand grenades on deck. A couple of the larger guns -likewise were unlimbered, ready for action. - -By the time these tasks were completed, steam had been gotten up, and the -vessel began its retreat down the channel. - -Meanwhile, Dr. Gresham and myself hastened to the radio room to summon -aid from the Mare Island navy yard at San Francisco. - -But barely had the astronomer placed the receivers to his ears and -reached forward to adjust the apparatus, before a startling event -forestalled his call. - - -_CHAPTER XII_ - -THE VOICE OF SCIENCE - -At the precise instant when Dr. Gresham seated himself at the radio of -the _Albatross_, the great Consolidated News Syndicate, which dealt with -newspapers all over the world, was broadcasting a “flash” of terrible -import: - -_An hour ago New York had been wiped out by a stupendous tidal wave!_ - -Details of the disaster still were lacking. - -And then, before the astronomer could lift a hand to send his call, some -instantaneous and terrific disturbance of the atmosphere blotted out all -wireless communication! - -What this disturbance might be, or what it might portend, seemed to -arouse in my companion the gravest alarm. His face looked ashen as he sat -there at the key. Over and over he sought to get Mare Island, but without -success: the ether was as unresponsive as if his instruments were dead. - -Presently he rose without a word and, motioning me to follow, sought -Ensign Hallock on the bridge. Briefly he told the young officer about the -destruction of Manhattan, adding: - -“Something serious has happened somewhere in the world, since then, -completely to disorder the atmosphere. It may be the earth’s final -struggle for existence. Unless the Seuen-H’sin’s power is broken _at -once_, the end is near! It is too late to wait for reinforcements. We -must tackle the job ourselves—at any cost! The question is: how are we -going to do it?” - -Hallock thought a few moments, and then replied: - -“We can’t bomb the place from an airplane, because we brought no airplane -bombs. And we can’t shell it with the ship’s guns without knowing its -exact location. Our planes aren’t equipped with range finders, either—so -it would do no good to try to locate it from the air. - -“That,” he added with decision, “leaves us no choice but a direct attack!” - -“Well,” responded Dr. Gresham, “at any cost, we’ve got to try!” - -At once we consulted the ship’s charts—and made a discovery. - -Not far below our present location, a tributary fiord entered Dean -Channel from the left, and with sudden hope we saw that this waterway -twisted back among the mountains for several miles—reaching a point -in one of its windings where it was not more than six or seven miles -directly south of the region in which the power plant was hidden. - -“There’s our chance!” Hallock announced. “If the sorcerers have missed -the _Albatross_, they’ll think we are on our way out of the country as -fast as we can travel. They won’t be expecting us to come back so soon—in -broad daylight. We can steam up this side channel to the proper spot and -then march across the mountains until we find the plant.” - -“Good!” assented the scientist. “They are less likely to be on guard -against an attack from that side, anyway!” - -Day was now beginning to break, which made further navigation easy. In -a few minutes we came to the tributary inlet, and swung the vessel in -between its high, constricted walls. - -The ensign was now imbued with marvelous activity. Orders flew thick and -fast. A couple of the machine guns were made ready for land transport. -Two light mountain mortars and a quantity of ammunition were brought up -on deck. A supply of shrapnel hand grenades was distributed among the men. - -Our progress through this tortuous waterway necessarily was slow; -nevertheless, at the end of an hour and a half, the destroyer was stopped -and we made ready for the final adventure. - -It was decided that all fifteen of us should go, because less than that -number could not carry our equipment up and down the steep mountainsides, -and three or four men left to guard the ship would be utterly useless in -the event of an attack. - -So, with every nerve alert, we struck out through the trackless -wilderness. - -Three hours later we came upon six large steel conduits which we knew -must convey the water power to the plant, and in a few minutes we had -followed these to our goal. - -Here we found ourselves upon the brow of a promontory directly behind and -fully 300 feet above the Seuen-H’sin’s workshop. The promontory ended in -a sheer precipice, from the outermost curve of which the conduits dropped -straight down into the powerhouse. This tremendous fall of the six -streams of water supplied the enormous energy to the turbines. The summit -of this projecting ridge was fairly level, and for a distance of perhaps -seventy-five yards at the end the timber had been entirely cleared away. - -Extending out from the brow of the precipice, and resting upon the tops -of the conduits where they plunged downward, was a narrow bridge of iron -lattice-work which connected all six of the pipes and gave access to the -bolts which tightened the steel elbows. Through holes in this grating, -iron ladders fastened between the pipes and the granite cliff back of -them descended clear to the bottom of the precipice. - -A slight rail only three feet high protected the outer edge of this -grid—a little hand-hold for the workmen in case of a misstep. From this -dizzy balcony it would be possible to drop a stone almost upon the roof -of the powerhouse. - -After a quick look around, Ensign Hallock chose a spot a little back from -the cliff to set up the mortars that were to throw explosives upon the -building. He also prepared to place mines under the conduits. But first -the machine guns were planted to command the surrounding timber, in case -of an attack. - -There still was no indication that the sorcerers suspected our presence -in their vicinity; so, inasmuch as Hallock said his preparations would -take some little time, Dr. Gresham determined to employ the interval in -getting a closer look at the power plant. - -One of the ladders down the precipice, he had noticed, was in such -a position behind its water main that it could not be seen from the -building; and he decided to attempt the approach by this means. To my -delight, he made no objection to my accompanying him. - -As we slipped through an opening in the iron bridge and started our dizzy -descent of the ladder—which seemed to sway beneath our weight—I felt a -thrill of exultation, in spite of our peril, at the thought that at last -we were to solve the mystery of the Seuen-H’sin’s terrible power over our -planet! - -The trip was slow and risky, but finally we came abreast of a window in -the rear wall of the building, and by stretching around the side of the -thick water main we could see into the place. - -The workshop of the sorcerers was a long, low, narrow structure directly -beside the river. Like the houses back in the Chinese village, it was a -mere shell of corrugated iron, its steel framework so bolted together -that it could sway with the earth tremors. - -In a row down the centre of the structure were six huge turbines, -operating electric generators. - -Along one side of the room was the largest switchboard I had ever seen, -while the whole of the other lengthwise wall was flanked with a series of -massive induction coils, elaborately insulated from each other and from -the ground. Although I knew little about electricity, I was certain that -if the combined electrical output of those dynamos were directed through -that maze of coils, the resulting voltage could only be measured in the -millions—perhaps hundreds of millions! - -From one large, enclosed object, supported on steel uprights over the -row of induction coils, two electric cables, more than two inches in -diameter, ran off through the north end of the building. One of these -ended in a tiny structure about eighty yards from the powerhouse. The -other ran on up the valley. - -But, most curious of all, in the center of the switchboards was an -apparatus surmounted by a large clock, before which a Chinese attendant -sat constantly. Precisely every eleven minutes and six seconds a bell on -this clock clanged sharply, and there was a bright flash in a long glass -tube, followed by an earth shock. - -For some time we clung there in the shadows, while Dr. Gresham studied -every detail of the amazing workshop. Then, calling my attention to the -fact that the place outside the powerhouse, where one of the cables -ended, was hidden from view of the attendants inside by a thick clump of -trees, the astronomer said he wanted a closer look at this place. - -Creeping through the timber, we reached the tiny structure over the -cable’s end. Not the slightest watch seemed to be kept anywhere about the -plant. The door to the house was not fastened, so we entered and looked -hurriedly about. - -The room was absolutely empty except for the heavy cable, which came to -the center of the floor and there connected with a copper post about four -inches in diameter that ran straight down into the ground. - -Without lingering further, we crawled back to the ladder and commenced -our long climb up the cliff. - -Upon reaching the top again, we found the ensign and his men still busy -with their preparations for the bombardment. Withdrawing far enough to be -out of their hearing, the astronomer turned to me and remarked: - -“Well, what do you think of the scientific achievements of the sorcerers -now?” - -“I don’t know what to think!” I replied. “It’s utterly beyond my -comprehension!” - -The doctor chuckled at my dismay. - -“Forgive me,” he said, “for having kept you so long in the dark. -Until today I could never prove my theories—certain as I was of their -correctness—and I did not wish to attempt any explanations until I -was sure of my ground. But now you have seen enough to understand the -solution of the puzzle.” - -To my delight, the scientist was dropping into one of his most -communicative moods. After a moment he went on: - -“To comprehend, even in a general way, what the Seuen-H’sin has done, you -must understand the principle of resonance. - -“Let us start with the swinging pendulum of a clock. What keeps it in -motion? Nothing but a slight push, delivered at exactly the right time. -Any swinging object can be kept swinging, even though it weigh many -tons, if it is given a touch by the finger of a baby at _just the right -moment_. By the same principle, the amount of swing can be increased -enormously if the successive pushes are correctly timed. - -“But we need not limit our illustration to swinging objects. Everything -in the word has a natural period of vibration, whether it be a violin -string, or a battleship, or a forty-story skyscraper. - -“Fifty men can capsize a twenty-thousand-ton battleship merely by running -back and forth from one side of the deck to the other and carefully -timing their trips to the vessel’s rolling. A child with a tack hammer -can shake down a forty-story skyscraper if he can discover the natural -period of the building’s vibration and then tap persistently upon the -steel framework at the correct interval. - -“Even the earth itself has its natural period of vibration. - -“If you exploded a ton of dynamite on top of the ground it would blow -quite a hole and jar the earth for several miles around it; and that -would be all. But if you set off another ton of dynamite, and then -another and another, and kept it up continuously—always timing the -explosions to the period of the earth’s vibration—eventually the jar -would be felt clear through the globe. And if you still persisted, in -time you would wreck the world. - -“Such is the accumulative power of many little blows correctly timed. -The principle of timing small impulses to produce large effects is the -principle of resonance. - -“But there are other forces in nature which can produce -vibration—electricity, for instance, Nikola Tesla demonstrated a number -of years ago that the globe is resonant to electric waves. - -“Now, suppose some person constructed an apparatus that could suddenly -turn a tremendous flood of electric waves into the earth. That energy -would go clear through the globe, imparting a tiny impulse to every atom -of matter of which the sphere is composed—like a push upon the pendulum -of a clock. - -“And suppose that person knew the exact period of the earth’s vibration, -and sent another bolt, and another and another, into the globe—all -exactly timed to impart a fresh impulse at the correct moment—to give -the pendulum another push, so to speak. Then let him pile electric -impulse upon electric impulse, each at just the right second, until the -accumulation of them all represented millions of horsepower in electric -oscillations. In time, _the world would be shaken to pieces_! - -“And—impossible as it sounds—that is the very principle the Seuen-H’sin -is using there beneath your eyes! The dynamos furnish the power, and that -great battery of induction coils magnifies it to an almost inconceivable -voltage. By those cables attached to copper plugs, the impulses are -conveyed to the earth. - -“Every blow of that tremendous electric hammer is heavier than the -preceding one because it has the accumulated power of all the others -behind it. With every blow the earth grows weaker—less able to stand the -shock. Continued, the planet’s doom would be inevitable—if it is not -already so!” - -I had been listening to this recital with amazement too profound to admit -of interruption. When Dr. Gresham finished I sat silent, turning it -all over in my mind, and reflecting how simple the explanation seemed. -Finally— - -“Was it those electric waves being discharged into the ground,” I asked, -“that Professor Howard Whiteman in Washington mistook for wireless -signals from Mars?” - -“Precisely!” was the answer. - -“And how,” I inquired, “was it possible for the sorcerers to discover -the exact period of the earth’s vibration? That seems little short of -superhuman.” - -“Doubtless you remember the newspaper accounts published that night -when we returned from Labrador,” replied the doctor. “They told how the -electric whispers, when first noticed, occurred exactly two minutes -apart; then the interval increased one minute each night until the -signals were separated by more than thirty minutes; afterward the lulls -altered erratically for some time, until they became fixed at eleven -minutes and six seconds.” - -“Yes,” I assented. - -“Well,” continued the scientist, “those variations simply denoted the -experiment of the Seuen-H’sin to ascertain the period of the globe’s -vibration. If, after continuing their discharges all one night, their -seismographs showed no response from the earth, they knew their bolts -were wrongly timed, and they experimented with another period. - -“Eventually they found that their impulses penetrated the earth with a -speed of approximately 709 miles a minute—in other words, in precisely -eleven minutes and six seconds the waves passed clear through the -plant. This, then, was demonstrated to be the length of time that must -elapse before the pendulum—figuratively speaking—could be given another -electrical push. You saw just now, on the switchboard down there, the -clockwork apparatus which times those bolts.” - -After a moment’s consideration I remarked: - -“Your own electrical equipment on board the _Albatross_—those big -induction coils and the rest of it—what did you plan to do with that?” - -“I had meant to fight the Seuen-H’sin with its own methods,” the -doctor replied. “I was going to throw a high-power electric current -into the earth at intervals between those of the sorcerers’—say five -minutes apart. That would have interfered with the acceleration of the -vibrations—like setting a second group of men to run across the ship’s -deck between the trips of the first group. One set of vibrations would -have neutralized the other. - -“But,” Dr. Gresham added, “the time for such methods is past. We must end -the whole thing immediately—at one stroke!” - -Receiving a signal from Ensign Hallock that he was ready, we started to -rejoin the ship’s party. But before we had gone a dozen steps we were -rooted to the spot by a new terror! - -Off in the east, where the snow-covered peaks lifted into the sky, -suddenly burst forth an awful crashing sound, as of a colossal -cannonade—a ponderous and unbroken thunder-roll, terrible as the enormous -tumult of the day of doom. As our gaze followed the nightmare sounds to -the edge of the world we beheld the lofty mountains oscillate, crack, -disjoint, and crumble into seething ruin. - -The noise that accompanied this destruction came roaring and booming -across the intervening miles—a stupendous and unearthly commotion, -shattering the very atmosphere to fragments. - -For a minute Dr. Gresham stood petrified. But as the enormity of the -cataclysm became evident, an unconscious cry, almost a groan, escaped him: - -“Too late! Too late! The beginning of the end!” - -Suddenly he wheeled—almost livid with excitement—to the naval officer and -screamed at the lop of his voice: - -“_Fire!_ For God’s sake destroy that power plant! _Fire! FIRE!_” - - -_CHAPTER XIII_ - -PLAYING OUR FINAL CARD - -In their astonishment at the terrible upheaval, Ensign Hallock and his -men had left their posts and crowded toward the end of the promontory, a -few feet away from the mortars. At Dr. Gresham’s command to fire, most of -them leaped to obey the order. - -Instantly the woods behind us sprang into life as a horde of Chinamen -dashed from cover, charging straight at us! - -From the size of the attacking force, it was evident our presence had -been known for some time and our capture delayed until a sufficient -number of the sorcerers could be assembled to insure our defeat: there -seemed to be scores of the blue-clad figures. Most of them were armed -with rifles, although some had only knives and a few iron bars which they -wielded as clubs. - -The distance across the clearing was not much more than 200 feet, and the -Chinamen advanced at a run—without any outcry. - -But before they had traversed a quarter of the space Ensign Hallock -recovered from his surprise and, with a few terse commands, led his crew -into action. Dashing to the machine guns, the seamen threw themselves -flat on the ground; and while some manned these weapons, the rest -resorted to their revolvers. In two or three seconds the booming of the -distant cataclysm was augmented by a steady volley of firing. - -With deadly effect the machine guns raked the advancing semi-circle of -Mongolians. As the foremost line began suddenly to melt away, the rest -of the sorcerers wavered and presently came to a halt. They now were not -more than a hundred feet from us. At a command, they all dropped down -upon the ground, the ones with rifles in front, and began to return our -fire. - -I had drawn my revolver and joined in the fight—and so had Dr. Gresham -beside me. But in our excitement we had remained on our feet, and I now -heard the astronomer shouting at me: - -“Lie down! _Lie down!_” - -Even as I dropped, my hat was knocked off by a bullet; but, unharmed, I -stretched out and continued shooting. - -Pausing to slip a fresh magazine of cartridges into my automatic, I -suddenly became aware that a vast wind was starting to blow out of the -east; the very air seemed alive and quivering. - -The Chinamen still outnumbered us heavily, and all at once I -realized—chiefly from the lessening of our fire—that their rifle attack -was beginning to take effect. Glancing about, I saw five or six of the -seamen lying motionless. - -At this juncture one of the machine guns jammed, and while its crew was -trying to fix it the yellow devils took toll of several more of our men. -I now saw that only six of us were left to fight. - -Simultaneously I became half conscious of a strange, mysterious something -going on about us—a subtle, ghostly change, not on the earth itself, but -in the air above—some throbbing, indefinable suggestion of impending -doom—of the end of things. - -Snatching a glance over my shoulder, I saw arising upon the eastern -horizon a black, monstrous cloud of appalling aspect—a spuming billow of -sable mist—twisting, flying, lifting into the heavens with tremendous -speed. And each moment the wind was growing mere violent. - -Was this, after all, to be the finish? Was the world—the white man’s -world, which we had fought so hard to save—to go to smash through these -yellow devils’ fiendishness? Having come within actual sight of the -machinery that was the cause of it all, was our task to remain unfinished? - -With a terrible cold fury clutching at my heart, I crawled quickly -forward, discharging my revolver steadily as I went, to lend a hand with -the disabled machine gun. - -But as I reached it Ensign Hallock dropped the weapon, with a gesture of -uselessness, and moved quickly back to the mortars. Out of the corner -of my eye I saw him trying to fire the things, and a wave of fierce joy -seized me. - -But the task caused the naval officer to half raise himself from the -ground, and as he did so I saw him clutch at a bleeding gash on his head -and fall forward, where he lay still. - -An instant later the Chinamen leaped to their feet with a loud cry -and charged upon us. They, too, were greatly reduced in numbers, but -there were only four of us now, so nothing remained but an attempt at -retreat. As we did so we began hurling our hand grenades, all the while -moving slowly in the only direction we could go—toward the brink of the -precipice. - -Suddenly, above the crack of the rifles and the exploding of the -grenades, an enormous roaring burst forth in the east—a sinister -screaming of immeasurable forces, moaning, hooting, shrieking across the -world—the weird, awful voice of the wounded planet’s stupendous agony. - -This new terror attracted so much attention that there was a momentary -pause in the sorcerers’ onslaught, and in that brief lull I noted that -our grenades had wrought terrible havoc among the Chinamen, reducing -their number to a mere handful. Dr. Gresham saw this at the same time, -and shouted to us to let them have it again with the missiles. - -Apparently sensing the purport of this command, the Chinamen sprang -forward, seeking to engage us at too close range for the grenades to be -used. But several of the missiles met them almost at their first leap, -and when the hurricane of shrapnel abated, there remained only three of -the yellow fiends to continue the attack. - -But at the same time I made the grim discovery that on our side Dr. -Gresham and myself alone survived! - -With the realization that it had now come to a hand-to-hand encounter, -I braced myself to meet the shock as the trio darted forward. I somehow -felt that nothing mattered any longer, anyway, for so tremendous had -become the earth-tumult that it seemed impossible the planet could resist -disruption many minutes more. - -Nevertheless, the passions of a wild animal surged within me; a sort of -madness steeled my muscles. - -One powerful, thick-set Chinaman leaped upon Dr. Gresham and the two -went down in a striking, clawing test of strength. A second later the -remaining pair hurled themselves upon me. - -I whipped out my revolver just as one fellow seized me from the front, -and, pressing the weapon against his body, I fired. In a moment he -relaxed his hold and crumpled down at my feet. The other chap now had me -around the neck from the rear and was shutting off my wind. Round and -round we staggered, as I vainly sought to loosen his hold. Before long -everything went black in front of me and I thought I was done for—when I -heard faintly, in a daze, the crack of a revolver. Quickly the grip about -my neck fell away. - -When I began to come to myself again I saw Ensign Hallock sitting up on -the ground, his face covered with blood, but wielding the revolver that -had ended the career of my last adversary. - -At the same time I saw that the officer was trying desperately to train -his weapon upon something behind me. Looking about, I saw Dr. Gresham and -his opponent rolling over and over on the ground, almost at the edge of -the precipice, struggling frantically for possession of a knife. Because -of their rapid changes of position, Hallock dared not shoot, for fear of -hitting the scientist. - -Just then the Chinaman came on top for an instant, and I leaped forward, -aiming my revolver at him. The trigger snapped, but there was no report. -The weapon was empty. - -Less than a dozen feet now separated me from the wrestlers, when the -Celestial suddenly jerked the knife free and raised it for a swift stroke. - -With all my strength I hurled the empty revolver at the yellow devil. It -struck him squarely between the eyes. The knife dropped and he clutched -at his face, at the same time struggling to his feet to meet the new -attack. - -Freed from the struggle, Dr. Gresham’s figure relaxed as in a swoon. - -Instantly I was after the Chinaman—without a thought of his bull-like -strength. I was seeing red. The furious joy of the primeval man -hunter—the lust for blood—turned my head. My one idea was to kill. - -Leaping over the prostrate scientist, I flung myself at the last of the -sorcerers. He had retreated three or four feet, and now stood at bay upon -the iron bridge that ran along the top of the water mains, overhanging -the precipice. As I dashed at him he stepped quickly aside. I missed -him—and my heart leaped into my throat as I stumbled across the perilous -eyrie and brought up against the outer rail, which seemed to sway. - -I staggered, seized the rod, and saved myself. Far, far below, jagged -rocks and the roof of the Seuen-H’sin’s powerhouse greeted my gaze. - -And at the same time—although I was not conscious of paying attention -to it—I became sensible of the fact that the monstrous cloud above the -horizon was soaring swiftly, beating its black wings close to the sun—and -that a weird twilight, a ghostly gloom, was settling over everything. -From the distance, too, still came that appalling uproar. - -As I recovered my balance the Chinaman bounded at me. But his foot caught -in the grating and he stumbled to his knees. Instantly I threw myself -upon him. My knee bored into the small of his back; my fingers sank into -his throat. _I had him!_ If I could keep my hold a little while the life -would be strangled from his body. - -In spite of his disadvantage, the fellow staggered to his feet. And there -above the void—upon that narrow steel framework, protected only by its -leg-high rail—we began a life-and-death struggle. - -I hung on, like a mountain lion upon the back of its prey, while the -Chinaman lurched and twisted this way and that. - -Once he staggered against the railing, lost his footing, swung around—and -I hung out over empty space, a drop of fully 300 feet. I thought the end -had come—that we would topple off into the void. But his mighty strength -pulled us back upon the grating—the whole slight structure seeming to -sway and creak as he did so. - -I tightened my grip upon his throat, digging my fingers into his -windpipe, until I felt the life ebbing out of him in a steady flow. My -own strength was almost gone, but the primitive desire to kill kept me -clinging there tenaciously. - -At last he began to weaken. In his death throes he lurched about in -a circle—until his foot slipped through a man-hole above one of the -ladders, and he fell across the rail with a choking moan. With me hanging -upon his back he began to slip outward and downward, inch by inch. - -I knew the end had come. He was falling—and I was falling with him. -But thoughts of my own death were smothered in a wild rejoicing. I had -conquered this yellow fiend! Everything grew blurred before my eyes as we -sagged toward the final plunge into the gorge. - -Suddenly my ankles were seized in a stout grip, and I felt myself being -dragged back from the sickening void. With this, I loosened my hold upon -the Chinaman’s throat, and his body went hurtling past me to its doom. - -Another instant and I was off the rocking bridge, upon solid ground, and -Dr. Ferdinand Gresham was shaking me in an effort to restore my senses. - -He had recovered from his own fainting spell just in time to save me from -being dragged over the cliff. - -Swiftly I drew myself together. The weird twilight was deepening. But -a few feet away I beheld Ensign Hallock busy at the mortars and mines, -preparing to touch them off. - -He motioned to us to run. We did so. In a moment his work was finished -and he took after us. - -Back along the ridge we fled, away from the danger of the coming blast. - -A couple of hundred yards distant, and about fifty feet below us, a bare -promontory jutted out from the hillside, affording an unobstructed view -of the whole region—the crumbling mountains upon the horizon, the power -plant at the base of the cliff, and the bare space behind us where the -mines were about to end the career of the sorcerers’ workshop. - -We started to descend to this plateau—when suddenly I dragged my -companions back and pointed excitedly below, exclaiming: - -“_Look! Look!_” - -There in the center of the promontory, seemingly all alone, stood -the arch fiend of all this havoc—the high priest of the sorcerers, -Kwo-Sung-tao! - -Apparently the old fellow had chosen this spot whence he could view in -safety his followers’ attack upon our party. He had not heard my outcry -behind him, and remained absorbed in the Titanic upheaval of the distant -mountains. - -As I looked down upon his shriveled figure, a wave of savage joy swept -over me! At last fate was strangely playing into our hands! Quite -unsuspecting, the most menacing figure of the ages—the master mind of -diabolical achievement, the would-be “dictator of human destiny”—had been -cast into our net for final vengeance! - -Just then the mortars boomed, and two charges of high explosives went -hurtling toward the roof of the powerhouse. - -Kwo-Sung-tao wheeled and stared off toward the opposite promontory. -Seeing nothing, he hesitated in alarm. He did not look around in our -direction. - -Another instant and the explosives fell squarely upon the roof of the -building, and with two frightful detonations—so close together that they -seemed almost as one—the whole structure burst asunder vanished in a -flying tornado of débris. For a few moments nothing was visible save a -tremendous geyser of dirt, steel, concrete and bits of machinery. - -While the air was filled with this gust of wreckage, my gaze sped back to -the leader of the Seuen-H’sin. - -The old man stood stock still, petrified by this sudden destruction of -all his hopes and work. What agony of soul he was enduring in that moment -I could only guess. His mummified figure suddenly to have shriveled -unbelievably—to be actually withering before our eyes! - -Just then the mines under the water mains went off, ripping the conduits -to tatters—and the immense hydraulic force, suddenly released, roared -down the precipice, tearing the ground at the bottom of the gorge away to -the foundation rock and obliterating the last scrap of wreckage! - -Almost at the same moment Dr. Gresham left us and plunged down the -slope toward the high priest, as if to settle the score with him alone. -Recovering from our surprise, we followed rapidly. - -Apparently sensing the danger, Kwo-Sung-tao suddenly glanced around. As -he beheld Dr. Gresham he pulled himself together and I saw a look of -malignity come over his face such as I never before nor since have seen -upon a human countenance! It was as if he sought to blast his enemy with -a glance! - -The demoniacal fury of that gaze actually caused the astronomer to -slacken his rush. - -Promptly the old sorcerer’s hand darted beneath his robe and came out -with a revolver. But before the weapon could be aimed I had snatched -a hand grenade and hurled at the Chinaman. The missile flew over him, -exploding some feet away; but a bit of its metal must have hit the old -fellow, inflicting a serious wound, for he dropped the revolver and -clutched at his side. - -As he did so he turned his eyes upon me—and the blood seemed to freeze -within my veins! Not to my dying day shall I forget the awful power of -that look! - -But only for a second did this last—for I had already drawn another -grenade and was in the act of hurling it. This time the bomb fell -directly at the feet of the high priest and burst with deadly force. - -Even while the old man’s eyes were boring through me with that unearthly -fury, Kwo-Sung-tao was blown to fragments! - -An instant later the sun vanished, and a ghostly semi-night fell like a -thunderbolt! - - * * * * * - -It was several days later when Dr. Ferdinand Gresham, Ensign Hallock and -myself returned to the Mare Island navy yard at San Francisco. - -And there, for the first time, we learned that the world remained intact -and was out of danger. - -When we had ascertained that we three were the only survivors of our -expedition, we had started wandering over the mountains through the -semi-darkness until we found the destroyer. Unable to navigate the -vessel, we had taken the hydroplane, which Hallock knew how to handle, -and started south. Engine trouble had prolonged our trip. - -Back from the grave, as it seemed, we listened with tremendous elation to -the story of the wounded planet’s convalescence. - -That last terrible upheaval, just before the destruction of the -sorcerers’ power plant, had seemed for a time to be the actual beginning -of the end. But, instead, it had proved to be the climax—after which the -earthquakes had begun rapidly to die out. Scientists now declared that -before long the earth would regain its normal stability. - -With our return, the story of the Seuen-H’sin was given to the public. -So universal became the horror with which that sect was regarded that an -international expedition proceeded into China and dealt vigorously with -the sorcerers. - -The tremendous changes that had been wrought in the surface of the planet -presently lost their novelty. - -And New York and other cities that had been destroyed, or partially so, -speedily were rebuilt. - -Here I must not omit one other strange incident connected with these -events. - -One evening, nearly two years after our encounter with the sorcerers, -Dr. Gresham and I were sitting at the window of his New York apartment, -idly watching the moon rise above the range of housetops to the east of -Central Park. - -Suddenly I began to stare at the disk with rapt interest. Clutching the -astronomer by the sleeve, I exclaimed excitedly: - -“Look there! Odd I never noticed it before! The face of the Man in the -Moon is the living image of that Chinese devil, Kwo-Sung-tao!” - -“Yes!” agreed Dr. Gresham with a shudder. “And it makes my flesh creep -even to look at it!” - - -THE END - - - - -Men Sing Hymn As They Go To Death - - -Marooned on a floating ice cake in the Missouri River, with all hope of -rescue gone, Harvey McIntosh and his brother, Tom, of Mondamin, Iowa, -bravely sang, “Nearer My God to Thee,” while the ice floe carried them to -a swift and certain death. Their friends lined either side of the river, -but were unable to reach them. Night came on, and from the darkness came -the strains of the old hymn, which gradually grew fainter and then ended -in silence. - - - - -_In All the World There Was No Man Quite Like This One_ - -The Man the Law Forgot - -_By_ WALTER NOBLE BURNS - - -The jail was silent. Boisterous incoherencies that in the day made the -vast gloomy pile of stone and iron a bedlam—talk, curses, laughter—were -stilled. - -The prisoners were asleep in their cells. Dusty electric bulbs at sparse -intervals made a dusky twilight in the long, hushed corridors. Moonlight, -shimmering through the tall, narrow windows, laid barred, luminous -lozenges on the stone floors. - -From the death cell in “Murderers’ Row,” the voice of Guisseppi rose in -the still night watches in the _Miserere_. Its first mellow notes broke -the slumberous silence with dulcet crashes like the breaking of ice -crystals beneath a silver hammer. Vibrating through the cavernous spaces -of the sleeping prison, the clear boyish voice lifting the burden of the -solemn hymn was by turns a tender caress, a flight of white wings up into -sunny skies, a silver whisper stealing through the glimmering aisles, a -swift stream of plashing melody, a flaming rush of music. - -“_A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise._” The -prayer in its draperies of melody filled the cells like a shining -presence and laid its blessing of hope upon hopeless hearts. From the -shadow of the gallows, Guisseppi poured forth his soul in music that was -benediction and farewell. - -Bitter memories, like sneering ghosts that elbow one another, crowd -the road to Gallows Hill. In swift retrospect, Guisseppi reviewed his -life’s last tragic phase. Young, with healthy blood dancing gay dances -through his veins, sunny-spirited, spilling over with the happiness and -hopefulness of irresponsibility, he had not despaired when the death -sentence was pronounced. - -The court’s denial of his lawyer’s motion for a new trial left him with -undiminished optimism. Yet a while longer hope sustained him when his old -father and mother kissed him good-by through the bars and set off for the -state capital to intercede with the governor. - -Bowed with years and broken with sorrow, they had pleaded in tears -and on their knees. The venerable father, lost for words, helplessly -inarticulate, the mother with her black shawl over her head, white-faced, -hysterical, both praying for the life of their only son, were a picture -to melt a heart of stone. - -The pathos of it stirred the governor to the depths, but could not make -him forget that for the moment he stood as the incarnation of the law and -the inexorable justice that is the theory of the law. With heavy heart -and misty eyes, he turned away. - -So hope at last had died. And between the death of hope and the death -that awaited him, Guisseppi brooded in the death-cell, bitterly counting -his numbered days as they slipped one by one into the past, each day -bringing him that much nearer to certain annihilation. Round and -round the dial, the hands of the clock on the prison wall went in a -never-ending funeral march; the _tick-tock, tick-tock_ of the pendulum, -measuring off the fateful seconds, echoed in his heart like a death knell. - -Times without number he repeated to himself that he was not afraid to -die. Nevertheless the inevitability of death tortured him. At times, in -sheer terror, he seized the rigid bars of his cell, pounded his fists -against the iron walls, till the blood spurted from his knuckles. He was -like a sparrow charmed by a serpent, fluttering vainly to escape, but -drawing ever nearer to certain death. Black walls of death kept closing -in upon him inexorably, like a mediaeval torture chamber. - -Some men, the experts say, are born criminals; other are made criminals -by some fortuity or crisis of circumstances. Guisseppi had been a happy, -healthy, careless boy. His father was a small shopkeeper of the Italian -quarter who had achieved a certain prosperity. His mother was a typical -Italian mother, meek, long-suffering, tender, her whole life wrapped up -in her boy, her husband and her home. - -Guisseppi had received a good common school education. He had been a -choir boy in Santa Michaela Church, and the range and beauty of his -voice had won him fame even beyond the borders of the colony; musicians -for whom he had sung had grown enthusiastic over his promise and had -encouraged him to study for the operatic stage. - -The exuberance of youth, and love of gayety and adventure, had been -responsible for his first misstep. His companions of the streets had -enticed him into Cardello’s pool room. Cardello, known to the police as -“The Devil,” had noted with a crafty eye the lively youth’s possibilities -as a useful member of his gang. His approaches were subtle—genial -patronage, the pretense of goodfellowship, an intimate glass across a -table. The descent to Avernus was facile. - -Almost before he knew it, Guisseppi was a sworn member of Cardello’s gang -of reckless young daredevils and a participant in their thrilling nightly -adventures. Home lessons were forgotten. His mother lost her influence -over the boy. Even Rosina Stefano, the little beauty of the quarter, who -had claimed all his boyish devotion since school days, had no power to -turn him from his downward course. - -He had been taken by the police after a robbery in which a citizen had -been killed. He was condemned to death. - -“I forgive everybody,” Guisseppi told his death-watch. “Everybody but -‘Devil’ Cardello. If it had not been for him, I would be free and happy -today. He made me a thief. That is his business—teaching young fools to -rob for him. He did the planning; we did the jobs. We took the chances, -he took the money. I was in the hold-up when the gang committed murder, -but I myself killed no man. - -“And now the gallows is waiting for me, while Cardello sits in his pool -room, immune, prosperous, still planning crimes for other young fools. If -I could sink my fingers in his throat and choke his life out, I could die -happy. One thing I promise him—if my ghost can come back, I will haunt -him to his dying day.” - -Morning dawned. Father and mother arrived for a final embrace. Rosina -gave him a last kiss. A priest administered consolation. The sheriff -came and read the death warrant. - -Light, flooding through the barred windows from the newly-risen sun, -filled the jail with golden radiance as, through the iron corridors, feet -shuffling drearily, the death march moved in solemn silence toward the -gallows.... - - * * * * * - -Doctors with stethoscopes watched the final pulsations of ebbing life. -They pronounced him dead. - -The body was wheeled off on a tumbril into the jail morgue and turned -over to assistants of an undertaker employed by the family. Placing it on -a stretcher and covering it with a mantle, these hurried it to a motor -ambulance waiting in the alley. They slid the stretcher into the vehicle -and slammed the doors. The machine got quickly under way, gathered speed, -began to fly through the streets. - -No sooner had the doors of the ambulance slammed shut than strange things -began to happen inside. A physician and a nurse who had been secreted in -the car, fell upon the body with feverish haste, stripped it of clothing, -dashed alcohol over it from head to foot, began to massage the still warm -flesh, chafing the wrists, slapping limbs and torso with smart, stinging -thumps. - -Then, to conserve what little heat remained, they bundled the body in -heavy blankets kept warm in a fireless contrivance. And all the while the -ambulance, its gong clanging madly, was plunging at wild speed across the -city, swaying from side to side, turning corners on two wheels. - -It drew up at last in front of a small undertaking shop on a back street, -and the body was hurried inside. Laid upon a table, it looked as if -carved from ivory. The coal-black hair curled about the white brow in -glossy abandon. The long black lashes of the nearly-shut eyes left deep -shadows on the cold pallor of the cheeks. No tint of blood, no sign of -life appeared. - -Quickly a pulmotor was applied. Oxygen was pumped into the lungs while -the body was again vigorously rubbed with alcohol. Guisseppi’s father and -mother and close relatives stood about in an excited group, eyes wide -with feverish interest, their hearts in their mouths. Doctors and nurses -worked with dynamic energy. - -No sign of rekindled life rewarded them. Their drastic efforts seemed -lost labor. The boy’s soul, apparently, had journeyed far into the dark -places beyond life’s pale and was not to be lured back to its fleshly -habitation. - -Still they persisted, hoping against hope. - -“_Per dio!_” suddenly exclaimed a physician. “Do you see that?” - -A faint flush appeared in Guisseppi’s cheek. - -“He lives again!” burst in a tense whisper from the bloodless lips of the -father. - -The tiny stain spread, tinging the marble flesh. - -“My boy, my darling boy!” cried the mother, wringing her hands in -delirious joy. - -Guisseppi’s chest began to rise and fall slowly, with an almost -imperceptible movement of respiration. The suspicion of a smile hovered -for a moment at the corners of his mouth. - -He opened his eyes. _He lived!_ - - -_II._ - -“Devil” Cardello sat at his desk in a corner of his pool room. The -morning was young; no customers had yet arrived to play pool or -billiards. Basco, the porter, pail and mop in hand, stood for a moment -gossiping. - -“They say he died game,” remarked Basco. - -“They all do,” sneered Cardello. - -“And kept his mouth shut.” - -“No; he spilled everything. But the police didn’t believe him. That’s all -that saved me.” - -“I heard he said his ghost would come back to haunt you.” - -“Ho! That’s a good one,” laughed Cardello. “The devil has got him on a -spit over the fire and will keep him turning. I should worry about the -little fool’s ghost!” - -A whisper of sound from the direction of the billiard tables caused both -men to glance up. - -There stood Guisseppi a few paces away, surveying them in silence, a -blue-steel revolver in his hand! - -“Mother of God!” screamed Basco, dropping his pail and mop, and dashing -into the street. - -Cardello’s eyes bulged from their sockets. His face went as white as -paper. Panic, terror, pulled his lips back in a ghastly grin from his -chattering teeth. He rose heavily to his feet and stood swaying. - -“Guisseppi!” he breathed scarcely above a whisper. “_Guisseppi!_” - -Guisseppi’s lips curled. - -“Yes,” he replied. “The boy you ruined, betrayed, sent to death on the -gallows.” - -“No, no, Guisseppi. The _police_ got you. I was your friend.” - -“Liar! But for you, I would be happy; my father and mother would not bear -the black disgrace of a son hanged on the gallows.” - -“Why have you come back from the dead, Guisseppi? Why should you haunt -your old pal?” - -“I have a score to settle with you.” - -“In the name of God the Father, go back to the grave! Leave me in peace.” - -Guisseppi raised his weapon. - -“I have come to kill you,” he said. - -Cardello fell upon his knees. - -“Spare me, Guisseppi!” he screamed, stretching out imploring arms. -“Mercy, Guisseppi, mercy! Don’t—” - -There was a crash—a leap of fire. - -A wisp of blue smoke drifted above a billiard table. - - -_III._ - -The police dragnet for the slayer of Cardello was far flung, and zest -was added to the man hunt by the offer of $1,000 reward. Throughout the -Italian quarter, Basco spread the story of Guisseppi’s recrudescence and -his ghostly revenge. - -The superstitious residents accepted the weird tale with simple faith. -Fear of the phantom became rife. Children remained indoors after dark. -Pedestrians quickened their pace when passing lonely spots at night. -Turning a corner suddenly, they half-expected to come face to face with -Guisseppi’s ghost, wry-necked from the hangman’s noose. - -Policeman Rafferty, traveling beat in the neighborhood of Death Corners, -was told time and again that Guisseppi’s ghost had murdered Cardello. -Yes, it was true. Basco had seen the phantom. Others in the colony had -seen it slipping like a shadow through some deserted street at night. -There was no doubt that Guisseppi had come back from the dead. - -Policeman Rafferty laughed. When had ghosts started in bumping off live -folks? That was what he would like to know. How could the poor simpletons -believe such stuff? Funny lot of jobbies, these dagoes! - -But when Policeman Rafferty had heard the story of Guisseppi’s ghost for -the thousandth time, he scratched his head and did a little thinking, not -forgetting the $1,000 reward. Guisseppi was dead. Of course. He had been -hanged, and the newspapers had been full of the stories of his execution. -So Guisseppi couldn’t have killed Cardello. That was out of the question. -But could it be possible that dead Guisseppi had a living double? Hah! - -Policeman Rafferty got in touch with his favorite stool-pigeon without -delay. Shortly thereafter, that worthy laid before him a piece of -information which Policeman Rafferty was welcome to for just what it -was worth and no more. Guisseppi’s ghost had been seen oftenest in the -immediate neighborhood of Guisseppi’s father’s residence. If the fool -copper thought he could put a pinch over on a ghost, he might do well to -search Guisseppi’s old home. - -So Policeman Rafferty eased himself one day through a narrow passageway, -burst in suddenly at the kitchen door and started to search the premises. - -He found Guisseppi whiffing a cigaret in a front room. - - * * * * * - -“Yes, I killed Cardello,” said Guisseppi quietly. “I’ll go with you.” - -“But who are you?” asked the policeman. “You can’t be Guisseppi. They -topped that boy on the gallows.” - -“I’m Guisseppi, all right. They brought me back to life with a pulmotor.” - -Policeman Rafferty’s jaw dropped. - -“Back to life?” - -“Yes. I was as dead as stone. I was gone absolutely for an hour.” - -“Gone? Gone where?” - -“I don’t know. Somewhere. I remember standing on the trap. Then it seemed -I was falling for a long time, falling—from a star—or a high mountain -top—through miles of emptiness into midnight blackness. There wasn’t -any pain. I seemed to land on a deep soft cushion of feathers. I could -_feel_ the darkness. It seemed to whirl and billow round me. I couldn’t -see myself—or feel myself. But I knew, somehow, I was there in the heart -of the darkness. I suddenly found myself on a broad road stretching away -into night.” - -“Must ha’ been the road to hell,” remarked Policeman Rafferty. - -“Maybe so. Along this road, I glided with the swiftness of a bird on the -wing. I didn’t know where I was going—” - -“You were bound for hell,” said Rafferty. - -“I heard music away off in the dark; wonderful orchestra music, violins, -’cellos, wind pipes. It grew louder. I never heard such beautiful music. -Through the solid blackness ahead, I saw a great mountain peak standing -up, red and shining, against the sky. - -“Around me came a glare of bright lights. I was blinded by streaks and -splashes of color, darting, rolling, weaving into each other, changing -all the time. Reds, purples, greens, blues, rolled over me in great, -flashing waves. Flaring colors swirled around me in blazing whirlwinds. -I was drowned in gorgeousness. It was as if a cyclone had wrecked a -thousand rainbows and buried me beneath their ruins.” - -“What were these lights?” - -“Search me. I don’t know. I heard a loud, clear call out of the distance. -I pushed through the storm of colors. Across a dark plain, I reached the -shining, red mountain. I climbed up until I stood on the peak. I felt -fine. Something struck me as a joke. I began laughing. Then, bending -close above me, I saw the faces of my mother and father and the doctors.” - -“Well, Guisseppi,” said Policeman Rafferty, “gettin’ hung once would ha’ -been an elegant sufficiency for most men. They’d be leery about takin’ a -second chance. You must be stuck on dropping through a trap—eh?” - -“Yes, they’ll hang me again, all right. That’s a cinch. You might think -me a fool for walking with my eyes open right into this second scrape—” - -“A hog,” corrected Rafferty. - -“I don’t know. I came back from the dead to kill Cardello. And I killed -him. I hated that fellow. I’d like to have tortured the life out of him, -killed him by inches. His cries of agony would have been wine to me. It’s -hell to be hanged. I ought to know. But I can go back to the gallows now -with a light heart. I got Cardello, and I’m ready to take my medicine.” - -Policeman Rafferty bit a generous chew from his plug of tobacco. - -“You Eye-talians,” he remarked reflectively, “are a nutty bunch.” - - -_IV._ - -The court room was crowded. Guisseppi’s strange story had been spread to -the four winds by the newspapers, and everybody was eager to see this man -who had passed through the mystic portals of death. - -“My client will plead guilty to the Cardello murder,” said Guisseppi’s -lawyer. “I take it your honor will agree with me that having paid the -penalty of the law for his former crime, he can not again be hanged for -that old offense.” - -“I do agree with you,” replied the judge. “The sentence was that on a -certain day at a certain hour, he be hanged by the neck until dead. This -sentence was carried out. He was hanged. He was officially pronounced -dead. It is not for me to say whether death was absolute. Perhaps a spark -of life remained which was fanned back to full flame. Possibly his soul -actually left the body and was recalled by some cryptic means we do not -fully understand. - -“But, whatever the truth, his return to life creates a unique situation. -I know of no precedent of which the law ever has taken cognizance. So -far as I know, this case is the first of its kind in history. Since the -sentence pronounced upon this man has been carried out legally in every -detail, it is my decision that he can not again be hanged for the crime -for which he already has paid the penalty.” - -“There is one other point which your honor failed to consider,” said -Guisseppi’s lawyer. “It is an axiom of law that a man can not, for the -same crime, be placed in jeopardy twice. A man can be placed in no -greater jeopardy than when, with a hangman’s noose around his neck, he -is dropped through the trap-door of a gallows. So, whether Guisseppi was -actually dead or whether a faint flicker of life remained, he is forever -immune from further punishment for the crime for which he was placed in -this great jeopardy.” - -“Your point may be well taken,” replied the judge. - -“Now, your honor, we come to the Cardello murder charge. It is at the -prisoner’s own desire and against my better judgment that I enter a -plea of guilty and throw him upon the mercy of the court. There are -perhaps some extenuating circumstances. But he is willing to take -whatever punishment the court may see fit to inflict. In view of all -the circumstances of this extraordinary case, I make a special plea for -mercy.” - -“I will answer your plea,” returned the judge, “by ordering the case -stricken from the docket and the prisoner discharged from custody.” - -A murmur of amazement broke the tense hush of the crowded chamber. -Guisseppi’s lawyer gasped. - -“Am I to understand, your honor—” - -“This is not mercy but law,” the judge continued. “This man is legally -dead. He is without the pale of all law. A dead man can commit no -crime. No provision in the whole range of jurisprudence recognizes the -possibility of a dead man’s committing a crime. No man, in the purview of -the law, can return from the dead. If we assume that this man was dead, -he will remain dead forever in the eyes of the law. If by a miracle he -has returned to life and committed murder, there is no punishment within -the scope of the statutes that can be decreed against him. - -“He is the super-outlaw of all history. Forever beyond the reach of law, -the statutes are powerless to deal with him or punish him in any way. If -he should shoot down every member of the jury that convicted him, if he -should walk into court and kill the judge before whom his case was tried, -the law could do nothing to him. He could spend his days as a bandit, -robbing, plundering, murdering, and the law could not touch him. Legally -he is a ghost, a shadow, an apparition, with no more reality than the -beings in a dream. So far as the law is concerned, he does not exist. He -can no more be imprisoned, hanged, punished or restricted in his actions -than a phantom that exists only in the imagination.” - -“A most wonderful construction of the law,” declared Guisseppi’s attorney -in happy bewilderment at the turn of events. - -“It is less a construction of law as it exists than an admission there -is no law applicable to a man legally dead yet actually alive, a man who -under the law does not exist. This boy, physically alive but legally -dead, has murdered a man with deliberate purpose and malice aforethought. -There is no doubt about that. If the law recognized his existence, he -should be hanged. Justice demands that he be executed. But he is in some -fourth-dimensional legal state beyond the reach of justice. The law is -powerless to deal with him. As the administrator of the law, my hands are -tied. There is nothing left for me but to set him at liberty.” - -Despite the decision of the court that under the law he had no existence, -Guisseppi left the chamber smiling and happy, acutely conscious of joyous -life in every fibre of his being. - - * * * * * - -Policeman Rafferty was filled with righteous anger when he learned that -he could not collect the $1,000 reward. In answer to his indignant -questions, he was told the reward was offered for the arrest of “the -person or persons guilty of the murder of Cardello,” and since Guisseppi -was neither a person or anything else that the law recognized as -existing, he was not guilty of the crime. - -Moreover, it was hinted to him that in capturing Guisseppi, he had -arrested nobody. In the end, Policeman Rafferty had to laugh in spite of -himself. - -“The money’s mine, all right,” he said philosophically. “Only I don’t get -it.” - - -_V._ - -Rosina Stefano sat alone in the little parlor of her home in one of the -quaint side-streets of the Italian quarters, picturesque with its jumble -of weather-stained frame dwellings and exotic little shops. - -It was a chill, dreary night outside. A piping wind made fantastic noises -about eaves and gables, and shook the windows as with ghostly hands. A -lamp, burning under a blue shade, filled the chamber with eerie shadows. -A coal fire was dying to embers in the open grate. There was a knock at -the door. - -“_Entre!_” - -Guisseppi threw open the door and stood upon the threshold smiling. - -“Rosina!” - -The girl rose from her chair and stared fixedly at him out of frightened -eyes. With a quick gesture, as if for protection against some -supernatural menace, she made the sign of the cross. - -“I have come back to you, Rosina.” Guisseppi took a step toward her and -threw open his arms. - -Rosina shrank back. - -“Do you not still love me?” - -Her lips framed a “No” for answer in a terror-stricken whisper. - -“Come, my little sweetheart, embrace me.” - -“No, no, Guisseppi!” Her voice was a tremulous cry. “You are dead!” - -“Dead? Certainly I am not dead. I am alive and well, and I love you just -as I always loved you.” - -“You are only a ghost.” - -“Don’t be foolish, little one. Do I look like a ghost? Me? Come into my -arms and see how strong they are. Lay your head on my breast and feel the -beating of my heart. And every beat of my heart is for you.” - -Rosina stood motionless. There flashed through her mind old grewsome -stories of vampires that lured their victims into their power with love -traps and sucked their blood. Momentary horror froze her blood. - -“O Guisseppi,” she exclaimed, “why have you risen from the dead? Why do -you come back to haunt me?” - -“Poor girl, do not talk like that. I tell you I am alive—tingling to my -finger tips with life and love for you. If I were dead, I should still -love you. Death could not kill my love for you. Have you forgotten -everything? I thought you loved me. You have often told me so. I believed -you would always love me, be true to me forever. Now I find you changed -and cold.” - -“I did love you, Guisseppi. To the depths of my being I loved you.” Her -words came in a passionate torrent in her liquid native tongue. “You were -my earth and heaven, my life, my soul’s salvation. All day my thoughts -were of you. I dreamed of you at night. There was nothing I would not -have done for you. There was nothing I would not have given you. I could -have lived for you always. I could have died for you. Did I not come to -see you every day in jail? Did I not bring you constantly dishes I had -cooked myself with utmost care? Was not I close beside you in the court -room every day of the long trial? - -“I did everything to soothe and comfort you through all those terrible -days. Was it nothing that I remained constant when you were locked in a -cell condemned to death? I was true to the very trap-door of the hangman. -What greater proof could a woman give of her love than to remain true to -a man sentenced as a felon to the eternal disgrace of the gallows?” - -She paused for a moment, erect, motionless, her face aflame, seemingly -transfigured like the wonder woman of a vision. - -“Ah, yes,” she went on; “then there was no one like my Guisseppi; no -eyes so bright, no lips so tender, no face so dear. You were my god. Can -I ever forget the songs you used to sing to me in the happy days before -‘Devil’ Cardello crossed your life. Your voice was divine. Every note -thrilled me. I loved it. To me it was the music of the stars. Nothing -in all the world was so beautiful as your voice. But now your voice has -changed. There is no longer any music in it. As you speak to me, it seems -a voice from the sepulchre.” - -Guisseppi raised an arresting hand. He threw back his head. He smiled -again. - -“My voice has changed? Listen, _cara mia_.” - -Slowly he began to sing an old Italian serenade. The ballad told of a -knight of old who had bade a lily-white maid farewell and gone off to the -wars and who, wounded and left for dead on the battlefield, was nursed -back to life and returned to find his lady unchanged in her devotion -against rivals and temptations. - -Soft in the opening cadences, Guisseppi’s voice grew in volume and power. -It brought out in shades and nuances of wonderful beauty all the charm -and romance of the ancient tale—the sadness of farewell, the clash of -battle, the wounded soldier’s dreams of his sweetheart as life seemed -ebbing, the gladness of his homecoming, his happiness in reunited love. - -Into the music, Guisseppi threw all the ardor and passion of his own -love. There were notes like tears in his voice when, in minor strain, -he sang the sorrows and dreams of the soldier; and the final crescendo -passage, vivid with renewed love, was a burst of joyous melody straight -from his heart. - -“_And you loved me still the same!_” The words rose like incense from an -altar. They fluttered about Rosina’s ears like a shower of rose leaves. - -The girl listened, spellbound. Never in happier days had she heard -Guisseppi sing with such compelling sweetness. There seemed a new and -wonderful quality in his voice. With his magical music, he was like a -conjurer bending her spirit to his subtle enchantments. - -On a golden cloud, she was transported to the sunny shores of Italy. A -cavalier sang the serenade in the moonlight to his mandolin and, leaning -from her latticed balcony, she dropped a rose to him. The bay of Naples -spread its crinkled azure before her. Against the dark, star-spangled -crystal of the night, sculptured Vesuvius upheld its canopy of smoke. - -As the music steeped her senses, she fancied she could feel its golden -filaments being drawn about her, binding her more and more closely in a -fairy chain. As if under the charm of melodious hypnotism, her old love -returned. All the tenderness and passion of her heart went out again to -Guisseppi. The siren influence of his voice was transforming her. Her -strength of will was crumbling. She stood swaying, helpless, her eyes -glowing with rekindled love. - -Suddenly the song ended. The spell was broken. Rosina passed a languid -hand over her eyes as if to brush away a film of sleep. She seemed to -wake from a trance. Guisseppi stood before her radiant, smiling. - -“Now will you believe I am alive? Could a dead man sing like that?” - -A look of awe overspread Rosina’s face. - -“You never sang like that before.” - -“This is the first time my life and happiness were ever at stake on a -song.” - -“The Guisseppi I used to know could not sing like that. You are not -Guisseppi. You are a spirit. Some demon has taught you how to sing so -beautifully. You have come back with this new devil’s voice of yours to -lure my soul to hell.” - -“Ah, Rosina, how can you delude yourself with such foolish fancies. Do -you not see me here solid in flesh and blood?” - -“I see you, but I know you are only a shadow from the grave.” - -“If your eyes deceive you, your ears can not. You have heard me sing.” - -“That was some devil’s necromancy.” - -Guisseppi fell on his knees before her and stretched out his arms in -supplication. - -“I love you, Rosina. That is all I can say. The hangman’s noose was not -able to strangle my love for you. Your love is more to me now than it -ever was before. The world has turned cold to me. You are my only hope, -my refuge. I need you. I want you with all my soul.” - -The girl shook her head sorrowfully. Her eyes rested upon him with -sadness that was touched with renunciation. - -“It can never be,” she said firmly. “How you are here, I do not know. -You are dead; of that I am sure. My love for you was buried in the grave -that was dug for you. You are not the boy I once loved. You are something -strange and different. I am afraid of you. It is only with horror that I -could fancy the kisses of a dead man on my lips. The thought of a ghost’s -endearments fills me with loathing. Go back to the dead. I can love and -reverence those who are gone, but there is no love anywhere in all the -world for the dead returned from the grave.” - -She turned away and stood with her head bowed in her hands. - -Slowly Guisseppi struggled to his feet. He staggered weakly against the -wall and buried his face in his arms. - -“And you, Rosina!” he sobbed. - -This was the final, crushing blow. He felt now that he was indeed -dead—dead at the grave of his lost love. - - -_VI._ - -A taxicab stood in the narrow street near Rosina’s home, its driver ready -at the wheel, its engine purring. Behind the drawn blinds, sat Guisseppi, -aflame with excitement, peering eagerly through the curtains from time to -time. - -Guisseppi was desperate. There was no place for the dead among the -living. He had learned that clearly. As a “living dead man,” all his -experiences had been tragic. He regretted his resuscitation. He longed -for the peace of the grave. - -His old friends had fallen away from him. Many believed him a spirit -damned, who, by some strange dispensation, was spared to life for yet a -little while to make more exquisite the final agony reserved for him. -Others were intelligent enough to know the truth, but even these were -repelled by a certain unwholesomeness, a savor of the sepulchre, that -seemed to cling about him. - -The girls he had known in his old, gay days would have nothing to do -with him. As handsome as ever, as romantic, with a voice as musical and -appealing, he was in their imagination enveloped in an atmosphere of the -charnel-house, and the curse of hell was branded on his brow. - -His relatives held aloof. Between him and even his mother and father he -was conscious that a thin shadow had gradually crept, and the tenderness -of their love had been cooled by a ghostly fear of this eerie son who had -been down among the dead and read with dead eyes the mysteries beyond the -tomb. - -He had been unable to find employment. It was as if every business house -had up a sign, “No dead men need apply.” - -In despair and desperation, he fell into his old ways of banditry. He -soon had placed to his record a long series of bold robberies. For -several of his first lawless exploits, the police arrested him. But -invariably the judges before whom he was arraigned set him at liberty. - -So after a while the police refused to arrest him. What was the use? This -ghost-man would only be set free again. - -... While Guisseppi sat hidden from view behind the curtains of his -taxicab, ruminating upon the bitterness of his fate, Rosina emerged from -her home. Trim and dainty with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, the young -beauty was subtly suggestive of flowers and fragrance as she tripped -along the street in the warm sunshine. - -As she came abreast of the taxicab, Guisseppi stepped out, caught her in -his arms, and swung her into the car. The girl’s wild screams shrilled -through the slumberous stillness of the quarter and filled the streets -with excited throngs as the cab plunged madly forward, dashed around a -corner and was soon lost to sight. In a distant part of the city, the -car halted before a weather-stained building. Within the dingy doorway -Guisseppi disappeared, bearing the kidnapped maiden in his arms. - -A little later, Guisseppi appeared before the marriage license clerk in -the city hall. - -“I’m sorry,” said the clerk, “but I can not give you a marriage license.” - -“Why not?” - -“You are dead. You can not marry.” - -“But I’m _going_ to marry!” shouted Guisseppi defiantly. - -“Impossible. If I went through the formality of filling out a license -for you, no minister or priest would perform the wedding service. The -marriage altar, orange blossoms, the happiness of domestic love are not -for the dead.” - -“But I’m _alive_! I am only _legally_ dead.” - -The clerk smiled tolerantly. With a pencil he drew a circle on a sheet of -paper. - -“Here,” said he, “is a cipher. It is the symbol of nothing, but, as a -circular pencil mark, it is still something.” - -He erased every trace of the pencil and exhibited the blank piece of -paper. - -“This,” he explained, “illustrates your status. In human affairs, you -are a cipher with the rim rubbed out. A man legally dead is less than -nothing.” - - -_VII._ - -Luigi Romano, who had succeeded Guisseppi in Rosina’s affections, was -among the first to hear of the abduction. - -Blazing with passion, he laid his plans with quick decision and took the -trail. Without great difficulty, he traced the route of the taxicab, -block by block, to its destination. - -Depressed by his fruitless mission in search of a marriage license, -Guisseppi was hurrying toward the building in which Rosina was -imprisoned. His eyes were bent upon the ground in deep thought. His face -was white and drawn. - -Luigi stepped from the shelter of a doorway with a sawed-off shotgun in -his hands.... - - * * * * * - -When the police arrived, a little crowd of Italians had gathered. - -They shrugged their shoulders and spread their palms. Nobody had seen -anything; nobody had heard anything; nobody knew anything. But one thing -was plain—the dead man, sprawled on the sidewalk, was dead this time to -stay dead. - -“O yes,” said Attorney Malato, who had looked after Luigi’s case, “they -arrested Luigi all right. But they turned him loose. Why not? This boy -Guisseppi could not be punished by the law, but neither could he claim -in the slightest degree the protection of the law. Since he had no legal -life, it was no crime to kill him. He was a legal problem, and Luigi -solved it in about the only way it could be solved—with a sawed-off -shotgun.”’ - - * * * * * - -It is often wondered why the earth is round instead of being some other -shape. This is because of the attraction of gravity, which tends to pull -everything toward the center of the world. It can be seen that even if -the earth was originally some other shape, in the course of a few years -this influence would have pulled it into its present shape. - - - - -_A Gripping, Powerful Story by a Man Who Always Tells a Good Tale_ - -The Blade of Vengeance - -_By_ George Warburton Lewis - - -The outcome was all the more regrettable because Henry Fayne had staked -so much on the success of his great venture. He had renounced innumerable -bachelor friendships for Leanor, only to discover within a year of the -celebrated social event, which had been their wedding, that he was linked -for life to a captivating adventuress. - -It was a hard blow. Only by desperate efforts, long sustained, had he -been able to take himself in hand and force out of his thoughts the ugly -images that obsessed him. - -[Illustration] - -Leanor’s perfidy was a thing of which even his best friends never could -have convinced him; yet now he knew it to be true—aye, knew it because -she herself had boasted of it! - -Fayne had striven hard to shut so hideous a specter out of his vision, -partly because of a haunting fear that the thing which the discovery had -set throbbing in his brain would get the better of him, that he would -hurt somebody, or himself. - -He had been an unusually well-balanced man, but it was only after many a -stern struggle with the pulsating thing that hammered in his head that he -surrendered the corpse of his outraged love to the divorce court and the -gossip-mongers, and went sadly back to his bachelor haunts in the hope -of forgetting. But he was appalled to find that he no longer fitted in. - -The friends of the free and easy days of his celibacy were sincere enough -in their pity for him, though in no way disposed to put themselves out -seeking reclamation. In short, they might as well have said in chorus: - -“You couldn’t have expected us to forewarn you; you’d have quit us cold. -You had to discover it for yourself, and the operation of finding out has -simply rendered you impossible as one of the old crowd. Sorry, old man, -but, after all, it’s better that you should know.” - -So Henry Fayne brooded, lost his nerve, and then, all of a -sudden—disappeared. - -The old circle knew his set and cynical face no more. There were rumors -of mental breakdown and suicide, and there was one report (little -credited, however) that the unfortunate fellow had drifted down into the -wilds of South America and become an eccentric and a recluse. - -Leanor tired, in time, of the murderous velocity of her social chariot, -dumped the winged vehicle on the trash-heap and went abroad, accompanied -by a less rich and more ambitious retinue of high livers. - -Like vari-colored butterflies, five years winged overhead, years by -no means lacking in color and variety for Leanor. Exacting as were -her tastes, she could scarcely have desired a more changeful, a more -exquisitely exhilarating life. - -Only once in a blue moon did she think of Henry. Thoughts of him, like -all other memories of her meteoric past, had been crowded into oblivion -by the inrush of the more intimate and actual. - -Henry had been very good to her, she had to admit, but he had been none -the less impossible. The outcome had been inevitable from the beginning. -He was fifteen years her senior. She knew that she could never have -held her volatile self down to a life of self-sacrifice and suffering -with Henry. The idea was no less absurd than the mating of an esthetic -humming-bird with some sedate old owl. - -When she consented to marry Henry she had entertained no such -preposterous thought as exacting of him a compliance with the -ridiculously restricted code of ethics he subsequently set for her. -Indeed, she would have grown old and ugly with nothing accomplished, -unseeking and unsought. Too, there would have been lamentably fewer -notches on her ivory fan than the half-decade last past had yielded. - -As the wretched venture had turned out, however, she was still under -thirty and was, to employ the homely simile of her latest masculine -objective, “as pretty as a peach.” - - * * * * * - -At the Pacific entrance of the Grand Canal, where the town of Bandora -drowses like a sprawling lizard on the sun-baked clay, word went round -that the millionaire adventuress was yachting down the west coast, -homeward bound. - -Everybody who read the public prints knew about Leanor, so at least one -element at Bandora awaited her arrival with curious interest. And the -curious were to be gratified, for since pretty Leanor habitually did the -unexpected, she only proved her consistency when, upon her arrival, she -capriciously decided to tarry a fortnight, with the two-fold object of -having a look at the great waterway and exploring historic Batoga Island, -only a couple of hours distant. - -Should the mighty monument to engineering skill prove uninteresting, -there remained the secret caves of Batoga, among them _La Guaca de San -Pedro_, by allegation the identical haunted, bat-inhabited cavern in -which buccaneering old Henry Morgan had once stored all of his ill-gotten -gains and maybe imprisoned the unfortunate nuns captured at Porto Bello! -And then, too, there was the celebrated Devil’s Channel, which, according -to widely circulated and much-believed stories, sucked small craft down -into its omnivorous maw like some insatiable demon lying in wait. - -Leanor devoted but little time to the prodigious engineering feat. After -all, it was man-made, and what was man if not a purveyor to feminine -caprices? Mere men were cheap. The adventuress knew, because she had -bought and sold many of them. She had bartered the very souls of some. - -She had bought them all with make-believe affection and disposed of them -at a hundred per cent discount. She treated them much as one treats -cast-off garments, experiencing only minor difficulties in disengaging -herself from some of the more persistent. - -A genuine Sybarite, Leanor’s appetite for entities masculine had at last -cloyed, and she now turned impatiently to inscrutable old Nature to make -up the deficiency. - -She went to Batoga, a verdant, mighty mountain, greenly shaggy, as yet -unshorn by advancing civilization. It might have been a little separate -world, set down by nature in a sleeping sea of sapphire. Here, indeed, -was something different. - -She was wild with delight as soon as her dainty feet touched the -shell-paved beach. Really, this wonderland was too splendidly perfect to -share with her unpoetic company of paid buffoons! She sent the whole lot -of them bagging back to Bandora, decided to employ a guide, a boatman, or -a native maid, contingent upon her special needs, right on the ground. - -It was due to this whim of Leanor’s that I myself wandered into the cast, -came to know Leanor and likewise the story I am telling you here. I had -just come through a notably obstinate case of dengue in the sanitarium. -My thin knees, in fact, were still somewhat wobbly, and I was urging -them back to normal by means of a leisurely stroll across the rolling -pasture-land. On a grassy, wind-swept hillside I came all unexpectedly -upon Leanor. - -Evidently she had thought to refresh her jaded wits by a revel in wild -flowers. She was seated on a shelf of rock that rimmed the hill-crown, -culling unworthy floral specimens. A single upward glance, and then her -eyes dropped back to her flowers in a world-bored manner which I somehow -felt a quick impulse to resent. At least I could annoy her. That was any -fool’s privilege. - -“Gathering flowers?” I interrogated, just as though that fact were not as -obvious as the blue sky itself. - -For answer, my front-line fortifications were instantly swept by an -ocular onslaught well calculated to obliterate. I smiled back engagingly -at the source of the tempest. - -“Some hill, this,” I suggested, emitting a windy sigh after the exertion -of its ascent. - -And then I saw that my second drive had broken through her first-line -trench on a front of about a quarter of an inch. Disdain died slowly out -of her face—a face still unaccountably fresh and girlish—and something -like pity at my apparent lack of sophistication took its place. - -“You really think it a high hill?” she asked, faintly smiling and gazing -at me steadily as though she doubted my sanity. - -I noted that her hazel eyes seemed to swim in seas of a wonderfully -sparkling liquid. - -“Well,” I qualified, affecting funereal gravity, “it’s higher than _some_ -hills.” - -Her amused smile expanded perceptibly. - -“Really, now, have you ever seen very many hills?” - -“N-no,” I reluctantly confessed, “not so _very_ many.” - -“What induced you to measure this one?” - -“Well, I was shadowing somebody,” I said quietly. At last she had given -me an opening. - -“Whom, pray?” she demanded, her smile brightening expectantly. - -“_You_—if you don’t mind,” I announced. - -“_Me!_” She laughed deliriously for a moment. - -“It’s hardly a laughing matter,” I said, with forced seriousness when she -was still. “I’ve been working on this case for years.” - -She sobered with a suddenness that suggested ugly thoughts, perchance -remembering something of her kaleidoscopic past. The hazel eyes saddened -a little. It was evident that she was rummaging among happenings which it -gave her small pleasure to review. I waited. Maybe I was not quite the -yokel she had thought me. - -“Do you mean you’re a detective?” she presently asked. - -“I mean just that, madam,” I said evenly. - -“By whom are you employed?” she questioned tentatively. - -“By Henry Fayne,” I casually replied. - -“That is the lie of an impostor,” quickly asserted the woman; “Henry -Fayne is dead.” - -She rose from the stone shelf and prepared to desert me. Anyhow, I had -won my point. I had succeeded in annoying her. - -But I concluded I could hardly let the matter so end, even as affecting a -woman like Leanor. Nobody can afford to be openly rude. - -“Wait,” I said; “let’s be good sportsmen. You tilted at me and I -retaliated. Honors are even. Why not forget it?” - -She was greatly relieved; and besides, forgetfulness, of all things, was -what she sought. After a moment, deep wells of laughter again glistened -in her splendid eyes. These and the smiling young mouth somehow seemed to -give the lie to the fiasco she had made of life. What a pity, I thought, -that she had chosen to fritter away her life in this fatuous, futile -fashion. - -I had thought that I should feel only contempt for such a woman as -Leanor, but as we walked down the hill she told me something that -penetrated a hitherto unknown weak spot in my armor. So I all but pitied -the woman I had prepared to despise. - -As if to take strength from them, she kept her eyes on the wild flowers -she had gathered, as she pronounced the well-nigh unbelievable words I -now set down. - -The craze for the blinding white lights, and the delusion of equally -white wines, were surfeited. The gilt and tinsel of the truly tawdry had -palled. The mask of allurement had fallen from the forbidding face of -the artificial and empty. Life itself had become for Leanor a vacant and -meaningless thing. She had seen too much of it in too brief a space. - -She concluded with a seeming contradiction, a veiled regret that her -frenzied explorations had exhausted all too soon the world’s meager store -of things worth while, and there was a bitterness in her voice which -contrasted unpleasantly with her youth and beauty as she said plainly, -though with little visible emotion, that she had reached a point where -life itself often repelled and nauseated her. - -We had reached the sanitarium by this time, an interruption not unwelcome -in the circumstances, and I left the strange woman alone with her tardy -regrets and sought my own quarters, sympathetic and depressed, yet -thanking my lucky stars for the happy dispensation that had made me an -adventurer instead of an “adventuress.” - -That evening, Leanor and I planned a trip to Devil’s Channel, and -I strolled down to the beach in search of such a shallow-draught -_cayuco_ as could maneuver its way over the reefs that barred larger -craft. _Boteros_ of divers nationalities abounded, and among the many -my questioning gaze finally met that of a vagabondish-looking fellow -countryman in a frayed sailor garb. In odd contrast to his raiment, and -swinging from his belt in a sheath which his short coat for an instant -did not quite conceal, I caught a single glimpse of a heavy hunting knife -with an ornamented stag-horn handle. - -His name was Sisson, he told me, but he spoke Spanish like a native. His -uncarded beard was a thing long forgotten of razors. He was unmistakably -another of those easily identified tramps of the tropics who, in an -unguarded moment, unaccountably lose their grip on themselves and -thenceforward go sliding unresistingly down to a not unwelcome oblivion. - -Sisson did not importune me, as did all the other boatmen; he did not -even offer me his services; and it was because of this evidence of -some lingering vestige of pride, coupled with the fact that he had an -eminently suitable _cayuco_, that I decided to employ him. - - * * * * * - -At the narrow gateway of Devil’s Channel the water is so shallow, and -there so frequently occur tiny submerged sand-bars, that only the -minutest of sea craft can skim over the gleaming rifts and gain entrance. -This was confirmed for the nth time when I felt the specially made keel -of our tiny _cayuco_ scrape the shiny sand in warning that we were at -last entering the canyon-like waterway. - -Leanor and I were both playing our splendid oarsman with well-nigh every -imaginable question about the gloomy, spooky-looking channel before us. - -“Aren’t we nearing _the place_ yet?” Leanor presently asked. - -“Farther in,” drawled Sisson, the bearded giant of a boatman, glancing -carelessly at the ascending cliffs on either side. - -Twisting my body round in the wee native _cayuco_, I noted that the -perpendicular walls of the shadowy strait that lay before us seemed -drawing together with every pull of Sisson’s great arms. Leanor’s pretty -face was radiant with expectation. Though bored of the world, there was -at least one more thrill for her ahead. - -Five minutes slipped by. Sisson rowed on steadily. - -“There she is!” the boatman said suddenly, for the first time evincing -something like a normal human interest in life. One of his huge, hairy -hands was indicating an alkali spot on the face of the right-hand wall a -stone’s throw ahead. “Just opposite that white spot is where _it always -happens_.” - -He released his oars and let them trail in the still water. It looked -peculiarly lifeless. Our small shell gradually slowed. - -“Seems to be all smooth sailing here today, though,” I ventured. - -“Overrated, for the benefit of tourists,” opined Sisson. “The water’s -eaten out a little tunnel under the west wall, but there’s no real danger -if you know the chart.” - -“How many did you say were drowned when that launch went down?” again -asked Leanor. Her great dark eyes were sparkling again now with a keen -new interest in life—or was it the nearness to potential death? - -“Eleven,” drawled Sisson. “The engineer jumped for it and made a -landing on that bench of slate over there, and right there”—he smiled -reminiscently—“he sat for seventy-two hours, with ‘water, water -everywhere, nor any drop’—” - -“And is it true that none of the life-preservers they were putting on -when the launch sank was ever found?” Leanor also wanted to know. - -“True enough,” said Sisson, “but that’s not unnatural. Drowning men lay -hold of whatever they can and never, _never_ turn loose. Why, I’ve seen -the clawlike fingers of skeletons locked around sticks that wouldn’t bear -up a cockroach!” - -“Did you say it was a relatively calm day?” I questioned the boatman idly. - -“Sure. Calm as it is right now,” he answered. - -I observed casually that the oarsman was gazing fixedly at Leanor. Even -on him, perhaps, beauty was not entirely lost. Doubtless, too, he had -heard the gossip her arrival had set going along the wharves at Batoga. -Meanwhile Leanor had made a discovery. - -“Why, we’re still making headway!” she broke out suddenly. “I—I thought -we had stopped.” - -Sisson glanced down at the water, and his tanned brow broke up in -vertical wrinkles of consternation. The look in his deepset eyes, though, -did not, oddly enough, seem to match the perplexity written on his -corrugated brow. - -Our craft was sliding rapidly forward as though propelled by the oars. -The phenomenon was due to a current; that much was certain, for we were -moving with a flotsam of dead leaves and seaweed. - -Again I screwed my body half round in the cramped bow and shot a glance -ahead. God! we were shooting toward the dread spot on the alkali cliff as -though drawn to it by an unseen magnet. I could see, too, that our speed -was rapidly increasing. - -Sisson snatched up the trailing oars and put his giant’s strength against -the invisible something that seemed dragging us by the keel, but all -he did was to plough two futile furrows in the strange whirlpool. Our -_cayuco_ glided on. - -The _blasé_ adventuress was never more beautiful. For the time, at least, -life, warm and pulsating, had come back and clasped her in a joyous -embrace. Her lips were parted in a smile of seemingly inexpressible -delight. There was not the remotest suggestion of surprise or fear in her -girlish face. - -She put her helm over only when I shouted to her in wide-eyed alarm, but -the keen, finlike keel of our specially built _cayuco_ obviously did not -respond. Oblique in the channel, we slithered over, ever nearer to the -west wall, the unseen agent of destruction towing us with awful certainty -toward the vortex. Still the surface of the water, moving with us, -looked as motionless as a mill-pond! It was uncanny, nothing less. - -I peered into the bluishly transparent depths, fascinated with wonder, -and then, of a sudden, I saw that which alone might prove our salvation. -Apparently we were in a writhing, powerful current, racing atop the -seemingly placid undersea or sub-surface waters of the channel. I -could make out many small objects spinning merrily about as they flew, -submerging, toward the whirlpool. - -We carried six life-belts. Two of these I snatched from their fastenings, -slipped one about Leanor, and with the other but partly adjusted—for -there remained no time—myself plunged out of our—as it were—bewitched -craft in the direction of the west wall. - -To my surprise I swam easily. When I made a deep stroke, however, I could -feel strange suctorial forces tugging at my finger-tips. But for the -moment I was safe. - -I glanced about to see if Leanor had followed my lead. She was not in the -water. I turned on my back and saw, to my utter amazement, that neither -she nor Sisson had left the _cayuco_. - -This was unaccountable indeed. And it was now clear that it was too late -for them to jump, for the light boat had already begun to spin round in a -circle at a point exactly opposite the alkali spot! Faster and faster it -flew, the diameter of the ring in which it raced swiftly narrowing. - -As I swam, my shoulder collided with some obstruction. It was the west -wall. I clambered up a couple of feet and sat dripping on a slime-covered -shelf of slate, the identical slab on which the engineer of the sunken -launch had thirsted. - -I was powerless to help my companions. I could only sit and stare in near -unbelief. Why—_Why_ had they not abandoned the tiny craft with me? I saw -now that neither had even so much as got hold of a life-belt. Why—? - -_My God!_ What was this I beheld? Sisson had advanced to the stern of the -flying cockleshell where Leanor still sat motionless, unexcited, smiling. -The charmed look of expectancy was still in her perfect face. - -Sisson’s voice, suddenly risen high, chilled me to the marrow. It might -have been the voice of some martyr on the scaffold. He did not reveal -his identity to Leanor. It was not necessary. Something—I dare not say -what—enabled her in that awful moment of tragedy to know _her divorced -husband_. - - * * * * * - -The exquisite torture of recollection had shriveled Henry Fayne’s -mentality and left him a semi-maniac, yet here, after all the cynical, -embittering years was the physical, the carnate Henry Fayne, the -long-discarded plaything of feminine caprice. His suffering was fearfully -recorded in the seamed and bearded mask of his altered features. - -The smile did not leave Leanor’s face. The madman’s voice rose in a -shrill, terrible cry. He babbled and sputtered in consuming rage, but -I caught the current of his wild harangue. He had waited all the years -for this opportunity; he had followed her from Bandora, had laid all his -plans with infinite nicety to avenge the wreck which Leanor had made of -his life. - -But the woman laughed defiantly, tensely; laughed derisively, full in the -bearded face. - -“You have waited too long, Henry,” she said, evenly yet with a note of -triumph in her tone; “I’ve worn threadbare every allurement of life. -Today I came here seeking my last adventure—a sensation at once new and -ultimate—_death_!” - -It was here that the miracle supervened. - -Chagrin, fierce and awful, distorted the hairy vagabond’s face, and, -balancing himself precariously in the crazily whirling dugout, he -raised a great clenched fist. I once had seen a laughing man struck -by lightning. As the rending voltage shot through him the muscles of -his face had relaxed slowly, queerly, as if from incredulity, just as -the furious, drawn face of Henry Fayne relaxed now. The menacing fist -unclinched and fell limply at his side. - -Of all the examples of thwarted vengeance I had ever seen on the stage, -or off, this episode from real life was the most dramatic. - -The boat had circled swiftly in to the center of the vortex and now spun -crazily for a moment as though on a fixed pivot, like a weather-vane. -Then it capriciously resumed its first tactics, only it now raced -inversely in a rapidly widening circle, running well down in the water, -as though from some powerful submarine attraction. - -That the spurious boatman was a victim of some hopeless form of insanity -I was certain when I saw him drop to his knees and extend both his great -hands in evident entreaty to the woman who had stripped him of his -honor and, driven him, a driveling idio-maniac, into exile. Leanor sat -impassive, but the madman continued to supplicate. - -Never did my credulity undergo so mighty a strain as when, after a -moment, the woman reached out and locked her slim hands in his. It was a -strange picture, believe me! From my uncertain perch on the slimy ledge -of slate, I stared, thrilling deep in my being at this futile truce on -the brink of eternity. - -Its revolutions greatly widened and its speed diminished, the tiny boat -suddenly swerved from its circular course, bobbed upward as though a -great weight had been detached from its keel and then drifted like some -spent thing of life toward the west wall, where I crouched dumbfounded, -my breath hissing in my nostrils, my lungs heaving. - -Only now am I coming to the crux of this story of which the foregoing -forms a necessary prelude. - -Back at Batoga that same night, in an obscure corner of the wide cool -porch of the palm-environed sanitarium, Henry Fayne and Leanor, after -a long heart-to-heart talk alone, agreed to forgive and forget. Later -in the evening Fayne went down to the contiguous village to assemble -his meager belongings. They would be interesting souvenirs with which -to decorate the walls of the rehabilitated home. I found Leanor sitting -where he had left her on the porch, smiling enigmatically. - -“Can I act, or not?” she asked me rather abruptly as I came up. - -“Act?” I groped; “what do you mean?” - -She sat there, smiling mysteriously in the white moonlight, until I -at length prevailed upon her to pour into my incredulous ears how it -had flashed upon her, in the crucial moment at the whirlpool, that she -must convince Fayne that to destroy one who seeks death would give no -satisfaction to a seeker after vengeance. She had made him see that the -most effective way of wreaking his revenge would be to prevent her taking -her own life and force her to live with him again as in the old days. -What, indeed, could be greater punishment than that? - -So once again the wily adventuress had tricked poor Henry Fayne. It had -been a close thing, but her lightning wits had saved her to look forward -enchantedly to the prospect of other adventures. Though she had, in -fact, tired of life, she had weakened before death; yet the fortitude -of skillful artifice underlying that physical fear bespoke such a -resourcefulness as I had never before seen in any woman. - -She had spoken more truth than she knew when she said that Henry Fayne -was dead, for, mentally, he no longer existed. - -But Leanor had one more card to play. When she had outlined her campaign, -I sat aghast at the frank inhumanity of her plans for the morrow. She -had already made arrangements with the native officials of the nearby -village. She was to appear in court and testify, and I was to be summoned -to give evidence before the committing judge. Henry Fayne was to be -ruthlessly chucked into the Acorn Insane Asylum! - -After Leanor had retired to her apartment I lingered a while in the -fragrant night to smoke a cigar and meditate, for I was badly upset by -her pitiless resolve. As I sat reviewing the strange events of the day, -the dark figure of a man, half bent and retreating rapidly among the -dappled shadows of the palms, startled me unpleasantly. - -At my first glimpse of the skulker, some sixth sense told me that he had -been eavesdropping Leanor and me from under the elevated porch on which I -sat. As soon as the flitting shadow had melted into the gloom I slipped -off the porch and investigated. - -My half-formed suspicion was confirmed. The eavesdropper’s footprints -were quite distinct. He had crouched directly under the chairs which the -adventuress and I had occupied. - -I did not retire until an hour later. An indescribable feeling of dread -had, though for no adequate reason, begun to weigh upon my spirits and to -nag my nerves. - -The first faint glimmer of dawn was in the east when something touched -me softly on the shoulder. I remembered that I had left my porch window -open, and sprang up in a sudden flurry of alarm, but my nerves slackened -quickly when the intruder, a black Jamaican, showed me his watchman’s -badge. - -The old negro was afraid something had happened. He had heard stealthy -footfalls upstairs, and somebody’s bedroom door was wide open. On looking -into the room he had seen—! - -But at this point in his story he choked, overcome. He was an excitable -and superstitious old black at best, but now he was fairly beside himself -with a terror for which he had no explanation. The occupant of the room, -I surmised, had gone out on the porch, properly enough, to smoke an -early morning cigar. But the old watchman would not be reassured until I -consented to accompany him up to the second floor. - -I noted, as we advanced along the corridor, that a door stood ajar. I -tapped tentatively. No answer. I repeated the summons, louder. Still no -answer. I walked in. - -The moonlight that flooded the porch outside filtered in, subdued, -through the lace-curtained windows. It revealed a bed. In the center -of the bed was the figure of a woman—all in snow white save a single -dark-hued covering of some sort which sprawled across the full bosom. - -A nameless something made me fumble rather hurriedly for the electric -switch. The bright light showed what I had dreaded, almost expected. The -dark-colored garment was not a garment at all. It was blood. - -It dyed the white bosom repellently and, still welling from its fountain, -was fast forming a ragged little pool on the bedcovering. Fair over the -victim’s heart, the ornamented stag-horn handle of a heavy hunting-knife, -none of the blade visible, stood up like a sinister monument, somehow -increasingly familiar to my gaze; and after an instant’s reflection I -could have sworn—so plainly did my eyes visualize the motive for this -horror—that I beheld a single word scrawled in crimson along the mottled -staghorn handle: - -“_VENGEANCE!_” - - - - -Air Transportation Between Chicago and New York To Be Established - - -Chicagoans will soon be able to run down to New York on business early -one morning and be back home in time for breakfast the next day, if -the plans for dirigible service between the two cities carry through. -A number of prominent Americans are members of a corporation that is -building several huge, helium-filled balloons in the Schutte-Lanz -Company’s plant in Germany, according to Benedict Crowell, former -secretary of war, who is the president of the new corporation. The -airships will carry passengers and freight, it was announced. - - - - -_It Was a Frightful, Incredible Thing, Found in the Amazon Valley_ - -THE GRAY DEATH - -_By_ LOUAL B. SUGARMAN - - -Unwaveringly, my guest sustained my perplexed and angry stare. Silently, -he withstood the battering words I launched at him. - -He appeared quite unmoved by my reproaches, save for a dull red flush -that crept up and flooded his face, as now and then I grew particularly -bitter and biting in my tirade. - -At length I ceased. It was like hitting into a mass of feathers—there was -no resistance to my blows. He had made no attempt to justify himself. -After a momentous silence, he spoke his first word since we had entered -the room. - -“I’m sorry, my friend; more sorry than you can imagine, but—I couldn’t -help it. I simply could not touch her hand. The shock—so suddenly to come -upon her—to see her as she was—I tell you, I forgot myself. Please convey -to your wife my most abject apologies, will you? I am sorry, for I know I -should have liked her very much. But—now I must go.” - -“You can’t go out in this storm,” I answered. “It’s out of the question. -I’m sorry, too; sorry that you acted as you did—and more than sorry that -I spoke to you as I did, just now. But I was angry. Can you blame me? I’d -been waiting for this moment ever since I heard from you that you had -come back from the Amazon—the moment when you, my best friend, and my -wife were to meet. And then—why, damn it, man, I can’t understand it! To -pull back, to shrink away as you did; even to refuse to take her hand or -acknowledge the introduction! It was unbelievably rude. It hurt her, and -it hurt me.” - -“I know it, and that is why I am so very sorry about it all. I can’t -excuse myself, but I can tell you a story that may explain.” - -I saw, however, that for some reason he was reluctant to talk. - -“You need not,” I said. “Let’s drop the whole matter, and in the morning -you can make your amends to Laura.” - -Anthony shook his head. - -“It’s not pleasant to talk about, but that was not my reason for -hesitating. I was afraid you would not believe me if I did tell you. -Sometimes truth strains one’s credulity too much. But I will tell you. It -may do me good to talk about it, and, anyhow, it will explain why I acted -as I did. - -“Your wife came in just after we entered. She had not yet removed her -veil or gloves. They were gray. So was her dress. Her shoes—everything -was gray. And she stood there, her hand outstretched—all in that color—a -body covered with gray. I can’t help shuddering. _I can’t stand gray!_ -It’s the color of death. Can your nerves stand the dark?” - -I rose and switched off the lights. The room was plunged into darkness, -save for the flicker of the flames in the fireplace and the intermittent -flashes of lightning. The rain beat through the leafless branches outside -with a monotonous, slithering _swish_ and rattled like ghostly fingers -against the windows. - -“The light makes it hard to talk—of unbelievable things. One needs the -darkness to hear of hell.” - -He paused. The _swir-r-r_ of the rain crept into the stillness of the -room. My companion sighed. The firelight shone on his face, which floated -in the darkness—a disembodied face, grown suddenly haggard. - -“A good night for this story, with the wind crying like a lost soul in -the night. How I hate that sound! Ah, well!” - -There was a moment of silence. - -“It was not like this, though, that night when we started up the Amazon. -No. Then it was warm and soft, and the stars seemed so near. The air was -filled with scent of a thousand tropical blossoms. They grew rank on the -shore. - -“There were four of us—two natives, myself and Von Housmann. It is of -him I am going to tell you. He was a German—and a good man. A great -naturalist, and a true friend. He sucked the poison from my leg once, -when a snake had bitten me. I thanked him and said I’d repay him some -day. I did—sooner than I had thought—with a bullet! I could not bear to -see him suffer.” - -The man sat there, gazing into the flames—and I listened to the dripping -rain fingering the bare boughs and _tap-tap-tapping_ on the roof above. - -My friend looked up. - -“I was seeing his face in the flames. God help him!... We had traveled -for days—weeks—how long does not matter. We had camped and moved on; we -had stopped to gather specimens—always deeper into that evil undergrowth. -And as we moved on, Von Housmann and I grew close; one either grows to -love or hate in such circumstances, and Sigmund was not the sort of man -one would hate. I tell you, I loved that man! - -“One day we struck into a new place. We had long before left the tracks -of other expeditions. We _trekked_ along, unmindful of the exotic beauty -of our surroundings, when I saw our native, who was up ahead, stop short -and sniff the air. - -“We stopped, too, and then I noticed what the keener, more primitive -sense of our guide had detected first.” - - * * * * * - -“It was an odor. A strange odor, indefinable and sickening. It was filled -with foreboding—evil. It smelt—_gray_! I can not describe it any other -way. It smelt dead. It made me think of decay—decay, and mould and—ugly -things. I shuddered. I looked at Von Housmann, and I saw that he, too, -had noticed it. - -“‘What is that smell?’ I asked. - -“He shook his head. - -“‘Ach, dot iss new. I haf not smelled it before. But—I do not lige it. It -iss not goot. Smells is goot or bat—und dot is not goot. I say, I do not -lige dot smell.’ - -“Neither did I. We went ahead, cautiously now. A curious sense pervaded -the air. It puzzled me. Then it struck me: _silence_. Silence, as though -the music of the spheres had suddenly been snuffed out. It was the utter -cessation of the interminable chirping and chattering of the birds and -monkeys and other small animals. - -“We had become so accustomed to that multitudinous babel that its -absence was disturbing. It was—eerie. Yes, that’s the word. It made that -first impression of lifelessness more intense. Not death, you understand. -Even death has in it a thought of life, an element of being. But this was -just—lifelessness. - -“The gray odor had become so strong it was wellnigh unbearable. Then we -saw our guides running back to us. They rebelled. They refused to go -beyond the line of trees ahead. They said it was _tabu_. - -“That ended it. No promise, no threat, nothing would move them. Do you -know what a savage’s _tabu_ is? It is stronger than death. And this place -was _tabu_. So we left them there with our stuff, and Sigmund and I went -on alone. We reached the farthest line of trees and stopped on the edge -of a clearing. - -“I can’t describe that sight to you. But I can see it—good God, how I -can still see it! Sometimes I wake up in the night with that nightmarish -picture in my eyes, and my nostrils filled with that ghoulish stench. - -“It was a field of gray; almost, I might have said, a field of _living_ -gray. And yet, it did not give the impression of life. It moved, although -there was not a breath of wind; not a leaf on the trees quivered, but -that mass of gray wiggled and crawled and undulated as though it were a -huge gray shroud that was thrown over some monstrous jelly-like Thing. - -“And that Thing was writhing and twisting. The gray mass extended as far -as I could see ahead; to the right the sandy shore of the river stopped -it; and to the left and in front of us it terminated at a distance of a -few yards away from the trees where a belt of sand intervened. - -“I don’t know how long we stood there, my friend Von Housmann and I. It -fascinated us. At last he spoke. - -“‘_Heilige Mütter. Was kommt da?_ Vat in der name off all dot iss holy do -you call dot? Nefer haf I seen such before. Eferyvere I haf traffeled, -but nefer haf I seen a sight lige dot. I tell you, it makes my flesh -crawl!’ - -“‘It makes me sick to look at it,’ I answered. ‘It looks like—like living -corruption.’ - -“The old German shook his head. He was baffled. We knew we were looking -upon something that no living mortal had ever gazed upon before. And our -flesh crawled, as we watched that Thing writhing beneath its blanket of -gray. - -“We walked slowly and cautiously across the strip of sand to the edge of -the gray patch. As I bent over, the pungency of the odor bit into the -membrane of my nostrils like an acid, and my eyes smarted. - -“And then I saw something that drove all other thoughts from my mind. -The mass was a mosslike growth of tiny gray fungi. They were shaped like -miniature mushrooms, but out of the top of each grew a countless number -of antennae that twisted and writhed around ceaselessly in the air. - -“They seemed to be feeling and groping around for something, and it was -this incessant movement that gave to the patch that quivering undulation -which I had noticed before. I stared until my eyes ached. - -“‘What do you make of it?’ I asked my friend. - -“‘_Ach_, I do not know. It iss incompbrehensible. I haf nefer seen such -a—a t’ing in my whole, long life. It iss, I should say, some sort off -a fungoid growt’. Ya, it iss clearly dot. But der species—um, dot iss -_not_ so clear. Und dose liddle feelers; on a fungus dot iss new. It iss -unheard off. See, der _veddammte_ t’ings iss lige lifting fingers; dey -svay und tvist lige dey vas feeling for somet’ings, not? I am egseedingly -curious. Und, I am baffled—und, my frient, I do not lige dot.’ - -“Impatiently, he reached out a stick he was carrying: a newlycut, stout -cudgel of dried wood. He stirred around with it in the growth at his -feet. And then a cry broke from his lips. - -“‘_Ach, du lieber Gott—gnadig Gott im Himmel! Sieh’ da!_’ - -“I looked where he was pointing. His hand trembled violently. And little -wonder! The stick, for about twelve inches up, was a mass of gray! - -“And as I watched, I saw, steadily growing before my eyes, that awful -gray creep up and surround the wood. I’m not exaggerating; I tell you, -in less time than it takes to tell, it had almost reached Von Housmann’s -hand. He threw it from him with an exclamation of horror. - -“It fell in the gray growth and instantly vanished. It seemed to melt -away.” - - * * * * * - -“Sigmund looked at me. He was pale. At last he sighed. - -“‘So-o-o! Ve learn. On vood it grows. I might haf guessed. Dot iss der -reason dot no trees are here. It destroys dem. But so _schnell_; _ach_, -lige fire it growed. My frendt, I lige dot stuff lesser _als_ before. It -is not healt’y. But vat vill it not eat?’ - -“I handed him my rifle. He took it, and with the muzzle poked the growth. -Man, my hair fairly stood on end! Do you know anything about fungi? No? -Well, I have never known or heard of any vegetable growth that would -attack blue steel. But that stuff, I tell you, that rifle barrel sprouted -a crop of that gray moss as readily and as quickly as had the wood! - -“I grabbed the gun and lifted it out of the patch. Already several inches -of steel had been eaten—literally _eaten_—off. I held it up and watched -that damnable gray crawl along the barrel. It just seemed to melt the -metal. It melted like sealing wax, and great gray flakes dropped off to -the ground. - -“Nearer and near it came; to the rear sight, the trigger-guard, the -hammer. It was uncanny—like a dream. I stood there, paralyzed. I could -not believe what my eyes told me was true. I looked at Sigmund. His mouth -was open and his face was white as death. I laughed at his face. That -seemed to tear away the mist. He yelled and pointed, and I looked down. - -“Not two inches from my hand was that mass. I could see those feelers -reaching out toward my hand and I was sick. Instinctively, I threw the -gun from me; aimlessly, blindly. It fell on the sand belt outside the -gray mass. - -“Hardly had it struck the sand before the growth had reached the butt, -and then there was nothing to be seen but a tiny patch of that gray, -poisonous Thing. And as we looked, it began to melt. Gradually, steadily, -it was disappearing. - -“‘Quick, quick,’ shouted Von Housmann, and we ran over to the spot. By -bending over, we could see what was happening. - -“The feelers, or antennae, which we had noticed before, had vanished, but -instead, at the bases of each individual plant, were similar tendrils. -But more of them—thousands and thousands of them all feeling and groping -frantically about. And as they swayed and twisted and brushed the sand, -one by one they shriveled up and seemed to withdraw into the parent body. - -“And gradually this nucleus itself shrank and withered, until it was no -more than a tiny gray speck on the sand. Soon that was all that was left; -a lot of tiny whitish particles, much lighter in color than the original -plant, scattered around on the sand. - -“I looked at Von Housmann, and he looked at me. After a long interval, he -spoke. He spoke slowly, almost as though it were a painful effort. - -“‘Ant’ony, ve haf seen a—miracle. From vat, or how, or ven, dot -hell-growt’ sprang, I do not know. I do not know how many, many years it -has stood here; may be it has been for centuries. But I do know this: if -dot sand was not here—vell, I shudder to t’ink off vat vould be today.’ - -“I stared. - -“‘You do not understand? _Ach_, so! You haf vat happened to dot stick? -Und to dot gun of steel? So! Look, now.’ - -“He took off his hat and went over to the border of the patch. He -touched—just barely touched the brim of the hat to the gray matter and -held it up. Already a growth was moving up the linen. He nodded, then -threw it away, onto the sand. Speechless, we watched it fade away under -the merciless attack of that horrible stuff, and then, in turn, the gray -fungoid growth wither and disappear. - -“‘Now do you understand? Do you see vat I meant? Vood, steel, -linen—eferyt’ing vat it touches it _eats_. It grows fast—like flame in -dry sticks. All-consuming. Aber—_siest du_—dot sand—ven it touched dot, -it died. It starved. Und see! Look close—more closer still at dot sand. -Do you see anything odd about it?’ - -“I shook my head. It looked very fine and light, but I could not see -anything unusual. - -“‘No? Iss it not glass, dot sand? Look at it und at der sand vere dot -T’ing has not been, and see if it is not so different.’ - -“I picked up some sand from under my foot. And then I saw what _he_ had -seen at once. The sand in my hand was coarser, dirtier—in short, like -any fine-grained sand you may have seen. But the sand where the Grey had -fallen was clear, glasslike. It was almost transparent, and I saw that -what was there was a mass of silicon particles. I nodded. - -“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I see now. That stuff has eaten out every particle of -mineral, of dirt and dust, but not the silicon!’ - -“‘Egsactly! Und dot iss vat has safed us from—Gott only knows vot! I -do not know what dot stuff vill eat, but I _do_ know it vill not eat -silicon. Vy? _I_ do not know. Dot iss yet a mystery. So—it starts,—_ach_, -dot too, I do not know—but it starts somewhere. Und it eats und grows, -und grows and eats, and eferyt’ing vot it touches it consumes—egcept -sand. Sand stops it. - -“‘It eats out der stuff in der sand, but not der silica, und starves and -dies. It is a miracle. If der sand vas not here—_ach, Gott!_—it vould -keep on going until—vell—I do not know! I haf nefer seen dot before. I -am intrigued, und I am going to take dot stuff—oh, only a liddle bit—und -I shall not rest until I haf learned something about it. Und, because I -haf seen it does not lige sand, I vill make for it a cage—a liddle box of -glass, und study it lige it vas a bug. Not?’ - -“We returned to where our natives still stood with our packs. We quickly -fitted together some microscopic slides into a rough box and bound it -about with string. With it, we returned to the edge of the gray patch. -Von Housmann knelt down and carefully scooped up a bit of the fungus with -a glass spatula he had brought along. He dumped this into his box and -waited. In five minutes it had disappeared. He looked up blankly. - -“‘You forget, Sigmund,’ I said, smiling at his woeful expression. ‘It -starves on silicon. It won’t live in glass.’ - -“‘_Ach. Dumkopf!_ Of course! I haf forgot dot. But, ve vill fool dot -hell-plant. He goes yet on hunger-strike—no? Ve try now dot forcible -feeding.’ - -“He took out his knife and cut from a near-by tree several small -splinters. - -“Ve vill feed him, so. Dot vood, it vill be for him a greadt feast, und -he shall eat und eat, und we vill study him und see vot we vill see.’ - -“Laughing, he bent over and shook out the tiny gray residue which was in -the box. He dropped in a sliver of wood and was bending over to refill -his box when I felt a sting on my foot. I looked down, and my heart stood -still. - -“On my shoe, just in between the laces, was a spot of gray. I could not -move. I was cold. I can not describe how I felt, but I seemed turned to -stone. My flesh quivered and shrank and I was sick—very sick. Sigmund -looked up, startled, and then he looked at my feet. - -“The next thing I knew I was on my back, my foot in his hand. One slash -of his knife across the thongs which laced my boot, and he jerked it off. - -“The biting grew worse. I heard him gasp, and then I felt a sharp pain. -My head swam and I must have fainted. I regained consciousness—I don’t -know how soon after—and I found myself back under the trees. I looked -at my foot, which was throbbing and burning like fire. It was swathed -in a bandage that Von Housmann had taken from his emergency kit and was -wrapping around the instep. It was deeply stained with blood. I moved, -and he looked up. He smiled when he saw I was conscious. - -“‘Dot was a close shave—yes? It had just eaten into der shoe as I pulled -it off und one spot—lige a bencil dot—on your skin vas gray. So I cut it -out and all around it, und so you haf a hole in your foot, but—you haf -your foot. Now so! You lie here, und I get der niggers and ve take you to -bed.’ - -“A tent was soon erected and I was carried into it. For two days I lay -there, delirious half the time. Sigmund never left my side. He even -slept there. He was insistent that it was his fault. He said one of the -apparently dead fungi had dropped on my shoe and had revived there. That -is, the plant, instead of dying, had shriveled up, but the life-nucleus -was still strong. I shudder even now when I think of what might have been. - -“At the end of the third day I was able to hobble about a little with -the aid of a cane. That afternoon Sigmund came to me and asked if I -would care to go with him to fill his little glass box. I refused, and -he laughed. It was the last time I ever heard him laugh. I begged him to -leave that stuff alone. - -“Still laughing, he made some light reply and left me. I lay in my cot. -I was filled with forebodings. The heat was intense, and I must have -dropped off to sleep. I dreamed horrible, troublesome, weird dreams. I -awoke, bathed in a cold sweat. I felt sure something was wrong, that some -one was calling for me. I got to my feet and left my tent. No one was in -sight. I tried to laugh at my premonition. I bitterly regretted that I -had allowed my friend to override my persuasions. - -“Hurrying as much as was possible, I started toward the clearing. My -wound throbbed and ached. It tortured me. I seemed weighed down. Once I -stumbled in my eagerness. It was horrible. Like a nightmare. - -“I must have covered half the distance when I heard a scream. What -a shriek it was! I wake up nights even now hearing it. It was -unrecognizable. Like some unearthly animal. Just that one scream. My -stick hindered me. I threw it away and ran. - -“My blood was cold in my veins, but I felt not one twinge of pain in my -_foot_. At last I came to the edge of the clearing. And there—God, it -makes me sick even now to think of it.” - - * * * * * - -The speaker paused; his face was chalky, and he shuddered and buried his -face in his hands. I think he was crying. - -Outside, the wind still howled, dully, monotonously, eerily. Sometimes it -would shriek and scream. Then my friend’s voice again—level, dead, cold. - -“I looked out; I saw Sigmund standing on the sand. I can see him as -plainly as though he were here now. His face was ashen. He was looking -down. At his feet were the fragments of the glass box he had made. - -“He was holding out his hands, looking at them. They were gray. And they -writhed and twisted, but his arms were still. He was not even trembling. -My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and my throat was dry—but at -last I called to him. - -“‘Sigmund—Sigmund!’ I cried. ‘For God’s sake—’ - -“He looked up, and, I tell you, I never want to see such a face again! -I can never forget it. The face of a soul in torture. He looked at me -and held out his arms. His hands were gone—flaked off in large, gray, -writhing drops to the sand at his feet! - -“He tried to smile, but couldn’t. - -“Another gray—Thing—dropped off. I was dizzy with sickness. It was -unbelievable. And then he spoke. His voice was well-nigh unrecognizable. -It croaked and broke: - -“‘Done for, my friendt. I feel it eating to my heart. Be merciful and -help me. _Shoot_—quick, through the foreheadt!’ - -“His words beat through the stupor clouding my brain, I started toward -him—hands out-stretched. I could not speak. - -“‘_Um Gottes Willen, bleibt da!_ Stop! Stop!’ - -“The words brought me up to a stop. - -“‘Sigmund! My friend! What—?’ - -“‘Do not come near me! Vould you also be so tormented? Vat dot Gray -touches it consumes. Do not argue, I say, but _shoot!_ _Heilige Mütter!_ -Vy do you not shoot?’ - -“His voice rose into a shriek of agony. What was left of one arm had -sloughed off—the other was almost gone. A little mound of gray grew -larger at his feet. His flesh was consumed; skin, blood and bone, -absorbed by that vile gray Thing, and he shrieked in agony and prayer. -Both arms were gone, and the stuff at his feet had already begun to cut -through his boots. - -“I shot him—between his eyes. I saw him fall, and I fainted. When I came -to, there was only a mound of tiny gray fungi, greedily reaching their -hellish tentacles for sustenance and slowly shriveling up into tiny light -gray specks of dust on a glossy patch of sand.” - - - - -Savants No Longer Know All Things - - -“Men in the business of knowing things have taken a tip from the -plumbers, carpenters and plasterers,” announced Friar McCollister, one -of the University of Chicago literati. “No longer is it possible to go -to a hoary old gentleman with a pile of books and a skull on his desk -and ask him any question, from the date of the birth of Copernicus to -the conjugations of the verb ‘to know’ in Sanscrit, and get an answer. -The scholar nowadays has learned to say what the plumber says when you -ask him to fix the hole he has made in the wall: ‘That is not in my -department.’ I found this out the other day when I tried to get some -information on the discovery of a human skull three million years old. - -“First, I went to the information office of the University. There I -encountered a sprightly young man who turned out to be a professor of -sociology. But he didn’t know anything about men three million years old. -He only studied living men, he said. ‘Better go over to Haskell Museum,’ -he told me. ‘They have some skulls and mummies over there.’ - -“I ran up three flights of stairs and into a dusty old room where I saw -a Dr. Edgerton. He was copying strange characters out of a book yellow -with age. When I put my question he replied that the only ancients he -knew were Egyptian mummies. He said I should see an anthropologist. Back -to the information office to see where they kept the anthropologists. - -“They sent me up to Walker Museum, where a bland young man said, ‘Freddie -Starr is not in, but you don’t want an anthropologist, anyway. You want -to see an ethnologist.’ - -“When I found one, after dogging him all over the campus, he told me that -the matter really belonged in the department of geology. From there they -sent me to see the department of paleontology. At last I located it in -a cubby-hole of a museum which I didn’t even know was there, although I -have been on the campus three years. - -“‘But, my dear sir,’ replied the head of the department to my -question, ‘that is not in my department. What you want is a vertebrate -paleontologist, and I am only a plain paleontologist. At present we have -no vertebrate paleontologist at the University. The last one died a few -years ago.’ - -“Well, I gave up my search,” said Mr. McCollister. “This age of -specialization is too much for me.” - - - - -Ancient Legend Recalled When Misfortune Attends Tut’s Discoverers - - -There is an old legend to the effect that whoever molests the final -resting-place of a Pharaoh will be afflicted with the curse of the -ancient rulers; and recent events have revived this superstition. - -After thirty-three years of patient, ceaseless toil, Howard Carter, the -now famous Egyptologist, discovered the tomb of a powerful Pharaoh. He -was a very sincere man, and devoted to his life work all of his energy. -Just when success and reward for his labor was within his grasp, he was -stricken down with a baffling disease. His condition became very serious -and physicians said that if he lived he would probably be an invalid for -a long time. Shortly before Carter’s illness, Lord Carnarvon, who was -financing the expedition, and who was personally supervising the work, -suddenly died. - -Nobody seems to know just what killed him. Some attribute his death to -the effects of an insect bite, some say that he was poisoned by some -ancient death-potion with which he came in contact while in the tomb, and -others declare that his death was the vengeance of King Tut-Ankh-Amen. - -If such a legend could be credited anywhere, the Theban valley would -be that place. By day nothing disturbs the place except the sound of -the pick-axes and shovels of the native workmen. By night the stillness -is broken only by the hooting of owls and the cries of jackals and -wild-cats. The spectator is awed by the solemnity of the great, -precipitous sandstone cliffs that stand sentinel on either side of the -valley. In the midst of the silence and solitude one feels himself -standing on the brink of two worlds, gazing into a vista of the unknown. - - - - -_The Author of “Whispering Wires” Offers Another Thriller to WEIRD TALES -Readers_— - -The Voice in the Fog - -_By_ HENRY LEVERAGE - - -The _Seriphus_ was a ten thousand ton, straight bow ocean tanker, and -her history was the common one of Clyde-built ships—a voyage here and -a passage there, charters by strange oil companies, petrol for Brazil, -crude petroleum that went to Asia (for anointment purposes among the -heathen) and once there was a hurried call to some unpronounceable Aegean -port where the _Seriphus_ acted against the Turks in their flare-up after -the Great War. - -The ordinary and usual—the up and down the trade routes—passed away from -the _Seriphus_ when Ezra Morgan, senior captain in the service of William -Henningay and Son, took over the tanker and drove her bow into strange -Eastern seas, loading with oil at California and discharging cargo in a -hundred unknown ports. - -Of Ezra Morgan it was said that he had the daring of a Norseman and -the thrift of a Maine Yankee; he worked the _Seriphus_ for everything -the tanker could give William Henningay and Son; he ranted against the -outlandish people of the Orient and traded with them, on the side, for -all that he could gain for his own personal benefit. - -[Illustration] - -Trading skippers and engineers with an inclination toward increasing -wage by rum-running and smuggling were common in the Eastern service. -Ezra Morgan’s rival in that direction aboard the _Seriphus_ ruled the -engine-room and took pride in declaring that every passage was a gold -mine for the skipper and himself. - -The chief engineer of the _Seriphus_ saw no glory in steam, save -dollars; he mopped up oil to save money. His name was Paul Richter—a -brutal-featured man given to boasting about his daughter, ashore, and -what a lady he was making of her. - -Paul Richter—whom Morgan hated and watched—was far too skilled in -anything pertaining to steam and its ramifications to be removed from his -position aboard the _Seriphus_. Henningay, Senior, believed in opposing -forces on his many tankers—it led to rivalry and efficiency, instead of -closeheadedness and scheming against owners. - -The _Seriphus_, after a round passage to Laichau Bay, which is in the -Gulf of Pechili, returned to San Francisco and was dry-docked near -Oakland, for general overhauling. - -Richter, after making an exact and detailed report to Henningay, Jr., -visited the opera, banked certain money he had made on the round-passage, -then went south to his daughter’s home. He found trouble in the house; -Hylda, his daughter, had a heart affair with a marine electrician, -Gathright by name, a young man with a meager wage and unbounded ambition. - -Through the Seven Seas, from the time of his Bavarian wife’s death, from -cancer of the breast, Richter, chief engineer of the _Seriphus_, had -sweated, slaved, saved and smuggled contraband from port in order to say: - -“This is my daughter! _Look at her!_” - -Now, as Richter discovered, Hylda, twenty-seven years of age, somewhat -prim and musical, had given her promise to an electrician whom the -engineer believed was not fit to dust her shoes. Richter, used to -breaking and thrashing coolie oilers, ordered Gathright from the house -and locked up his daughter. - -She cried for seven days. Gathright was seen in town. Richter’s rage gave -way to an engineer’s calculation. - -“What for I study in University and college? Why do I hold certificates? -I fix Gathright!” - -No oil was smoother than Richter’s well-laid plan; he sent Hylda away and -met Gathright. - -“All right about my daughter,” he told the electrician. “You go one -voyage with me—we’ll see Henningay—I’ll fix you up so that you can draw -one hundred and fifty dollars in wage, with a rating as electrician -aboard the _Seriphus_.” - -Gathright went with Richter to San Francisco. They recrossed the Bay, -without seeing Henningay, Jr., and, at dusk, climbed over the shoring -timbers and went aboard the _Seriphus_. Richter’s voice awoke echoes in -the deserted ship and dry-dock: - -“Come, I show you my dynamo and motors. We go to the boiler-room first, -where the pumps are.” - -The boiler-room, forward the engine-room of the tanker, was a place -of many snakelike pipes, valves, sea-plates and oily seepage from the -feedtanks. The _Seriphus_ was a converted oil-burner, having been built -before crude petroleum was used for steaming purposes. Three double-end -Scotch boilers made the steam that drove the tanker’s triple-expansion -engine. - -Richter knew the way down to the boiler-room, blindfolded. He struck -matches, however, to guide Gathright, and remarked that the newer ships -of Henningay’s fleet had a storage-battery reserve for lighting purposes -when the dynamo ceased running. - -Gathright, somewhat suspicious of Hylda’s father, took care to keep -two steps behind the chief-engineer. They reached and ducked under -the bulkhead beam where the door connected the engine-room with the -boiler-room. Richter found a flashlamp, snapped it on, swung its rays -around and about as if showing Gathright his new duties. - -“There’s a motor-driven feed-pump,” he said. “Something’s the matter with -the motor’s commutator. It sparks under load—can you fix it up?” - -There was a professional challenge in the chief engineer’s voice; -Gathright forgot caution, got down on his knees, leaned toward the motor -and ran one finger over the commutator bars. They seemed polished and -free from carbon. - -Richter reversed his grip on the flashlamp, swung once, twice, and -smashed the battery-end of the lamp down on Gathright’s head, just over -the top of the electrician’s right ear. - -Gathright fell as if pole-axed and dropped with his hands twitching on a -metal plate. - -Striking a match, Richter surveyed the electrical engineer. - -“Good!” he grunted. “Now I put you where nobody’ll ever look—unless I -give the order.” - - * * * * * - -A stump of candle, stuck by wax to a feed-pipe, allowed Richter -illumination sufficient to work by. Swearing, sweating, listening once, -he fitted a spanner to bolt-heads on a man-plate in the spare boiler and -removed the stubborn bolts until the plate clanged at his feet. - -Gathright was a slender man, easy to insert through the man-hole; Richter -had no trouble at all lifting the electrician and thrusting him out of -sight. - -It seemed to the engineer, as he hesitated, that Hylda’s lover moaned -once and filled the boiler with a hollow sound. - -Hesitation passed; and Richter swallowed his superstitious fears, put -back the man-hole plate, bolted it tighter than it ever was before, -almost stripping the threads, and stepped back, mopping his brow with the -sleeve of a shore-coat. - -There was nothing very unusual in Richter’s further actions that evening. -The ship-keeper, who came aboard at daylight, long before the dry-dock -men began work, noticed a wet shore-hose, a thin plume of steam aft the -tanker’s squat funnel, and there was a trailing line of smoke drifting -aslant the _Seriphus’_ littered deck. - -“Been testing that spare boiler,” explained Richter, when the ship-keeper -ducked through the bulkhead door. “I think it’s tight an’ unscaled, but -th’ starboard one will need new tubes and general cleaning. Get me some -soap—I want to wash up.” - -Richter dried his hands on a towel, tossed it toward the motor-driven -feed-pump, then, when he left the boiler-room, his glance ranged from the -tightly-bolted man-hole cover up to a gauge on a steam-pipe. The gauge -read seventy-pounds—sufficient to parboil a heavier man than Hylda’s -lover. - -“I think that was a good job,” concluded the first engineer of the -_Seriphus_. - -The second engineer of the tanker, a Scot with a burr on his voice like a -file rasping the edge of a plate, stood watching Richter balance himself -as the stout chief came along a shoring-beam. - -“I mark ye ha’ steam up,” commented the Scotchman, when Richter climbed -over the dry dock’s wall. - -“Yes, in the spareboiler.” - -Mr. S. V. Fergerson tapped a pipe on his heel. - -“I made an inspection, myself, of that, not later than yesterday -forenoon. She was tight as a drum an’ free from scale. I left th’ -man-hole—” - -“Damn badly gasketed!” growled Richter. - -Fergerson started to explain something; but the chief was in a hurry to -get away from sight of the _Seriphus_. There was a memory on the tanker -that required a drink or two in order to bring forgetfulness. Richter -gave the Scot an order that admitted of no answering back. - -“Go aboard an’ blow off steam! That boiler’s all right!” - -A roar, when Richter strode past the dry-dock’s sheds, caused him to -wheel around and listen. Fergerson, according to orders, was blowing off -the steam from the spare boiler. - -Something, perhaps water or waste, clogged the pipe; and the escaping -vapor whistled, sputtered, and rose to a high piercing note that sounded -to the chief’s irritated nerves like the cry of a soul in agony. The note -died, resumed its piercing screeching. Richter’s arm and hand shook when -he mopped his brow and drew a wet sleeve down with an angry motion. - -In fancy the noise that came from the _Seriphus’_ starboard side, echoed -and deflated by the hollow dock, was Gathright calling for Hylda. Richter -covered his ears and staggered away. - - * * * * * - -Ezra Morgan hastened such repairs as were required for making the -_Seriphus_ ready for sea; the tanker left the dry-dock, steamed out the -Golden Gate, and took aboard oil at a Southern California port. - -All tanks, a well-lashed deck load of cased-lubricant—consigned to a -railroad in Manchuri—petroleum for the furnaces, brought the _Seriphus_ -down to the Plimsoll Mark; she drove from shore and crossed the Pacific -where, at three God-forsaken Eastern roadsteads, she unloaded and made -agents for the oil-purchasers happy with shipments delivered on time. - -The romance of caravan routes, and pale kerosene lamps burning in -Tartar tents, escaped both Ezra Morgan and Richter; they went about -their business of changing American and English minted gold for certain -contrabands much wanted in the States. The chief engineer favored -gum-opium as a road to riches; Ezra dealt in liquors and silks, uncut -gems and rare laces. - -Fortunately for the chief engineer’s peace of mind, the spare, double-end -Scotch boiler was not used on the Russian voyage. Gathright was forgotten -and Hylda, safe in an eastern music school, was not likely to take up -with another objectionable lover. Richter, relieved of a weight, went -about the engine-room and boiler-room humming a score of tunes, all set -to purring dynamos, clanking pumps, and musical cross-heads. - -At mid-Pacific, on a second voyage—this time to an oilless country, if -ever there were one, Mindanao—a frightened water-tender came through -the bulkhead door propelled by scalding steam, and there was much to do -aboard the _Seriphus_. The port boiler had blown out a tube; the spare, -midship boiler was filled with fresh water and the oil-jets started. - -Richter, stripped to the waist, it being one hundred and seventeen -degrees hot on deck, drove his force to superhuman effort. Ezra Morgan, -seven hours after the accident, had the steam and speed he ordered, in no -uncertain tones, through the bridge speaking-tube. - -Fergerson, a quiet man always, had occasion, the next day, to enter the -chief’s cabin, where Richter sat writing a letter to Hylda, which he -expected to post via a homeward bound ship. Richter glared at the second -engineer. - -“That spare boiler—” began Fergerson. - -“What of it?” - -“Well, mon, it’s been foamin’ an’ a gauge-glass broke, an’ there’s -something wrong wi’ it.” - -“We can’t repair th’ port boiler until we reach Mindanao.” - -Fergerson turned to go. - -“Ye have m’ report,” he said acidly. “That boiler’s bewitched, or -somethin’.” - -“Go aft!” snarled Richter, who resumed writing his letter. - -He hesitated once, chewed on the end of the pen, tried to frame the words -he wanted to say to Hylda. Then he went on: - - “—_expect to return to San Francisco within thirty-five days. - Keep up your music—forget Gathright—I’ll get you a good man, - with straight shoulders and a big fortune, when I come back and - have time to look around._” - -Richter succeeded in posting the letter, along with the Captain’s mail, -when the _Seriphus_ spoke a Government collier that afternoon and sheered -close enough to toss a package aboard. Ezra Morgan leaned over the -bridge-rail and eyed the smudge of smoke and plume of steam that came -from the tanker’s squat funnel. He called for Richter, who climbed the -bridge-ladder to the captain’s side. - -“We’re only logging nine, point five knots,” said Ezra Morgan. “Your -steam is low—it’s getting lower. What’s th’ matter? Saving oil?” - -“That spare boiler is foaming,” the chief explained. - -“Damn you and your spare boiler! What business had you leaving San -Francisco with a defective boiler? Your report to Mr. Henningay stated -that everything was all right in engine-room and boiler-room.” - -“Foam comes from soap or—something else in the water.” - -“Something else—” - -Richter got away from Ezra Morgan on a pretense of going below to the -boiler-room. Instead of going below, however, he went aft and leaned -over the taffrail. Somehow or other, he feared that spare boiler and the -consequence of conscience. - -Limping, with three-quarters of the necessary steam pressure, the -_Seriphus_ reached Mindanao and was forced to return to California -without repairs to the port boiler. While repairs, new tubes and -tube-sheet were put in place by boilersmiths, Richter saw his daughter, -who had come west from music school. - -The change in her was pronounced; she spoke not at all of Gathright, -whose disappearance she could not understand; and Richter, keen where his -daughter was concerned, realized that her thinness and preoccupation was -on account of the missing electrician. - -“I get you a fine fellow,” he promised Hylda. - -He brought several eligible marine engineers to the house. Hylda snubbed -them and cried in secret. - -An urgent telegram called Richter back to the _Seriphus_. He made two -long voyages, one down Chili-way, the other half around the world, before -the tanker’s bow was turned toward California. Much time had elapsed from -the night he had thrust Gathright into the spare boiler and turned on the -oil-jets beneath its many tubes. Once, in Valparaiso, an under engineer -pointed out red rust leaking from the gauge-glass of the spare boiler. - -“Looks like blood,” commented this engineer. - -Richter scoffed, but that afternoon he drank himself stupid on kummel, -obtained from an engineer’s club ashore. Another time, just after the -tanker left the port of Aden on her homebound passage, a stowaway crawled -out from beneath the cold boiler and gave Richter the fright of his life. - -“Why, mon,” said Fergerson, who was present in the boiler-room, “that’s -only a poor wisp o’ an Arab.” - -“I thought it was a ghost,” blabbered Richter. - -Barometer pressure rose when the _Seriphus_ neared mid-Pacific. Ezra -Morgan predicted a typhoon before the tanker was on the longitude of -Guam. Long rollers came slicing across the _Seriphus’_ bow, drenched the -forecastle, filled the ventilators and flooded the boiler-room. - -Richter went below, braced himself in the rolling engine-room, listened -to his engines clanking their sturdy song, then waddled over the gratings -and ducked below the beam that marked the bulkhead door. An oiler in high -rubber-boots lunged toward the chief engineer. - -“There’s something inside th’ spare boiler!” shouted the man. “Th’ -boiler-room crew won’t work, sir.” - -Richter waded toward a frightened group all of whom were staring at -the spare boiler. A hollow rattling sounded when the tanker heaved and -pitched—as if some one were knocking bony knuckles against the stubborn -iron plates. - -“A loose bolt,” whispered Richter. “Keep th’ steam to th’ mark, or I’ll -wipe a Stillson across th’ backs of all of you,” he added in a voice that -they could hear and understand. - -Superstition, due to the menacing storm and high barometer, the uncanny -noises in the racked boiler-room, Richter’s bullying manner, put fear in -the hearts of the deck crew. Oil-pipes clogged, pumps refused to work, -valves stuck and could scarcely be moved. - -“I’ve noo doot,” Fergerson told his Chief, “there’s a ghost taken up its -abode wi’ us.” - -Richter drank quart after quart of trade-gin. - - * * * * * - -The barometer became unsteady, the sky hazy, the air melting hot, and a -low, rugged cloud bank appeared over the _Seriphus’_ port bow. - -Down fell the barometer, a half-inch, almost, and the avalanche of rain -and wind that struck the freighter was as if Thor was hammering her iron -plates. - -Ezra Morgan, unable to escape from the typhoon’s center, prepared to ride -out the storm by bringing the _Seriphus_ up until she had the sea on the -bow, and he had held her there by going half speed ahead. A night of -terror ruled the tanker; the decks were awash, stays snapped, spume rose -and dashed over the squat funnel aft the bridge. - -Morning, red-hued, with greenish patches, revealed a harrowed ocean, -waves of tidal height, and astern lay a battered hulk—a freighter, -dismasted, smashed, going down slowly by the bow. - -“A Japanese tramp,” said Ezra Morgan. “Some _Marau_ or other, out of the -Carolines bound for Yokohama.” - -Richter, stupid from trade-gin, was on the bridge with the Yankee skipper. - -“We can’t help her,” the engineer said heavily. “I think we got all we -can do to save ourselves.” - -Ezra Morgan entertained another opinion. The storm had somewhat subsided, -and the wind was lighter, but the waves were higher than ever he had -known them. They broke over the doomed freighter like surf on a reef. - -“Yon’s a distress signal flying,” said Ezra Morgan. “There’s a few seamen -aft that look like drowned rats. We’ll go before th’ sea—I’ll put th’ sea -abart th’ beam, an’ we’ll outboard oil enough to lower a small-boat an’ -take those men off that freighter.” - -The maneuver was executed, the screw turned slowly, oil was poured -through the waste-pipes and spread magically down the wind until the -freighter’s deck, from aft the forehouse, could be seen above the waves. - -Over the patch of comparative calm oars dipped, and a mate, in charge of -the small boat lowered from the _Seriphus_, succeeded in getting off the -survivors who were clinging to the freighter’s taffrail. - -The small boat lived in a sea that had foundered big ships. It returned -to the tanker’s bow; and the four men, bruised, broken, all half-dead -from immersion, were hoisted to the forepeak and taken aft. Two were -Japanese sailors and two were Americans—a wireless operator and an -engineer. The engineer had a broken leg which required setting, and the -wireless operator was in a bad fix; wreckage had stove in his features, -and twisted his limbs. - -Ezra Morgan was a rough and ready surgeon-doctor; he turned the -_Seriphus_ over to the first-mate and made a sick room out of Richter’s -cabin. The chief protested. - -“Get below to your damn steam!” roared Ezra Morgan. “You hated to see me -bring aboard these poor seamen; you said I wasted fuel oil; your breath -smells like a gin-mill. Below with you, sir!” - -The engine-room and boiler-room of the tanker, she being in water -ballast, was not unlike an inferno; the first-mate, acting on Ezra -Morgan’s instructions, drove the _Seriphus_ at three-quarter speed into a -series of head-on waves; the ship rolled and yawed, tossed, settled down -astern, then her screw raced in mingled foam and brine. - -Richter’s stomach belched gas; he became sea-sick, climbed into a -foul-smelling “ditty-box” of a cabin, aft the engine-room, and attempted -to sleep off the effect of the gin. Picture-post-cards, mostly of -actresses, a glaring electric over the bunk, oil and water swishing the -metal deck below, and the irritating clank of irregular-running engines -drove sleep away from him. - -Fergerson, the silent second-engineer, came into the “ditty-box” at eight -bells, or four o’clock. Fergerson’s thumb jerked forward. - -“I’ll have t’ use that spare boiler,” said he. - -“What’s th’ matter, now?” - -“Feed-pipes clogged in starb’ard one, sir.” - -“Use it,” said Richter. - -Steam was gotten up on the spare, double-end Scotch boiler; the -starboard boiler was allowed to cool; Fergerson, despite the tanker’s -rolling motion, succeeded in satisfying Ezra Morgan by keeping up the -three-quarter speed set by the skipper. - -Richter sobered when the last of the trade-gin was gone; the _Seriphus_ -was between Guam and ’Frisco; the heavy seas encountered were the -afterkick of the simoon. - -Rolling drunkenly, from habit, the chief went on the bridge and asked -about getting back his comfortable cabin aft. Ezra Morgan gave him no -satisfaction. - -“Better stay near your boilers,” advised the captain. “Everything’s gone -to hell, sir, since you changed from kummel to gin!” - -“Are not th’ injured seamen well yet?” - -“Th’ wireless chap’s doing all right—but th’ engineer of that Japanese -freighter is hurt internally. You can’t have that cabin, this side of San -Francisco.” - -“What were two Americans doing in that cheap service?” - -Ezra Morgan glanced sharply at Richter. - -“Everybody isn’t money mad—like you. There’s many a good engineer, and -mate, too, in th’ Japanese Merchant Marine. Nippon can teach us a thing -or two—particularly about keeping Scotch boilers up to th’ steaming -point.” - -This cut direct sent Richter off the bridge; he encountered a bandaged -and goggled survivor of the freighter’s wreck at the head of the -engine-room ladder. The wireless operator, leaning on a crutch whittled -by a bo’sain, avoided Richter, who pushed him roughly aside and descended -the ladder, backward. - -White steam, lurid oaths, Scotch anathema from the direction of the -boiler-room, indicated more trouble. Fergerson came from forward and -bumped into Richter, so thick was the escaping vapor. - -“Out o’ my way, mon,” the second engineer started to say, then clamped -his teeth on his tongue. - -“What’s happened, now!” queried Richter. - -“It’s that wicked spare boiler—she’s aleak an’ foamin’, an’ there’s water -in th’ fire-boxes.” - -Richter inclined his bullet shaped head; he heard steam hissing and -oilers cursing the day they had signed on the _Seriphus_. A blast when a -gasket gave way, hurtled scorched men between Richter and Fergerson; a -whine sounded from the direction of the boiler-room, the whine rose to an -unearthly roar: Richter saw a blanket of white vapor floating about the -engine’s cylinders. This vapor, to his muddled fancy, seemed to contain -the figure of a man wrapped in a winding shroud. - -He clapped both hands over his eyes, hearing above the noise of escaping -steam a call so distinct it chilled his blood. - -“_Hylda!_” - - * * * * * - -Now there was that in the ghostly voice that brought Richter’s -gin-swollen brain to the realization of the thing he had done in -disposing of Gathright by bolting him in the spare boiler. - -No good luck had followed that action; Hylda was still disconsolate; -trade and smuggling was at a low ebb; there was talk, aboard and ashore, -of reducing engineers’ and skippers’ wage to the bone. - -Richter had a Teutonic stubbornness; Ezra Morgan had certainly turned -against his chief engineer; the thing to do was to lay the ghostly -voice, make what repairs were necessary in the boiler-room, and give the -tanker’s engines the steam they needed in order to make a quick return -passage to San Francisco and please the Henningays. - -An insane rage mastered Richter—the same red-vision he had experienced -when he threw Gathright out of his daughter’s house. He lowered his -bullet head, brushed the curling vapors from his eyes, and plunged -through the bulkhead door, bringing up in scalding steam before the after -end of the midship, or spare boiler. - -Grotesquely loomed all three boilers. They resembled humped-camels -kneeling in a narrow shed by some misty river. Steam in quantity came -hissing from the central camel; out of the furnace-doors, from a -feed-pipe’s packing, around a flange where the gauge-glass was riveted. - -The _Seriphus_ climbed a long Pacific roller, steadied, then rocked in -the trough between seas; iron plates, gratings, flue-cleaners, scrapers, -clattered around Richter who felt the flesh on neck and wrist rising into -water blisters. - -No one had thought to close the globe-valve in the oil supply line, or to -extinguish the fires beneath the spare and leaking boiler. Richter groped -through a steam cloud, searching for the hand-wheel on the pipe line. All -the metal he touched was simmering hot. - -A breath of sea air came down a ventilator; Richter gulped this air and -tried to locate the globe-valve with the iron wheel. Vision cleared, he -saw the red and open mouth of the central camel—the flannel-like flames -and he heard through toothed-bars a voice calling, “Hylda!” - -Fergerson and a water tender dragged their chief from the boiler room by -the heels; blistered, with the skin peeled from his features, Richter’s -eyes resembled hot coals in their madness. Blabbering nonsense, the -engineer gave one understandable order: - -“Put out th’ fire, draw th’ water, search inside th’ spare boiler—there’s -something there, damit!” - -Ezra Morgan came below, while the spare boiler was cooling, and entered -Richter’s temporary cabin—the “ditty-box” with the play actresses’ -pictures glued everywhere. Fergerson had applied rude doctoring—gauze -bandages soaked in petroleum—on face and arms. - -“What’s th’ matter, man?” asked Ezra Morgan. “Have you gone mad?” - -“I heard some one calling my daughter, Hylda.” - -“Where do you keep your gin?” - -“It’s gone! Th’ voice was there inside th’ spare boiler. Did Fergerson -look; did he find a skeleton, or—” - -Ezra Morgan pinched Richter’s left arm, jabbed home a hypodermic -containing morphine, and left the chief engineer to sleep out his -delusions. Fergerson came to the “ditty-box” some watches later. Richter -sat up. - -“What was in th’ spare boiler?” asked the chief. - -“Scale, soda, a soapy substance.” - -“Nothing else?” - -“Why, mon, that’s enough to make her foam.” - -Richter dropped back on the bunk and closed his lashless eyes. - -“Suppose a man, a stowaway, had crawled through th’ aft man-hole, an’ -died inside th’ boiler? Would that make it foam—make th’ soapy substance?” - -“When could any stowaway do that?” - -Richter framed his answer craftily: “Say it was done when th’ _Seriphus_ -was at Oakland that time th’ boilers were repaired in dry-dock.” - -Fergerson drew on his memory. “Th’ time, mon, ye went aboard an’ tested -th’ spare boiler? Th’ occasion when ye took th’ trouble to rig up a -shore-hose in order to fill th’ boiler wi’ water?” - -“Yes.” - -“Did ye ha’ a man-hole plate off th’ boiler?” - -“I removed th’ after-end plate, then went for th’ hose. We had no steam -up, you remember, and our feed-pumps are motor-driven.” - -“Ye think a mon might ha’ crawled through to th’ boiler during your -absence?” - -“Yes!” - -“Ye may b’ right—but if one did he could ha’ escaped by th’ fore man-hole -plate. I had that off, an’ wondered who put it back again so carelessly. -Ye know th’ boiler is a double-ender—wi’ twa man-holes.” - -Richter was too numbed to show surprise. Fergerson left the “ditty-box” -and pulled shut the door. The tanker, under reduced steam, made slow -headway toward San Francisco. - -One morning, a day out from soundings, the chief engineer awoke, felt -around in the gloom, and attempted to switch on the electric light. - -He got up and threw his legs over the edge of the bunk. A man sat leaning -against the after plate. Richter blinked; the man, from the goggles on -him and the crutch that lay across his knees, was the wireless operator -who had been rescued from a sea grave. - -“No need for light,” said the visitor in a familiar voice. “You can guess -who I am, Richter.” - -“A ghost!” said the chief. “Gathright’s ghost! Come to haunt me!” - -“Not exactly to haunt you. I assure you I am living flesh—somewhat -twisted, but living. I got out of that midship boiler, while you were -bolting me in so securely. I waited until you went on deck for a hose, -and replaced the after man-hole cover. I was stunned and lay hidden -aboard for two days. Then I looked for Hylda. She was gone. I shipped as -electrician for a port in Japan. I knocked around a bit—at radio work for -the Japanese. It was chance that the _Seriphus_ should have picked me up -from the _Nippon Maru_.” - -“That voice calling for Hylda,” cried Richter. - -“Was a little reminder that I sent through the boiler-room ventilator; I -knew you were down there, Richter.” - -The marine engineer switched on the electric light. - -“What do you want?” he whined to Gathright. - -“Hylda—your daughter!” - -Paul Richter covered his eyes. - -“If she will atone for the harm I have done you, Gathright, she is yours -with her father’s blessing.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Invisible Terror - -_An Uncanny Tale of the Jungle_ - -_By_ HUGH THOMASON - - -Old man Jess Benson, cattleman and mine owner, rode across the high -plateau, which divided the rich grazing lands between Rock Valley and -Slater Canyon, and let his horse pick its way down the steep slope to -Slater Creek. Here, as the sorrel slaked its thirst, the big man in the -saddle filled and lighted his pipe, while his eyes roved slowly through -the sprinkle of cottonwoods which fringed the creek. - -About fifty feet upstream, close to a large bowlder and partly behind -a clump of stunted plum bushes, half a dozen magpies were quarreling -over something that the rider could not clearly distinguish. He could -merely see a dark blotch behind the bushes—the carcass of a cow or steer -probably—and he watched the beautiful black-and-white birds speculatively -as they uttered their shrill, raucous cries, and fluttered about the -thicket. - -Since there was a possibility, however, that the dead animal might be -carrying his own brand, Benson finally turned his horse in the direction -of the birds. Half a minute later, having reached a spot from which he -could command a clear view of the thing that lay behind the bushes, his -tanned cheeks went ashen, and he swung himself to the ground with an -exclamation of horrified surprise. - -Close to the thicket, and five or six feet from the rock, the body of a -man was huddled in the horrible posture of one who has met a violent end. - -He was lying partly on his side, one leg drawn up, the other -outstretched, while both arms were bent under him. His face and neck were -terribly torn and mangled, and his flannel shirt had been ripped half -off his body, which was bruised and covered with wounds. Several paces -away was a trampled felt hat, and the muzzle of a revolver peeped from -beneath the body, its butt evidently clutched in the stiffened fingers of -one hand. For a dozen feet the ground was torn and trampled, as though a -terrible struggle had taken place. - -For several minutes Benson stood still and eyed the ghastly thing in -horrified fascination. Long experience as a range rider told him that -the body and the signs of conflict about it could not be more than -forty-eight hours old—the thing had happened since a heavy rain of two -days before—and it slowly dawned on the cattleman that the dead man was -Nathan Smith, a neighbor of his, who owned a small farm some five or six -miles away. - -For some time he studied the body and the surrounding soil very -carefully, noting especially that the soft earth was covered with large, -doglike tracks; then he went to his horse and untied his slicker from the -back of the saddle. With this garment he managed to cover the body so -that the magpies could no longer reach it. Then he mounted his horse and -rode off toward Elktooth, ten miles away. - -Sheriff Parker and Doctor Morse, the coroner, happened to be together -in the latter’s office when Benson entered and told his story. Both men -listened without any particular comment, and at the end the sheriff got -to his feet. - -“I’ll run you out in the car, Horace,” he informed the coroner. “We can -reach the spot easily enough by following the old road up the creek. From -what Benson says, the thing does not look like a crime exactly—it seems -more like the work of wolves, though I never heard of any attacking a man -in this region; but you can never tell. At any rate, we’d better look -into it as soon as we can.” - -It was about an hour later when the three men got out of the machine -and walked the few feet which separated them from the scene of the -tragedy. Lifting the slicker, Doctor Morse stooped over the gruesome -object beneath it, while Sheriff Parker gazed at the trodden ground with -interest. While the coroner made his examination, the little officer -paced around the thicket, eying the tracks thoughtfully; more than once -he stooped to apply a pocket rule to some especially distinct impression, -and twice he whistled softly to himself. By the time the doctor’s -examination had ended, he was turning a speculative eye toward a dim -trail which led off at right angles through the cottonwoods. - -Returning from washing his hands at the edge of the stream, Doctor Morse -looked at his friend in contemplative silence, as he lighted a cigar and -puffed at it nervously. - -“Well?” the sheriff questioned, at length. “What was it? What killed him, -Horace?” - -“Bless me if I know, Bert. I never saw anything like this before in all -my experience. It was an animal of some kind, I should say; a wolf, -perhaps, although, as you said, the few wolves we have hereabouts have -never been known to attack humans. But the man is frightfully mangled, -his jugular vein is quite torn out of him. Had his gun in his hand, -too. It’s empty. He must have fought the thing hard, whatever it was. I -wonder—could it have been the ‘plague’?” - -Sheriff Parker nodded in an absent way, his eyes still fixed on the faint -trail through the trees and weeds. - -“I think it was,” he said. “This spot is only a little way removed from -where the creature has been in the habit of roaming, and poor Smith, I -suppose, was caught here after dark. These tracks match those we found -near Moore, and they look pretty fresh. How long should you say he has -been dead?” - -“Killed early last night, I should judge,” was the doctor’s answer. “He -died hard, too, poor chap. Look at that ground.” - -Jess Benson, with horror written all over his honest features, had been -staring at the two men as they talked. Big, burly, outdoor giant that he -was, he seemed to be in the grip of a kind of terror—or was it awe?—that -made him incapable of speech. - -“Heavens, what an end!” he burst out at length. “What are we going to do, -sheriff? How’ll we ever get the thing that killed him?” - -Sheriff Parker made no answer. He merely continued to search the ground -around the body for a few minutes longer, as though he wished to make -doubly sure that his suspicions were correct; then he helped the others -wrap the body in a blanket and stow it in the car. Five minutes later, -save for the trampled ground and some dull-brown, ominous stains on the -grass, there was no sign of the tragedy apparent. - -Two hours later, seated at his own desk with a cigar between his teeth, -Sheriff Parker squinted through his glasses at Doctor Morse, who sat -opposite. - -“I tell you, Horace,” the sheriff was saying, “it is such a thing as -never has been known before. If I had not been studying the results of -this creature’s work for the past six weeks, I could not believe that -such a thing could be. Still, it _must_ be so! Poor Jack Moore, he was -the first victim; we were morally certain that the thing got him; then -that strange waving of the alfalfa in Pollard’s meadow, and now this. I -tell you, it’s awful, Horace!” - -“It is; it’s more than that, Bert; it’s unnatural.” Doctor Morse puffed -jerkily at his cigar. “And yet, science tells us that there are sounds -the ear cannot detect, why not colors the eye cannot see? Take the only -time the beast, or the ‘plague,’ as we have begun to call it, appeared -in daylight. I mean that uncanny agitation in Pollard’s hayfield that -afternoon, when some heavy creature thrashed about there. It could be -heard, and the alfalfa moved, but the thing itself could not be _seen_, -though three different people stood watching.” - -“You are quite right, Horace; and I have already spent a great many -sleepless nights milling over that ‘neutral color’ theory. Recently I -have read that at the end of the solar spectrum there are things known as -actinic rays. They represent colors—integral colors in the composition -of light—which we are unable to discern with the naked eye. The human -eye is, after all, an imperfect instrument. Undoubtedly there are colors -which we cannot see, and this beast, this scourge of the neighborhood, is -of some such color.” - -“Aside from its color,” the coroner mused, “the creature is tangible -enough. It leaves a track in the ground larger by far than that of a -full-grown timber wolf, and it certainly can fight. Benson says his -hounds were soundly thrashed by it last week, you know, and there is -Smith. He was a very powerful man, and armed, but, so far as we know, -the thing killed him and got away unscathed. The man’s body looked as -if it had been struck by a train. The chest and sides might have been -beaten in with a sledge, his clothes were torn to shreds, and as for his -throat—well, the less said about that the better.” - -Sheriff Parker said nothing for several minutes. Getting to his feet, he -began to pace slowly back and forth across the room, fingers interlaced -behind his back and head bowed in the way he sometimes affected when in -deep thought. - -He was struggling with a problem the like of which he had never before -tackled; and as he watched him, the coroner, in his turn, strove to -devise some method of wiping out the creature which was terrorizing the -entire valley. - - * * * * * - -Almost six weeks before, Jack Moore, a stock inspector, whose duties -often carried him far out into the thinly settled portions of the -country, had been found dead under circumstances similar in every way to -those surrounding Smith’s end. - -At first, the authorities and general public had attributed the death -to timber wolves, for the sole reason that they could attribute it to -nothing else. The tracks about the body, though exceedingly large, were -shaped like a wolf’s, and the body itself had been torn and mangled as by -some carniverous animal. - -Soon after Moore’s death came the killing of a dozen sheep in their -pasture, and, on the heels of this, Judson Pollard, a prosperous farmer -whose word was beyond dispute, with two of his hired men, had seen -something rush through an alfalfa meadow—something that they could not -make out, though it was broad daylight, and they could see the tall hay -wave and shake, and could even hear the creature as it thrashed about -there. - -Then Jess Benson’s hounds, a pack of fourteen, which had never met its -match in numerous encounters with wolves and coyotes, had been soundly -whipped, and three of its number killed outright in a fight with some -animal which their owner could not see, although he had witnessed the -fight from a distance. - -Now, as a climax to the whole business, had come Nathan Smith’s horrible -death; and no man could say who or what would be the next victim. -No wonder the entire county could talk of little else, and that the -creature, whatever it was, had been named the “plague”! - -As he thought over all these things for the hundredth time, Sheriff -Parker cudgeled his brain in an effort to form some plan for trapping and -killing the beast. He knew that there must be a way, somehow, to make an -end of the terror, even though the most skillful trappers and hunters in -the district had failed to discover it. The animal’s range was known. It -seemed, for the most part, to frequent the country between Slater Creek -and White Horse Mountain, probably because this region contained plenty -of timber and natural shelter; and it was in this region that it must -be cornered. For many years the little sheriff had studied the crimes of -men, and few criminals had ever had just cause to boast of outwitting -him; but this was a different task. - -“Horace,” the sheriff burst out finally, coming to an abrupt halt in -front of his friend, “this butchery has gone far enough. We must put an -end to it. What do you say to trying this very night? The beast seems to -roam mostly at night, and tonight will be moonlight. We’ll try to trap it -at the Black Pool.” - -Doctor Morse stared at the speaker in surprise. - -“The Black Pool?” he repeated. “Are you crazy, Bert? To be sure, we have -discovered, so far as possible at any rate, that the beast seems to -frequent the pool more than any other one spot; but how can we trap it? -That has already been tried more than once.” - -“True, Horace; but we shall try in a different way. This thing, whatever -it is, though it can’t be seen, can be felt and heard; therefore it must -have a solid body, so to speak. It leaves a distinct trail, you know, and -its victims are proof enough that it is a creature of flesh and blood. My -scheme is to _make_ it visible—then, if we are lucky, we can shoot it.” - -The coroner jumped to his feet in his excitement. - -“I see what you mean!” he cried. “Why haven’t we thought of that before? -But how, Bert—how will you do it?” - -“That remains to be seen.” Sheriff Parker smiled oddly as he looked at -his companion. “If you are willing to risk the thing with me, I think I -have a plan that will work. We’ll leave here in the car about four this -afternoon; that will get us to the pool in plenty of time to set our -trap before dark. Bring along your repeating shotgun—a heavy charge of -buckshot is far more certain after dark than a rifle ball, and we can’t -afford to miss.” - -Doctor Morse nodded understandingly. - -“I shall not fail you, Bert,” he said. - - * * * * * - -Early dusk found the two men in the sheriff’s car slowly picking their -way over the stony trail which led to the Black Pool. In the bottom -of the tonneau was a ten-gallon keg, three or four short boards, and -something wrapped in burlap, while the back seat held a pair of repeating -shot guns and a box of cartridges. A hundred yards from the pool, at the -foot of a little hill, Sheriff Parker killed his engine and stepped out -onto the ground. - -“We’d better leave the car here,” he remarked. “It is best not to make -any more disturbance in the immediate vicinity of the pool than we can -help, and we can easily carry what we need from here. But let’s look -around a bit first.” - -Together, carrying their loaded guns in the manner of men who wish to -be prepared against any sudden emergency, they made their way through a -fringe of trees to the edge of the black, still water, which gave the -pool its name. Even by daylight the place was far from cheerful. The -pool, about seventy feet in diameter, was entirely surrounded by trees -which grew to within a few feet of its oily surface. - -There was no sign of life about the place, not even a frog croaked, and -the muddy banks bore mute testimony that none of the many cattle which -roamed that region had been there to drink for many days. In one place -only was the mud broken by fresh tracks; and when his eyes fell on this -spot, the sheriff smiled grimly. - -“You see them, Horace,” he said, pointing. “The thing has been here -recently—its trail is as plain as day; this must be its drinking place. -Now for our little trap.” - -Returning to the car, the two men first carried the keg to the foot of -a large tree which stood only a few yards from where the “plague” had -approached the pool; then they got the boards and the other articles, -which, on being unwrapped, proved to be a brass hand pump, with a long -spray nozzle, and about a dozen feet of hose. - -Doctor Morse regarded this contrivance with considerable perplexity. He -could not see of what use it could be in the task that lay ahead of them; -but when he expressed his puzzlement, his companion laughed softly. - -“It’s really very simple,” he explained, “although it is merely an -experiment of my own, and may not work as I hope it will. The keg is full -of whitewash, and this pump will throw a steady stream for over thirty -feet. If we can get the brute within range, my idea is to spray him with -whitewash until we can see enough of him to shoot at. White always shows -up fairly well in the dark. Catch the idea?” - -Doctor Morse gazed at his friend in surprised admiration for an instant; -then he impulsively caught his hand in a hard grip. - -“You’re a wonder, Bert!” he exclaimed. “I don’t see how you ever thought -of it, but the scheme looks good to me. I am honestly beginning to think -we have a chance. But what are those boards for?” - -“For a platform on the tree yonder,” replied the sheriff, nodding toward -a cotton wood. “For obvious reasons I thought it would be safer to do -our watching from above ground, and with these boards we can construct -a support that will enable us to stay in the tree with some degree of -safety. Of course, the thing may be able to climb, for all we know, but -we must chance that. The tree is within easy range of the water, and -those tall ferns and weeds, if we watch them closely, should give us -warning of the beast’s approach. Now let’s get busy, for it will be dark -before we know it.” - -At the end of half an hour, just as it was actually growing dark within -the shadows of the trees, the two men had built a substantial platform in -a fork of the cottonwood, some ten feet from the ground, and established -themselves upon it. Sheriff Parker’s gun lay beside him, while he grasped -the nozzle of the high-pressure pump in his hands; but the coroner’s -weapon was ready for instant use. - -Swiftly the day turned into night, and for an hour it was as dark as -pitch at the edge of the pool; then the moon, surrounded by myriads of -stars, slowly climbed up over the hill-tops beyond the water. With eyes -riveted upon the ferns, from the movements of which they expected to be -warned of the beast’s approach, the two men waited tensely. - -For a long time nothing happened. From the blank darkness around them -came merely the familiar noises of night in the wilderness—the long, -wailing howl of a distant coyote; the chirping drone of the tireless -insects in the trees; strange cries of night birds, so different from -those of the birds of the day; the “plop” of muskrats diving in the still -water, and all the mysterious chorus of small sounds that one never -notices until after night has fallen. - -Seated on their narrow platform, the watchers were soon very -uncomfortable, for the mosquitoes were numerous and hungry, and the men -dared not smoke for fear the smell of tobacco would give warning to the -thing they sought. Doctor Morse, eyes fixed on the top of a ridge which -could be seen through a break in the trees, and beyond which the stars -and the moon seemed to be grouped, was half dozing, when suddenly he -straightened up with a little start. - -A curious thing had taken place! The stars, rising above the crest of the -ridge, _had successively disappeared from right to left_! - -Each was blotted out for but an instant, and not more than two or three -at the same time, but along half the length of the ridge, all that were -within a few degrees of the crest were eclipsed. Something had passed -along between them and the coroner’s line of vision; but he could not see -it, and the stars were not close enough together to define its shape. -After a second of tense watching, Doctor Morse reached out and gripped -the sheriff by the arm. - -“Did you see it?” he whispered. “It’s coming, I think.” - -“Yes; but be quiet, for your life!” Sheriff Parker leaned forward and -shifted his grip on the hose nozzle. - -For several minutes all was silent, then came a faint patter of stealthy -feet, and something like the sniffing of a hound sounded below them, -while the ferns waved violently, although there was no breeze. Almost -immediately came the sounds of lapping in the water—sounds exactly like -those made by a thirsty dog when drinking. - -Taking careful aim with the nozzle, Sheriff Parker suddenly pumped out -a steady stream of whitewash which began to splash and spatter on the -edge of the pool and surface of the water. And, as the milky liquid -began to fall, the two watchers saw a strange and wonderful thing. In -a spot, which ten seconds before had been merely opaque darkness, _an -outline grew up and took shape out of the ground_; a strange, monstrous, -misshapen thing, squat and hairy, not unlike a huge wolf in general -appearance, but broader and more powerful than any wolf either man had -ever seen. - -For an instant after the whitewash began to fall upon it, the thing -turned a big-jawed, hairy face in the direction of the tree; then, with a -horrible snarl of fury, which both men plainly heard, it charged toward -them. - -“Shoot! _Shoot_, Horace!” Sheriff Parker yelled, dropping the useless -nozzle and grabbing his gun. - -The two heavy guns, charged with double loads of buckshot, roared out -almost together. There was a coughing snarl from the thing on the ground, -which save for a white patch or two, was almost invisible again, and the -sound of convulsive struggling; then the sheriff fired a second time. -Almost immediately there was a heavy splash in the water; then absolute -silence. - -Doctor Morse wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. - -“Did we get it?” he asked in a low tone. - -“Yes, I’m almost sure of it.” Sheriff Parker, though tremendously -excited, began to lower himself to the ground. “No animal of the wolf -type could stand up against three charges of buckshot at less than a -dozen yards,” he declared. “I believe it is dead, Horace.” - -When they warily approached the edge of the pool, however, the two -men could find no sign of the thing they had shot at, beyond a number -of footprints in the soft ground, and, in one spot, very close to the -water, a large splotch of crimson, which made the little sheriff chuckle -exultantly. - -“He was hard hit, and he’s sunk in the pool,” he declared positively, -“sunk in water that no man has ever yet found the bottom of—a fitting -end for such a beast, although I won’t deny that I should have enjoyed -a close look at the body. But it’s too late now, and, at any rate, the -brute is dead. Let’s be getting home, Horace.” - - - - -Seek Solution To Sahara Desert Mystery - - -An attempt is being made this Spring to penetrate the heart of the great -Sahara Desert and solve the mystery that envelops the savage Tribe of -Tauregx, a band of wild Arabs who have never recognized any civilized -authority. Both men and women members of the tribe always keep their -faces veiled in black. The region where they dwell is known as the Land -of Terror. The Chicago Tribune organized the expedition, which is making -the 2,000-mile journey across the hot sands on camels. - - * * * * * - -Light is the fastest-moving thing in the universe. It travels at the -speed of 186,326 miles a second. This tremendous speed would carry a -person around the earth seven times in one second! - - - - -_HELEN ROWE HENZE Spins a Compelling Yarn_ - -THE ESCAPE - - -“Are you sure?” - -The doctor nodded briefly. “Very sure, and the quicker the better!” - -Donaldson gripped the back of the chair beside him till his knuckles -showed white. - -“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” the doctor spoke a trifle -contemptuously. “Appendicitis is quite commonplace. We operate for it as -many as a hundred times a year at the hospital.” - -Donaldson rose slowly to his feet. - -“I’ll let you know sometime soon,” he said, staring about him vaguely. - -“All right. But I’d advise you to have it done quickly.” - -Donaldson shuffled toward the door. - -“I’ll let you know,” he murmured, and went out. - -He descended to the street. He was a man of average height, and rather -thin. He was dressed respectably in clothes of a few years back, but -still good. One felt that he was careful of them, timidly careful. -His blue eyes wandered in odd moments from one object to another, and -his thin lips tried to maintain a firm line, but drooped weakly, if, -perchance, he forgot. Then he twitched them up, reining them hard, trying -to appear casual, indifferent. But his step would drop into its habitual -short uncertainty, his shoulders slump down a bit, his eyes begin their -covert roving, his whole figure expressing a desire to occupy as small a -space as possible, as though his soul and body were squeezed in with a -wish to be inconspicuous. - -As he emerged from the doctor’s office, his pale eyes shifted as he -gazed at the moving throng on the street. Why couldn’t it have been some -one else? Here they were, all so gay, so unconscious of him and the -shadow that hung over him. Unconscious! That was the word which had so -terrified his mind for ten long years. And that was what the anesthetic -meant—unconsciousness! - -Donaldson threaded his way along and turned into a little side street -until he came to his house. He let himself in with his key. The bare -hall resounded dismally to his footsteps. The gaunt, shadowy room gave -him only a chilly welcome. When Mrs. Saunders had kept house for him, it -had been more cheerful. There was not that deathlike stillness when he -came in. That had been several years ago, and since then his fear had -increased through long keeping, like some great, lank brute, gnawing in -the darkness. It was a sly, suspicious fear that shunned companionship. -He had lived for ten years all alone, except for Mrs. Saunders, the -housekeeper, but finally even her presence had become too much, and he -had sent her away. - -He began stupidly preparing dinner. There was some ham, cheese, a half -loaf of bread, and a few potatoes which he peeled, standing by the sink. -There was also a small pie that one of the neighbors had sent him a few -days ago. Kindly people they were, unable to understand Donaldson’s -solitary life, and who took pity on him and occasionally sent him little -bits of pastry or jelly to freshen his meal. - -Once, when he was sick with a cold, the husband had brought him over half -a tumbler of whisky, but Donaldson had shuddered and held up his arms as -if to ward off the other, crying, “None of that! Go away! Let me alone!” - -And the neighbor had withdrawn, attributing this strange behavior to the -sickness. But no, Donaldson’s fear of whisky was almost equal to that of -the beastlike fear that dogged his footsteps or lurked in the shadows -ahead of him. - -Ever since that terrible, unforgettable night when he had drunk it for -the first and last time, he had had a wild terror of it. Even the sight -of it recalled more vividly the white, strained face of his wife as she -fell to the floor, and the red mark of the fender across her temple. -He remembered how he had gone away and brought Jack Dingler home with -him a few hours later, and they had found her. The neighbors had been -so sympathetic toward him in his calamity. Even the same neighbors that -brought him the whisky and went home saying sorrowfully, “Poor Mr. -Donaldson. He’s never been quite himself since the missus was murdered. -It seems to have turned his mind.” - -They were right. His mind was turned. John Donaldson knew what it was -to be afraid. For ten terrible years, fear had skulked behind him. His -composure and his self-reliance vanished. He had become a coward with -the ever-present fear that in some way, by some word or action, he would -reveal his secret. He had kept ever alert. Fear, the driving power that -would not let him slumber. He always kept his door bolted at night, and -the room next to his empty, for fear that he might talk in his sleep. - -That was his greatest dread, that sometime, in an unconscious state, he -would talk. He learned to take the greatest precautions in regard to his -personal safety. He never went on long journeys, nor took an unnecessary -risk. And now—appendicitis! - - * * * * * - -One night, a week later, Donaldson woke up with a start, his body wet -with perspiration. He had been dreaming a terrible dream. It seemed as -though he saw the white face of his wife with the red mark across the -temple, only she was standing up and looking at him with an unfamiliar, -ghastly expression in her eyes, and behind her, looking over her -shoulder, was a satyr’s face, long and yellow. - -Then this figure stepped out and came toward him, holding chains in its -hands. Chains for him, Donaldson! He had had dreams like this before, -varying slightly in detail sometimes, but always with the same terrible -suggestion. And always he had waked up as he did now, wet and cold, with -the same monstrous fear clutching him, pricking him like a thousand -needles, drawing up his flesh, paralyzing him with a queer, uncanny -thrill. - -He wondered if he had talked in his sleep. Of course, there was no one to -hear, still he wondered. It was something he could never know, an awful, -threatening uncertainty that hung over him, that would always hang over -him. - -And those chains! He had a mental vision of himself in the penal stone -quarries, chained to an iron ball. - -He looked at his watch. It was later than he had thought—six o’clock. -He got out of bed and dressed quickly. He knew from experience the only -way to work off the stultifying effect of his dreams. It was physical -action, to walk and walk until he tired himself out. Then his mind would -be loosed from this crazy, nervous terror, and he would relapse into the -steady, dogged fear from which he knew no respite. - -He opened the door and stepped into the street. The morning sun was -beginning to lighten the grey, deserted court. Some one across the way -closed a window. Donaldson straightened up, tightening his lips. Even -this early they might see him. He must appear casual, like a man of -leisure out for a morning stroll. - -But it was an effort, for an unreasoning fear possessed him. He wanted to -run. Something behind him seemed to urge his footsteps faster. It seemed -to him that his feet actually were going faster than the rest of his -body, as though they obeyed the will of that something behind him, while -he himself was really moving only at a moderate gait. - -He had a detached sense of two entities. One was John Donaldson as he -appeared to the world, a slender, inconspicuous man, walking somewhat -timidly along the street, and the other was the coward, the terrified -being, running from the thing that followed him; alert, cunning to -outwit his pursuer. Once, from an irresistible impulse, he dodged into -an alley-way. Then, suddenly ashamed and realizing, he came out again, -walking boldly, his eyes fixed on a passing horse, trying to appear -unconcerned. - -Toward noon he returned, and, remembering he had had no breakfast and -that there was nothing to eat in the house, stopped at the corner grocery -store. The grocer was waiting on another customer when Donaldson came in, -but he looked up and nodded. - -“Be with you in a minute, Mr. Donaldson.” And then, “Why, what’s the -matter? Are you sick?” - -Donaldson had sat down suddenly on a flour-barrel, clutching his side, -his face gone grey with pain. The grocer ran to get a glass of water. - -“Here, better drink this! What’s the matter? Can I help you?” - -But Donaldson only shook his head over his knees, unable to speak. They -got him home a little later, when the pain had eased a little, and sent a -doctor in to see him. Donaldson did not want a doctor, but the grocer was -frightened by his pale face and paid no attention to his protests. - -The verdict was what Donaldson had anticipated, appendicitis and the -necessity of an immediate operation. He heard it, lying on the bed, from -a strange doctor, with a feeling, in spite of the pain in his side, that -it must be another man under sentence. He could not take that anesthetic! -The pain might kill him; then let him die! It would be better than -those awful chains. For he knew that once unconscious, the truth would -come out, that all the poison which had been maddening him for years -would flow from his lips in self-exposure, once he was placed under an -anesthetic. How many times had he already related it in the stillness of -the night? What of his secret could the walls of his room not tell? They -must have heard it over and over. - -The doctor repeated his statement and Donaldson nodded. - -“Yes,” he said mechanically. He must appease this man, lest a refusal -make him too insistent. When the doctor was gone, he was safe again. He -would get well. Everybody had these attacks; they meant nothing. - -“I’ll be back to see you tonight,” said the doctor, as he prepared to -leave. - -“No,” said Donaldson, “don’t come. I’ll be all right.” - -“I’ll be here,” answered the doctor, and went out. - -Suddenly a great fatigue came over the sick man, an overwhelming -drowsiness, a desire for sleep, one of the primal, insistent, compelling -things that would not be denied. - -When he awoke it was quite dark. He did not know the time. Lights shone -in the houses across the street. The ticking of the clock was the only -noise to be heard. The darkness of the room seemed palpable, as though -it floated over and around him, breathing. Then the clock struck eight. -Donaldson remembered. The doctor was coming back. He might return any -minute. Only he must not! There were footsteps on the walk. It was he, -and the door was unlocked! Donaldson rose and started toward it. He had -forgotten his side. He was only conscious of a difficulty in moving, like -in a nightmare, as though weights were dragging on his feet. The doctor -was on the porch. Donaldson struggled. What was holding his feet? - -“Don’t come in,” he gasped. “I’m all right!” - -Then came the pain, like a sudden knife-blade, piercing him. He screamed, -one awful, uncontrollable yell, and pitched forward. - - * * * * * - -There was a queer, unfamiliar smell, and stillness. Not the empty -stillness of his own house, but the stillness of human beings and hushed -movements. - -Nausea possessed him. He opened his eyes for a moment and then closed -them. He was in a white-walled room, darkened. Against the drawn blind he -could feel the sunlight beating. A ray of it came in between the shade -and the window-jamb and struck the opposite wall. It was broad day. -Suddenly, quick and clear as an arrow released from a taut bow-string, -Donaldson’s mind leaped up into consciousness. - -He was in a hospital, and it was over—the operation. It was the -anesthetic which had nauseated him. What had he said? Had he betrayed -himself? Yet here he was, lying quietly in this room. However, they -couldn’t take him away while he was sick. - -They were waiting—waiting till he got well to put the chains on him! He -knew it. That was why they were so quiet, not to make him suspicious. He -would ask the nurse. She could tell him whether he had talked. - -But the nurse was not there. She did not know he was awake. Well, he -would wait and ask her. Maybe he hadn’t talked. People didn’t always. The -sun streamed against the blind. Light, hope! It might be that he would -see it again, free! That he would walk along the streets in the open day. - -The door opened and the nurse entered. She came to his bedside. He would -smile at her easily, indifferently. She would think his question a casual -one. - -“Nurse,” he began. His voice sounded far away, weaker than it should have. - -The nurse smiled. “How is my patient? Feeling better?” - -“Nurse,” he strove valiantly to make his voice strong, casual. He even -smiled weakly. “Did I—er—talk under the ether?” - -“No, not a word. Now rest quietly and I’ll come back after a while.” And -she went out. - -Donaldson sighed. He was still safe. She had told him so. She would not -deceive a sick man. And yet—wouldn’t she? He remembered reading somewhere -that patients were always told they had not talked, lest the knowledge -excite them and hinder their recovery. - -That was why she had said it. They wanted him to get well, so they could -put the chains on him. Hadn’t she hesitated a bit before she answered? He -had thought she looked at him a bit suspiciously. Now he was sure of it. -And that was why. They didn’t want him to know they knew. They wanted to -be sure they’d get him. - -Just then Donaldson’s thoughts were interrupted by a noise on the street. -Some vehicle clattering over the pavement and the sound of a bell. The -door was standing slightly ajar. Two nurses were passing in the hall, and -Donaldson’s straining ear caught their voices: - -“What is all the noise about?” asked one. - -“I don’t know,” replied the other. “It sounds like a police patrol.” - -They were after him! What should he do? He threw back the bedclothes. His -mind was working like lightning. They would never get him. He slipped to -the floor. How he got to the door he never knew. Fear lends strength. He -closed it and stumbled back across the floor, half-falling against the -bed. - -He knew what he was going to do. He pulled up the bed-clothes from the -foot of the bed with feverish haste. The sheet—that was what he wanted! -He ripped open the hem a few inches, turning it back so that he could get -the raw edge of the material. Then he tore off a strip the whole length -of the sheet. He laughed excitedly. They’d never get him! - -By this time, the cut in his side had re-opened, but he did not notice -it. He knew nothing but his one mad purpose. His senses seemed to have -deserted him. It was as though he were in a dream. He felt as though -his mind were standing off, directing his body to do these things, and -as though he were putting a senseless and inanimate other half of him -through certain prescribed motions. - -He tied one end of the strip to one of the iron bed-posts, then he -climbed into bed and lay down. He circled the other end of the strip -around his neck. The head of the bed was looped between the posts with -scrolls of white iron-work. He lifted his knees and pushed with his feet -till his head was through one of these openings, hanging down in the -space between the bed and the corner of the room. His neck was now in a -straight line between the bed-posts, bent backward, and as he breathed, -he emitted from his lips little hoarse noises that seemed to struggle out -protestingly from his strained throat. He knew that he could not strangle -himself to death, for as soon as unconsciousness came, he would relax his -hold. If he could tie the other end! That was sure and safe. - -The blood rushed to his head. He pulled the knot tight, very tight, and -gasped. He felt as though he were drowning. His temples throbbed, and his -ears beat as though the waves were knocking against the inside of his -head, now roaring, now singing with queer, unearthly hum. He relaxed his -hand, and the noose slackened. - -There! That was not so bad, but the blood rushed back from his brain, and -the waves swirled around him now and made him fearfully dizzy. He felt -like a little brig, tossed in the valley of a tempestuous sea, beaten, -dazed, apathetic. - -He recovered somewhat. The police! They must be on their way up! The -waves were calling. Their restless surging hammered upon his brain, -dulling its sensibility. There was peace beneath those waves. Unchanging -peace! - -But he must hurry. A cloud rose before his eyes, grey and inviting. He -seemed to forget. What was he going to do? Where was that peace? Peace, -something he had not known for aeons, aching, endless aeons of time. -Where was it? Ah, yes! Beneath the waves, those heaving, restless, -insistent waves. - -“I’m coming,” he murmured thickly. His tongue seemed swollen. There was -need of haste. He shook himself to clear his mind for the final effort. -Then he pulled the noose tight with all his strength, and tied it quickly -to the right-hand bedpost. - -The waves seemed to open and he was going down. He saw a faint, -opalescent light beneath him. There was something precious down there. It -was peace. - -“I’m coming,” he muttered, struggling, his arms stretched out toward it. -“I’m coming!” - - - - -THE SIREN - -_A Storiette That Is “Different”_ - -_By_ TARLETON COLLIER - - -With an abrupt jerk, Joe Wilson, from lying on a cot in the little -tent, lifted himself on his elbow in an attitude of intent listening. -There was no sound except the hum of a sleepy breeze through the pines, -the sleepier contralto of a mocking bird, and the purring undertone of -rippling water. - -“That’s her!” he whispered. With an effort he sat erect, and again told -himself: “That’s her!” - -All at once there came the crackle of voices without, the sound of -thudding footsteps. Joe flung himself back on the cot and closed his eyes -with furious energy as the flap of the tent was lifted and the engineer -and the doctor peered within. - -“He’s asleep,” said the engineer in a low voice. - -“_Hm!_” said the doctor. He was a wizened little man with spectacles. -Then he let the flap drop, and his voice came to Joe brusquely through -the canvas. “Well, we’ll come back. I want to talk to him. He’s probably -not very sick, but—by God, man, you’ve got to keep your men from the -water around here, or you’ll never finish your railroad!” - -They were walking away as he spoke, and to Joe the voice seemed to fade. - -“I tell you ... polluted ... fever....” - -Then they were gone, the sound of them swallowed up in the ripple of the -little creek over the rocks. With a start, Joe again was erect, his eyes -furtive, glancing about the little canvas chamber. He tiptoed to the -flap, and lifted it a bare inch, peering out upon the receding figures of -the two men as they passed beneath a water-oak. - -With no less caution he crept to the other end of the tent, and stepped -through the flap into the open. For a moment he stood irresolute, his -eyes closed, as if he were dizzy. - -“Keep away from the water, you fool!” he whispered. - -There was no other sound of life in the woods now; the breeze had died -and the mocking bird was silent. Only the prattle of a nearby stream over -its rocky bed.... - -With a stumbling, nervous stride that was almost a run, Joe Wilson went -toward the sound of the water, and at last he plunged through a thick -clump of willows and stood stiff, half-crouching, at the top of a bank of -damp green moss that sloped steeply to a little stream with pools like -black wells, still and silent. Only the silver shallows between pools -rippled with life. - -At the foot of the bank was a shelf of rock, splotched green with moss, -reaching into the stream barely an inch above the water. Upon it Joe’s -glance rested, as if held by a power outside himself. He drew back into -the willows, his sunken eyes closed in his pale face; then, with a sudden -spring, he was over the bank and perched upon the rock. - -Something like a smile lighted his face, as if with the leap he had -settled a troublesome matter. He sat down as easily and comfortably as he -might, his legs doubled, his hands clasped about his knees; and stared -intently into the black pool at his feet. - -And then, between a closing and an opening of his eyes, a woman was there -where he had looked for her. - -There was no sense of suddenness about the apparition; only, when he -closed his eyes against a dizziness, there was the water and nothing -else; when he opened them, an instant later, she was standing in the -midst of the pool, almost where he could touch her. And it was as if she -had been there all the while. - -The water reached a little above her ankles. Her legs were bare to the -knees, clothed above that, and her body as well, in a soft clinging -garment of white that seemed a part of her; white throat and arms were -bare. Her face was alive with a pleasant smile; her eyes, of green and -gray together, were alive and pleasant, too. - -“You are late,” she said. There was something of the stream’s bright -ripple in her voice. - -Joe Wilson could only smile, in answer; then his smile faded and his face -was scornful and somewhat stubborn. - -“Yes,” he said, “and I came near not coming at all. I swore I wouldn’t.” - -“But you came,” she said, still smiling. - -“Only to tell you that this is the last time.” - -Her smile, merrier now, was accompanied by a sound that might have been -the gurgle of a little whirlpool in the rapids, or it might have been a -low note of laughter. - -“You didn’t mean it, then, that you love me,” she chided, coming nearer. -It was not by a step that she moved, or by any perceptible effort. The -space between them all at once was lessened, nothing else. - -Joe had lost his careless air and posture. He was on his knees, a fury in -his words. - -“I didn’t mean it? You can’t say that. I have become less than a man, I -love you so. You bring me here every day to do as you will, and I would -die if I didn’t come, I love you so. For you I have broken my word to my -friends back there in camp. And I don’t know who you are or _what_ you -are.” - -Again that gentle sound that might have been a sudden swirl of the water, -or her laughter. Then she was nearer, and her pleasant eyes looked into -his, mockery in them. - -“You don’t know who I am?” she asked softly. “And yet I am yours.” - -The stubborn lines in Joe’s face vanished. A quick throb of blood choked -into a gulp the word he would have spoken, and he stretched out his arms. -She was suddenly beyond his reach. - -“Yours,” she said again, and that she laughed there was no doubt this -time. - -Joe’s eyes were hungry. Joe leaned forward upon his stiffened arms, and -stared at her like a wistful dog. - -“I don’t know who you are,” he whispered. “I don’t know who you are.” - -“I am whoever you want me to be,” she said. - -“I’ll call you Sadie,” he said. - -“Sadie?” Her lids drooped, veiling her eyes, but their narrow glimmer was -keenly alive. - -“Yes, there is a girl—” - -Between two words she was close before him at the edge of the rock. - -“I am yours,” she said in a fierce, low voice. “What do you care for any -girl? I am all woman, and you have me. What do you care for the world? -You have me.” - -He felt her breath on his face. There was warmth and fragrance in it. -Her white beauty was greater than that of the dogwood blossoms showering -there through the gloom under a sudden breeze; and a dizziness struck -him, so that the trees swam before his eyes. - -“I have you,” he repeated thickly, rising to his feet. - -“And the girl ... Sadie?” she asked. - -“You are Sadie. Only you. I have forgotten....” He put out his arms, but -she was beyond his reach again, her eyes mysterious. - -With outstretched arms, he begged her to return. - -“I love you,” he said. - -For a full breath she looked at him gravely. Then, “We shall see,” she -said, plunging her hands into the stream. As she arose, her hands were -cupped and brimming with water. She moved toward him, smiling. - -Terror gathered in Joe’s white face. - -“Drink,” she tempted him. - -He whispered “No,” and the refusal seemed to strengthen him, for when she -said again, “Drink,” he shouted it: “_No!_” - -She dropped her hands, and the water went splashing back into the stream; -and, smiling still, she came nearer until she was beside him upon the -rock, her wet feet glistening silver upon its greenish-brown surface. Her -eyes held fast his wide, frightened stare. - -“Why?” she asked him, when she was so close that he was aware of the -warmth and fragrance of her person. - -He answered her steadily: - -“I will not, that’s why. I must not. I have told you I must not, every -day that I have come here, and yet I have always drunk this water. It has -made me less than a man. It has made me break my word and my own rules.” - -Once more her eyes were grave. “You must not?” she asked. Her voice might -have been that of the purring shallows. There was no escaping her gaze, -and before it his eyes wavered and shifted. His shoulders drooped. - -“You will not?” the purring voice went on. “Not for me, and you say you -love me? It is so little that I ask.” - -There was pain in his voice as he cried, “Don’t ... Sadie! I have -promised ... the rule....” - -It was she whose figure drooped now, and her face that was mournful. “But -you have broken the rules before this for me,” she murmured. - -“I came today to say that I would no more.” - -“But it is so little I ask. And I—am—yours.” - -He pleaded: “_Don’t!_” - -With sudden abandon, she flung herself against him, and for the first -time his arms closed about her. She yielded to his fierce embrace, her -head against his breast. - -“You do not love me,” she whispered. - -“Sadie...!” His arms tightened with his cry, and a red mist blinded him -as he felt her warm, vital body closer against him. - -She lifted her face and looked at him. - -“You will?” she asked, smiling. - -“No,” he said, almost with a moan. - -She kissed him. “To drink, only to drink,” she said softly. “It is so -little. I have given you myself ... isn’t that something?” - -With one arm she clung to him as tightly as he held her; the other arm -was free, and with her hand she stroked his face. Her kisses were hot -upon his lips. His eyes were closed, and he swayed with a dizziness that -was mightier than any other he had known. - -“Only to drink,” she said. “Do you not care for me, and I have given you -myself? What are those men in the camp to you, they and their rules? You -will not drink ... yet I give you ... this....” - -Her lips met his in an eternity of giving and taking. - -“No!” he said again, but his voice quivered and broke, with the plain -message of surrender. - -With a little cry, she knelt at the edge of the pool, her arms still -about him so that he was forced to kneel with her. She plunged her hands -into the water, and lifted them to him with their silver freight. - -With an eager, moaning sound, he drank the cool water; and as he did so -the red mist before his eyes thickened, and his ears roared with the -thunder of blood within. To drink became then his passion, and he cupped -his own hands, filled them with water, and drank. - -For a moment the mist cleared and the roaring ceased, and he saw that he -was alone on the rock. - -“Sadie!” he called. - -The answering sound might have been only the prattle of the stream, or it -might have been low laughter. - -The thought came to him that perhaps she had fled to the bank, and with -prodigious labor he clambered up the tiny slope. She was not there. He -parted the soft-flowing curtain of the willows, and though the fronds -were so light a bird might have flown through them, he gasped with the -effort it cost him. - -Staggering into the sunlight beyond the fringe of trees, he found that -she was not there, either. He tried to run, but only stumbled, lifting -himself painfully to stagger onward. Then the mist of his delirium closed -upon him, and the blood at his ear drums pounded and a tumult came out of -earth and sky to overwhelm him. - - * * * * * - -The doctor and engineer, going fishing, stumbled upon his crumpled form -an hour later. The former, a wizened, spectacled little man, bent over -him and studied him with eyes that seemed to see everything. He studied -the young fellow’s pulse, loosened his shirt, stared into the pupils of -his eyes. At last he turned to the other, frowning, and said: - -“Fever, and maybe that damn’ typhoid. He’s the sickest man I ever saw.” - -Then his voice rose with a flare of anger. - -“Say, can’t you keep these fools away from this water?” he asked. -“There’s death in it.” - - - - -Men, Lost at Sea, Live Through Week of Horror - - -A harrowing adventure that probably will never leave their minds befell -two fishermen of Freeport, L. I., who passed a week in the open sea in -a small motor boat, without water or provisions. Caught in a blizzard -off the Long Island coast, something went wrong with their compass and -they headed out to sea, where they drifted for nearly a week before the -schooner, Catherine M., saw their signals of distress and picked them -up. The two men—Capt. Bergen Smith and Harry Matthews—had only a small -supply of water and a few raw potatoes. On this they lived for the first -two days. Then Matthews lost control of himself, drank sea water and -became delirious. Raving in delirium, he urged Smith to split a bottle of -iodine in a suicide pact. Their boat began to leak, and they ripped the -lining from their overcoats to calk the seams. Finally, after a number of -ships had passed without seeing them, they were rescued, more dead than -alive, by the schooner. - - - - -_A Night of Horror in the Mortuary_ - -THE MADMAN - -_By_ HERBERT HIPWELL - - -Peter Stubbs has snow-white hair, and he is only twenty-eight. He mutters -to himself as he pursues his lowly task of sweeping the streets in our -little university town. Children gibe at him and goad him to rage and -tears. - -Peter once had raven black hair and was as fine and strong a young fellow -as ever led the town forces in their frequent battles with our students. -That was before the one night he spent as caretaker of our medical -school. Only two of us know the real story of that night and why Peter -was taken from the building next morning, a gibbering and white-haired -idiot. - -We have remained silent for various and selfish reasons, but I can no -longer keep to myself the story of that awful night. - -Our medical college is a lonely, ramshackle old building. The town -has grown away from it. It is surrounded by musty old junk yards and -infrequently used railway sidings, and it is miles from the fine old -group of buildings which form the rest of the university. - -There has always been difficulty in getting a suitable caretaker for it. -None of the many engaged could be relied on to come early enough to get -the fires going properly and to keep the walks clear of snow. Our new -dean, Dr. Towney, thought he had solved the problem by deciding to have a -caretaker live permanently on the premises. - -Peter Stubbs, on learning of this, applied for the post and had no -difficulty in obtaining it. The dean showed him around the building and -explained the duties required of him. A more imaginative man might have -been a little chilled by the gaunt skeletons arranged in the cases of -some of our classrooms. Certainly he would not have been pleased with -the sleeping quarters picked out for him. The only room available was a -closetlike place directly connected with our mortuary. - -Frequently, bodies would be there overnight, awaiting the purposes of the -college. Most persons would not welcome these as night-time neighbors, -but Peter scoffed and said he would as soon sleep there as in a brightly -lighted hotel. - -Chic Channing and I heard his foolish boast, and Chic and I had old -scores to pay with Peter. - -His sturdy fist had left a blue circle around my eye for a week, and -Chic was minus a tooth as a result of a hot encounter between Peter’s -followers and us freshmen. - -Chic jumped at this brilliant opening for reprisal. - -“Are you game for a little ghost-walking?” he whispered to me, as Peter -and the Dean passed to another part of the building. - -I asked for details. - -“It’s the chance of a lifetime if we have the nerve,” he declared. “Let’s -sneak back into the building tonight, crawl on to a couple of slabs in -the mortuary and cover ourselves with sheets. We’ll look enough like -corpses to fool Peter if he looks in. Then, when Peter goes to bed and it -gets good and lonely, we can come to life with a few gentle moans, get -Peter aroused, and then do a little ghost dance for his benefit. After -we have him frightened stiff we can take off the sheets and give him the -laugh. The story will get around quick enough, and poor old Peter won’t -be troubling us freshies any more.” - -I could scent trouble in the wild scheme, and I hastily began to offer -objections. - -“Peter knows there aren’t any bodies in there now,” I said. - -“That’s all right,” Chic replied. “I heard the dean tell him that a -couple might arrive late today. In fact, I know there will be one there -for certain. One of the inmates at the government hospital for the insane -died today, a poor beggar who was so wild they had to keep him locked up -tight all the time. He had no friends, so the body is to come here and -the undertaker has already gone for it.” - -I was still unconvinced, but I had no plausible excuses. I felt my eye, -which was still sore from Peter’s bruising, and I assented to the crazy -plan. - - * * * * * - -Chic was right about the body. The undertaker’s car drew up to the -college just as we were leaving. We were the last students to go, and the -dean was the only other person there. - -He asked our aid in bringing the body to the mortuary, and we laid it on -a cold marble slab. Peter arrived from supper, to begin his first night’s -stay, just as the dean and we were leaving. - -True to my promise, I met Chic near the college about ten o’clock and we -prepared to carry out our plan. My courage was oozing already. One of -those wan yellow moons was the only light around the dreary building, and -every rustle of a leaf or a disturbed pebble began to send shivers up my -spine. But I couldn’t turn back. - -Silently, we pried open one of the loosely locked basement windows. Then -we crept up dark stairs and through the classrooms, where I imagined I -could see the skeletons standing out like white patches in the murky -darkness. - -We reached the mortuary room and groped our way in. I almost cried out as -my hand suddenly came in contact with the dead maniac, but I recovered -myself. Chic groped in the corners until he found two immense white -sheets. - -We climbed upon adjacent slabs, and stretched out on our backs and pulled -the coverings over us. I managed to keep a small corner raised so that I -had a partial view of the room as my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. - -The stillness grew intense. We heard the long, dreary hoot of a freight -engine. I shivered involuntarily and thought of the real corpse a few -feet away. - -Footsteps echoed in the building. Peter was making a round of inspection -before retiring. He switched on the lights in the mortuary and gave a -little whistle of surprise at the three still, white figures lying there. - -Then he began to whistle again, a little tremulously. Evidently he was -not feeling as bold as when he accepted his post. He went to his little -room, but was soon back again. - -In his hand he held a small coil of rope, apparently a clothesline. He -unwound it, and then, very gingerly, he approached the slab on which I -lay. - -I felt a light blow as one end of the rope fell across me. Peter was -going to take no chances on midnight ghosts. _He was going to tie us all -firmly to the slabs!_ - -Whistling to keep up his courage, he proceeded with his task. In a few -minutes I was firmly bound. I could not have moved if I dared. - -Then he cut away the remaining piece of rope and proceeded to truss up -Chic in the same way. He had to struggle to make the two ends of the cord -meet. - -There was none left for the real corpse, and, though he hunted diligently -in all parts of the room, he could find no more. - -He surveyed the two of us, bound firmly to the slabs, and evidently felt -reassured. He decided to take a chance on the third body remaining still -and retired to his room, closing the door and leaving us alone in the -creepy, moonlit mortuary. - -How I cursed Chic as I lay there unable to move, listening to the -gradually deepening breathing of Peter as he dropped into a sound sleep. -What if he should leave us bound until the professors arrived in the -morning? What a fine row there would be! - -These, and other unpleasant thoughts running through my mind, were -suddenly checked by a slight sound which turned me cold from head to -foot. Horrified, I gazed through the small chink in my covering. I could -not believe my eyes. - -_The corpse of the maniac had moved!_ - - * * * * * - -There came a faint rustle of his covering shroud, and the body moved -again ever so slightly. I wanted to shriek in terror, but I was paralyzed. - -The shroud moved again, this time more noticeably. My scalp tightened, -and I could feel the gooseflesh rising all over my body. - -Then, with one sudden motion, the maniac sat bolt upright and threw the -shroud from him. - -He was clothed only in a long, hospital nightgown. His thin hair stood up -in tangled wisps, and his eyes blazed like those of a cat in a dark room. - -Slowly he surveyed his surroundings, and then burst into the most hideous -laughter I have ever heard. His big, yellow teeth seemed like the fangs -of a wild animal. I could imagine them rending my flesh. - -The echo of his hideous mirth had hardly died away when Peter burst from -his room, clad in his night clothes. His knees almost gave way as he took -in the dreadful scene. Horror was apparent in every line of his body, and -I had an inexplicable desire to laugh. But by a supreme effort I fought -off this hysteria. - -Quite calmly the madman swung his legs down from the slab and sat there -on its edge, transfixing poor Peter with his terrible gaze. He chuckled. - -Peter commenced to back toward his room. In an instant the madman was at -him. - -Then commenced a wild chase around the room, of which I could only catch -fleeting glimpses as they passed on one side of my slab. Once the maniac -rested bony hands on my body as he prepared for a new rush at Peter, whom -I could hear breathing near by. - -Bound hand and foot, Chic and I were unable to make a move, even if -terror had not prevented us. - -Untiringly, cunningly, the madman pursued his prey. Peter dodged and -squirmed in terror. Perspiration poured from his face. But his efforts -were futile. He was penned in a corner, at last, where a door led -directly to a stairway in the corridor. - -Step by step, the madman approached him, his long fingers outstretched -like talons, and a low, gleeful laugh came from his lips. Peter backed -desperately away from him, as though he hoped to press through the great -oaken door. The maniac’s fingers were almost at his throat, when the door -swung back suddenly and Peter tumbled from the room, his body bumping and -thudding on the stairs outside. - -Startled by the sudden disappearance of his victim, the madman halted -a moment. The door automatically swung shut again, firmly this time. -Apparently, it had not been tightly closed before. - -The insane creature flung himself at it. It repelled him. He shrieked and -tore at it, but to no avail, and he finally turned away. - -His eyes, now wilder than ever, swept the room. They rested on our bound -figures. Swiftly, he passed over to where I lay. The rope puzzled him, -and he was still for a moment. - -Suddenly he grasped it and snapped it as though it had been thread. I was -free, but I did not move. I waited for him to seize me, but his footsteps -shuffled away. He was beside Chic now. I heard the rope which bound him -snap. - -In desperation, I rolled from the slab and rose trembling to my feet. The -noise attracted the crazed being. He turned and faced me. - -His features were distorted into a horrible grin. His sharp, cruel teeth -gnashed as if in expectation of a bloody feast. He leaped at me, clearing -the slab, on which I had lain, at one bound. - -I was too weak to dodge, but I tried grimly to clinch with him, as I had -seen groggy boxers do when they were sparring for time. I was in his -arms. His eyes blazed not a foot from mine. Foam flecked his mouth. His -weight pressed against me. It grew heavier and heavier. - -Then my overwrought nerves gave way, and I became unconscious. - - * * * * * - -When I awoke I was outside in the cool night air. Chic was bathing my -brow with muddy water from a roadside pool. The madman had collapsed at -the same moment as I had. In a daze, Chic had laid him again on the slab -and had dragged me from the building. - -Poor Peter we forgot, until he was found the next morning, haggard, -white-haired and unable to utter an intelligible word. - -Too vivid an imagination, wrought into a frenzy by the uncanny -surroundings, was the way the doctors diagnosed his strange case. Chic -and I were too dazed to shatter the theory. - -As for the madman, he had really died, after the short spell of suspended -animation and temporary revival. I know this because his gaunt skeleton -was one of the principal decorations at our graduation dance. - -But, even with this assurance, I sometimes wake at night in a cold sweat, -and feel for the butt of the revolver under my pillow. - - - - -Arrest Woman Accused of Witchcraft - - -Popular rumors of a sorceress in the Logan Square district of Chicago -led to the arrest of Mrs. Emily Elhert for practising medicine without a -license. The woman styled herself a spiritualist and claimed the ability -to heal any disease. She would make mysterious passes over her patients, -and applied an evil-smelling salve, the composition of which is not -known. Each visit cost the patient two dollars, and Mrs. Elhert is said -to have made very good money until the police interfered with her career. - - - - -_An Electrocution, Vividly Described By An Eye Witness_ - -THE CHAIR - -_By_ DR. HARRY E. MERENESS - -_Former Physician at Sing Sing Prison_ - - Dr. Harry E. Mereness, who wrote this realistic description - of an electrocution, was attending physician at Sing Sing - Prison for six years, and during that period he attended, in - his official capacity, sixty-seven executions in the Electric - Chair—a record that has never been equaled. Among the many - noted executions he witnessed were those of Lieut. Becker of - the New York Police Department and the four gunmen in the - Rosenthal case. Prior to their death, he attended the prisoners - in the condemned cells. - - “The average prisoner, approaching the moment of execution,” - says Dr. Mereness, “is in a mental haze or wild delirium - produced by the fear of death. In two instances, however, this - was lacking. Both men, after being strapped in the chair, said: - ‘Good-by, Doc!’” - - -The minute hand on my watch indicates 5:44 a. m. I am standing in a -direct line with the chair. - -My gaze is directed to the left side of the room and down a short, -narrow, heavily-walled corridor that forms the communication between the -condemned cells and the execution chamber. There are a number of guards -standing quietly about, and on my right, back of a rope stretched across -the room, sit the witnesses. - -There is a tension in the very air of the chamber. Absolute quiet -prevails. A few seconds pass, eternally long they are. - -Then comes a sound—a muffled “Good-by, all.” The sound reaches the ears -of the witnesses, and involuntarily they straighten up on their stools; -there is some scuffling of feet, and one witness, possibly a trifle more -nervous than the rest, clears his throat. Everyone is now keenly alert. - -I hear the chant of the priest—the response of the condemned man—the low, -quavering and broken response, “Have mercy on me.” - -The little procession now enters the corridor. I see the condemned -man—stocking-footed, and with his right trouser leg flapping, grimly -ludicrous, for it has been slit up to the knee in order to facilitate the -application of the leg electrode. He is between the deputy warden and his -assistant, each supporting an arm as they slowly enter the death chamber. - -At the sight of the fateful and fatal chair, the condemned man -involuntarily shrinks back, but the guards are prepared for this, and -their hold becomes a little firmer. There is no halt in their step, and -but five paces away, inanimate, portentous and ominous—the chair! - -[Illustration: _Copyright 1910 by Harry Hirschfeld._] - -After the first sight—after that sharp, quivering intake of breath—the -gaze of the condemned man shifts about the room. His expression haunts -one. You feel that it is both all-seeing and unseeing. The fear of -death—a definite emotion—is here portrayed in a fashion that but few have -beheld. There is utter finality in that look. - -His eyes rest upon you. You feel that he sees you, but that you are -simply one of the images in the general make-up of the last picture that -is conveyed to his brain. There is no recognition in the glance—just -a vague, hopeless and apparently vacant stare, but one which you feel -discerns the sharp outlines of the persons and objects in the room, -without recognizing features or details. - -To me, that quick survey of his surroundings, that final glance of the -unfortunate being on the very threshold of his meeting with his God, -is the most harrowing of all the gruesome details connected with the -administration of man-made Law’s decree. - -My watch indicates 5:45 a. m. The condemned man is seated in the Chair. -The guards work quickly, two at either side and one at the head of the -Chair. The arm straps are buckled fast, the leg straps next, then the -face strap, which has an opening for the chin, and the upper part of -which mercifully blindfolds the eyes. - -The cap, a soft, pliable thing made of a fine copper mesh and lined with -sponge, which has been moistened in salt water, is placed upon the head -and moulded to fit its contour. To a binding-post on the cap is adjusted -the heavy wire that conveys the terrific current from the dynamo in a -distant part of the prison. To the bare right leg, another electrode is -applied and connected up. - -A full minute has elapsed since I heard the “Good-by, all.” The guards -have completed their task. My notes now read: “Entered 5:44:10. Chair and -strapped 5:45:00.” - -“Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world have mercy on me,” -chants the priest. And: “Have mercy on me,” comes the broken, almost -inaudible and inarticulate response. - -I retain my position, note-book and watch in my left hand. I am standing -on the right side of, and in the same direct line with, the Chair. The -Chair and its occupant, the electrician and myself, form a right angle. I -occupy the angle, for at the ends of the lines, which make up that angle, -are the two things that demand my undivided attention—the electrician and -the condemned. From my point of vantage I can see them both. My eyes are -on the condemned man. - -I feel the eyes of the electrician upon me. I have a new, bright yellow -pencil—freshly sharpened. It is quite necessary for my notes. I hold it -vertically on my note-book, and watch the occupant of the Chair. The -overwhelming mental tension, coupled with the knowledge of the proximity -of death, has a fearsome reaction upon the Chair’s victim. With each -rapid inspiration, there is a slight elevation of the shoulders, and as -expiration takes place the shoulders sag. This is the very instant I have -awaited—the lungs are practically free from air. I dip my pencil quickly -from the vertical toward the horizontal. - -There is a sudden _click_, the body in the Chair straightens, and from -the mouth comes a low, sibilant _hiss_; the straps creak, and you feel -that if the straps should break the body would be catapulted over the -rope and amidst the witnesses. - -For ten seconds the high current of eighteen hundred and fifty volts and -eight to nine amperes is on; then, for forty seconds, the voltage is -dropped to two hundred. - -During this period the body sags perceptibly; at the end of forty seconds -the current is again increased, and the body again straightens and -strains against the straps. After the final ten seconds of the fatal -minute, the current is switched off. - -The body in the Chair actually shrinks before your very eyes! I step -up to the Chair; a guard tears open the shirt and bares the chest. As -I place my stethoscope over the heart I am conscious that the body is -intensely hot. I know from experience that the heat generated by the -rapidity of the passage of the current has raised the temperature from -sub-normal to between 120 and 130 degrees. - -I hear a racing, tumultuous _rat-a-tat-tat_—possibly I can count the -heart beats. I lift the face strap, and with thumb and forefinger -separate the lids. The eyes are glazed, but the pupils are small. I feel -the great arteries in the neck. I continue to get a pulsation that tells -me that the vital forces have not yet ceased. - -My notes now read: “First contact—one minute—5:45:10—5:46:10.” - -I step off the rubber mat and nod to the electrician; the current is -again thrown on, this time for five seconds. When I now listen over the -heart, I am reminded of a clock that is running down; the heart beats -are fainter—they become slower—they commence to skip—I fail to feel the -pulsation in the neck—there is a heavier glaze over the eyes—the pupils, -small and contracted a moment before, are now widely dilated. The head -rests on the shoulders, and the face is directed toward the chandelier -with its many lights, but there is no reaction of the pupil as the bright -light strikes the eye—it remains wide and big. The muscles of the face -are set, and saliva drools from the angles of the mouth. - -I again place my stethoscope upon the chest, but no sound reaches my ear. -I listen for five—for ten—for twenty seconds. There is nothing; all the -vital reactions have disappeared. - -Physicians among the witnesses are invited to listen; they take their -time, for there is no reason for hurry now. After the last one finishes I -make a final examination. It is as before—nothing. - -My notes now state: “Second contact—5 seconds—5:47:00. Pronounced dead at -5:52:00.” - -I turn toward the Warden and say, “I pronounce this man dead.” - -The law has been obeyed. - -The general attitude of tenseness is relieved. The guards quickly -unbuckle the straps and carry the body to the autopsy room, and after -placing it upon the stone-topped table begin to remove the clothes. The -hum of conversation becomes general. The witnesses are departing. - -I commence the autopsy, feeling that my report will be, “Autopsy upon the -body of ⸺ No. ⸺, convicted of murder, first degree and today executed at -this prison, showed all organs and tissues to be normal.” - -As I begin my long sweeping incision, the thought always strikes me: -“This must also be done because it is the Law,” and the invariable -question comes, “Is it really the Law, or is it to insure the carrying -out of the Law?” - -In other words, if the Chair fails, the post mortem succeeds. - - * * * * * - -There is little left to tell. The evening papers will state that -“So-and-so, convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to death, was -electrocuted at Sing Sing Prison early this morning.” They will rehearse -the grewsome history of the crime and will tell how the murderer, with -firm step, entered the execution chamber at 5:44:10 a. m., and was -strapped in the chair at 5:45:00 a. m. - -These details are quite correct. I can vouch for them, for I let the -reporters take my notes, which are official, and they copy the data and -embody it in their stories. - -They invariably dress up the “first contact,” however, so their stories -read about like this, “At 5:45:10 Warden Blank threw the switch, pressed -the button, or dropped his handkerchief, as a signal” (it is always one -of these three). - -Well, I’m rather glad that they credit it to the Warden, and I really -feel better that I and my new, bright yellow pencil, freshly sharpened, -have been overlooked. - - - - -Rare Music Disappears Mysteriously - - -Caslav Albrecht, a Chicago violinist, recently made a trip to Europe and -brought back about thirty-five rare pieces of violin manuscript, which -cannot be duplicated. Many of the compositions were original copies and -the whole is valued at $5,000. The music disappeared at a party given by -Frank Steiner, another musician, which Albrecht attended. He says he had -the music with him when he came, and left it in the cloak-room during the -festivities, and that it was gone when he was ready to leave for home. -Although Albrecht was sure the manuscripts were merely mislaid, no trace -of them could be found. - - - - -The Cauldron - -_True Adventures of Terror_ - -CONDUCTED BY PRESTON LANGLEY HICKEY - - While most of the material in =WEIRD TALES= is, of course, - fiction, we are of the belief that there are innumerable - persons who have lived through experiences as weird, terrible - and horrifying as anything ever chronicled by a fictionist. - This belief, and the fact that =WEIRD TALES= deals exclusively - with the bizarre and unusual, has resulted in the establishment - of =THE CAULDRON=. - - Readers who have had a hand in strange adventures, or who have - been victims of experiences of a startling and terrifying - nature, are cordially invited to send accounts of them to - =THE CAULDRON=. A concrete idea of what is desired may be - ascertained by reading this month’s contributions. Manuscripts - may be as horrible and hair-raising as it is in the power of - the author to make them, but they must be clean from a moral - standpoint. Those accepted will be paid for at our usual rate. - Tell your story clearly and briefly. Double-spaced, typewritten - manuscripts are preferred, but those in long hand will be - considered if legibly written. No manuscript will be returned - unless accompanied by a stamped and self addressed envelope. - - -THE GHOST OF DEATH - -Editor of The Cauldron: There are those who are as firmly convinced in -the existence of ghosts as they are that day follows night. I have heard -intelligent men and women discuss ghosts seriously and tell of this -and that spiritualistic seance that they attended where, before their -very eyes, misty forms of long departed dead have been materialized -before their very eyes. To me all this appears more or less ridiculous. -During the past fifteen years I have made a very thorough study of the -“phenomena” of spiritualism, and my findings have resulted in my becoming -skeptical on this subject. It is because of my emphatic disbelief in the -supernatural, as far as its direct relation to human man is concerned, -that I submit the following as one of the most inexplicable and -terrifying things that has ever occurred to me: - -During the summer of 1906, my wife and I were residing in the township -of North Lamoine, Maine, a fishing village situated on Frenchman’s Bay, -an arm of the Atlantic which extends some miles inland. Our first born, -then twenty months old, had not been well for some time, and we thought -perhaps a summer in the open country close to the sea would be beneficial. - -For a time the little one appeared to rally, but failed to put on the -weight or to assume the healthy look that a normal baby of her age -should. Then came a day when my wife struck terror to my heart by telling -me that she had a premonition that something would happen—that the child -would not live. - -I scoffed at the notion and cheered her as best I could, but there was a -great weight on my heart. I had begun to feel the same way, and the fact -that my wife mentioned it only intensified my grief. - -Just two days after this conversation there occurred the manifestation -of which I write. My work kept me up later than usual, and it was not -until after midnight that I finally retired. Worn out as I was from the -activities of the day, and though late the hour, it was some time before -I could compose myself to sleep. - -The baby, who slept with my wife at the other end of the room, moaned. A -heavy electrical storm raged outside—the wind lashing the rain against -the window panes in unabating fury—and my thoughts were in a turmoil. - -Finally I began to doze and, I believe, was about to fall asleep when, -with a start, I found myself staring wide eyed at the ceiling. No one had -spoken, and, save for the baby’s moans and the storm, there had been no -sound, but something had impelled me to open my eyes. A moment later a -cold perspiration broke out over my body. - -At first, nothing was visible and then, even in the almost pitch darkness -of the room, a filmy though strangely luminous grayish white object began -to take form close to the ceiling just above my wife’s bed. It became -clearer and clearer until finally it moved. - -As rigid as a marble statue I lay. Though not exactly afraid, to have -saved my life I don’t believe I could have moved at that moment. -Gradually this indescribable object began to settle over the other bed. -Just as it seemed to merge itself with the faint whiteness of the covers, -the baby cried out, to be followed an instant later by a piercing scream -from my wife. - -“Back! back!” she gasped. “No! no! you shall not! For God’s sake _back_!” - -I remained motionless but an instant, long enough, however, to see the -specter gather itself into a compact form, flash upward and disappear. -Then, with a mighty effort, I pulled myself together and bounded out of -bed. - -“Oh,” my wife cried, sitting up, “did you see it?” - -“See what, dear?” I asked. - -“Just now something white seemed to come down, with arms outstretched, as -if to take little Helen away. I am sure I was not asleep.” - -“You must have been,” I answered. “I was wide awake all along and did not -see anything. The room is quite empty.” - -“Ugh,” she shuddered, “what a terrible dream!” - -There was no sleep for me the rest of that night. For hours I sat in the -living-room, trying to fathom the mystery that I had beheld. I knew it -could not have been imagination, for my wife had seen it also. There was -no accounting for it. - -And I am just as much in the dark now as I was then. God only knows what -it was that my wife and I saw that night! Perhaps it was a matriculated -spirit from the Valley of Death, after all. - -In any event, Baby Helen died the next day. - - OWEN KING. - -Editor of The Cauldron: During the street car strike in Denver in 1919, I -was a reporter on the _Times_. On the night when the strikers and “Black -Jack” Jerome’s “breakers” met in deadly conflict, I was assigned to the -East Denver barns, in which Jerome’s men were fortified. - -Toward midnight, the strikers stormed _en masse_ and, during the melée, -I dropped with a bullet in my chest. Regaining consciousness, I found -myself in the City Hospital. Kneeling beside my bed was my wife—Estelle. -I tried to move. - -“Lie still, dear,” she said, rising. “You must keep very quiet. They are -going to probe for the bullet.” - -Upon reaching the operating room, the ether instantly choked me -into unconsciousness. Then occurred the strangest thing I have ever -experienced. I seemed suddenly transported into a great hall, with tall, -shining pillars. All around me were people clothed in white. From afar -came the sound of soft music. - -But what attracted me was a raised section at one end on which sat a -benevolent-looking old gentleman. In his eyes there seemed to be all the -sorrow and suffering of a wicked world’s countless centuries. He beckoned -to me. When I had come before him he spoke, and in his voice there was -the golden ring of perfectly tuned chimes. - -“My son,” he said, “you have been brought to judgment. At present you are -no longer a part of the earth’s sphere. Back there science is fighting -for your life. Whether science succeeds is determined by this court of -justice. What have you to say for yourself?” - -I trembled and became afraid. Where was I? Was I dead and in some -spiritual sphere far removed from the earth? - -Then I spoke. I recall, distinctly, that I rambled on at great length, -attempting to make a good impression. As I spoke he listened intently, -occasionally nodding his head slowly and sadly. - -When I finished, he resumed: - -“Words and actions mean nothing here,” he said. “In passing judgment we -consider only motives. They are everything. Remember that. It is the -motives behind all actions that are important.” - -So saying, he turned to an aged man, who was writing in a book, and -asked: “Any prayers?” - -“Yes, a young woman kneels at his bed.” - -“You shall return to earthly existence for a time then,” the judge said, -raising his hands. “Heed well my words.” - -Then I saw a great light swell from some invisible source, and, as I -looked, there seemed to be ragged scars in his palms that ran red. - -When finally I opened my eyes I was again in my little bed, with Estelle -and the doctor standing by. Eventually I recovered from my serious wound. - -The weird vision that I had while on the operating table, though, has -always been a great mystery to me. Dreams are nothing unusual for me, but -this was so entirely different from anything that I have ever experienced -before! I have spoken of it many times and to many people. They have not -laughed, but have listened in astonishment. - -What was it, I wonder? Was it the effect of the anesthetic upon my -weakened system? Was it the wild distortion of my brain or, when life is -flickering on the brink of eternity, are we actually brought face to face -with our Creator? Will this question ever be answered in life? I wonder! - - OTIS TREVOR. - - -THE DEATH PLUNGE - -Editor of The Cauldron: I am an expert riveter. When beams are hoisted -into place on buildings I hang suspended in space on a swinglike seat and -rivet the sections together. Had I followed any other pursuit I probably -would never have had the distinction of being the only man to fall twelve -stories and live. It was during the construction of an eighteen story -bank building that I experienced this extraordinary adventure. - -I was working in front on the twelfth story. At this particular time I -was directly under the crane which hoisted the great girders. Happening -to glance down, I saw an exceptionally large load coming up. There were -five. It is seldom that more than three are hoisted at once. I watched -them ascend, interested in the process of landing so many. When they had -almost reached the level of the fifteenth story, the roof-man gave the -signal to slow down. Mistaking his motions, the crane operator pulled his -reverse and the great beams swung inward. - -Seeing that collision between the front of the structure and the beams -was unavoidable, I attempted to get out of the way in the event anything -happened. I was not quick enough. With a crash, the girders smashed into -the building right over the heavy rope from which I hung, cutting it as -though it were string. - -Things happened so fast then that my memory of them is confused. -Instantly I was precipitated downward. I do not know what sensations -a drowning man experiences, but have heard that a whole life time is -flashed across the victim’s mind. That is just what happened in my case. -Everything I ever did came before me in those terrifying moments. - -Though stricken with horror, I tried to keep my mind clear. Far below me -I could see clusters of people gazing at me, horror stricken, as I fell, -turning over and over. - -In a moment’s time I was within four stories of the pavement. My breath -was almost gone. Insane with the thought of the terrible fate that -awaited me, I shut my eyes. Then, with a great roaring in my ears, I -struck, and, though almost dead, knew that it wasn’t the street. For an -instant I was aware of great pain and then ... nothingness. - -Within an hour I had regained consciousness. Fate was with me that day. -Just as I fell a big open truck, piled high with cardboard boxes, had -stopped beneath me. In this I landed; my fall was broken by these boxes, -and I escaped a most horrible death. - -Upon examination, it was found that I suffered four fractured ribs, a -compound fracture of the left leg, two breaks in my right arm and a break -in my left wrist in addition to severe cuts about the body and head. That -is my story. I call it a narrow escape. - - JOHN BURKHOLZ. - - - - -THE EYRIE - - -The time has come to talk of cats and Chinamen, and rattlesnakes and -skulls—and why it is these things abound in yarns for WEIRD TALES. -Particularly cats and Chinamen. Believe it or not, every second -manuscript we open (and that’s placing the average rather low) is -concerned with one or the other, or both, of these. - -Why is this? Is it because a cat and a Chinaman suggest the mysticism of -the Orient, and thus seem excellent “props” for weird fiction? Or is it -merely because both mind their own business, imperturbably pursue their -destinies, and thereby create the impression that there’s some deep-laid -mystery here? We ask you that. - -Whatever the reason, it’s an odd and curious fact that when an author -sets out to tell a weird tale his mind turns, as if instinctively, to -cats and Chinamen. And then, for good measure, he not infrequently throws -in a few rattlesnakes and a skull or two. - -Sometimes the result is interesting. And sometimes it is awful! And -again, sometimes, it is a ludicrous thing, unconsciously funny. - -We have no prejudices against Chinese characters in fiction, and we have -none whatever against cats. For that matter, we haven’t any prejudices -of any sort. We’ve published a good many stories about Chinese, and -quite a large number about cats, and not a few that featured skulls and -rattlesnakes. You’ll find some in this June issue. - -But we didn’t accept those stories because of the aforementioned -features, nor yet in spite of them. We accepted them solely because they -were GOOD stories. We observe one rule, and one rule only, in selecting -stories for your entertainment. We think we’ve mentioned this before, -but we’ll say again that our only requirement is: The thing MUST be -interesting! - -If a story interests us it will likewise interest others, or so we -believe. And if it doesn’t—Thumbs Down! And it doesn’t matter a good gosh -darn whether the hero, or villain, has yellow skin and oblique eyelids, -or flaxen hair and sky-blue eyes, or whether or not a green-eyed cat -howls atop a grinning skull. The story’s the thing! - -All the same, though, we would like to know why all these cats and -Chinamen are slinking mysteriously through our manuscripts. We read eight -before breakfast this morning (chosen quite at random), and we hope to -die if there wasn’t a Chinaman in every last one of them! - - * * * * * - -And still the letters pour in from delighted readers—plenty of them! -Manifestly, it is quite impossible to print more than a fractional part -of them here, but we can’t refrain from quoting at least three that -concern Paul Suter’s story, “Beyond the Door,” which appeared in the -April WEIRD TALES. - -We take it you remember this story and will therefore be interested in -these comments. The first letter comes from R. E. Lambert, secretary of -the Washington Square College of New York University, New York, and reads -as follows: - - “Dear sir: Just as Woodrow Wilson used to say during his most - trying days in the presidency that when he wanted to get his - mind completely off his work he would turn to a detective - story, so I turn for my own relaxation to the horror story. - - “I suppose it would take exhaustive questioning by a - psychoanalyst to discover why this sort of literature appeals - to me, but the fact is it does so appeal. While there are - hundreds of others like me in this respect, I doubt whether - the number is great enough to make such a venture as yours a - considerable financial success—therefore, the more praise to - you for your courage in launching WEIRD TALES. - - “What particularly impelled me to write this letter is the - story in the current issue, entitled ‘Beyond the Door.’ - One reason why I single this one from such a congeries of - thrilling, weird tales is that, with all its mystery and - suggestion of the supernatural, the dénouement and everything - that leads up to it are discovered at the end to be logically - and physically ‘possible.’ So often, in mystery stories, we - are called upon to accept much that simply is not naturally - possible, and we turn from them, duly horrified, but - unpersuaded that the tale is more than a figment of a morbid - imagination. - - “From the standpoint of construction, I have read few stories - that so faithfully adhere to the trinity of short story - tradition—unity, coherence and mass. Especially on the score of - unity, the most important of the trinity, do I find this tale - worthy of much praise. Not a situation, not a paragraph, nor - a sentence, but which has a direct bearing on the unfoldment - of the plot. And I find no single instance where the choice of - words seems to have resulted from a straining for effect. Of - how many stories, whether horrific or any other kind, can this - truly be said? - - “Then, too, very few tales are really brought home to the - reader’s own intimate experience of life. Yet here we shudder - at the terrors created by a guilty conscience, and approve, - while we shudder, of the terrible punishment that is meted out - for the wrong-doing. How very real it thus becomes to all of us! - - “Finally, the author dares to do, and admirably succeeds in - doing, what so few writers of fiction attempt—and mostly bungle - when they do attempt. I refer to the linking of his story in - the closing paragraphs to man’s inevitable, age-old uncertainty - as to what is to come in the hereafter. This alone elevates - ‘Beyond the Door’ out of the ordinary run of fiction. - - “Here’s wishing you a well-merited success!” - -The next one was written by Rev. Andrew Wallace MacNeill, minister of the -Bethlehem Congregational Church, International Falls, Minnesota: - - “Gentlemen: I have read with much interest and pleasure the - April number of your new magazine, which I believe will make - a distinctive and acceptable place for itself in magazine - literature. - - “I am particularly interested in the story by a new writer, - Paul Suter, ‘Beyond the Door’ proving exceptionally appealing - and gripping. I hope you will publish more work by this writer, - as I believe if he maintains the standard of this story your - readers will make quite a popular response.” - -And the third letter, which arrived in the same mail that brought the -first two, came from the author himself: - - “Dear Mr. Baird: I take it that even editors enjoy an - occasional pat on the back, in the midst of the many - black looks they receive, so I am presuming to express my - appreciation of the way in which you printed my story, ‘Beyond - the Door,’ in your April issue. - - “There is a story which might easily have been rendered - monotonous by unintelligent press work—because the effect of - slowly undermining horror, which I had to attain, is akin to - monotony. You avoided that pitfall by change of type—and (this - to me is the remarkable thing) I can tell by the way in which - you ran in those changes that you got absolutely every subtle - suggestion which I concealed in that story—and I buried quite - a lot of them there. You must have read my manuscript with a - microscope. May I take the liberty of expressing my opinion - that as an editor you are emphatically THERE? - - “Cordially yours, - - “J. Paul Suter.” - -We almost dislike to print this last one—it’s too much like pinning a -medal on our coat—but we can plead, in extenuation, that the excellence -of Mr. Suter’s story was not due to our editing, or printer’s directions, -or anything of the sort, but solely to his splendid craftsmanship. He -wrote a good story and we published it, and no amount of editing could -have made it any better. - -If you failed to read “Beyond the Door” we earnestly recommend that you -do so now. In either case, don’t miss his next story. It is called “The -Guard of Honor,” and is fully as “creepy” as the first—and you will find -it in the next issue of WEIRD TALES. - -Suter is a coming writer. No doubt of that. And since he tells us, “I -would rather write horror stories than anything else,” we hope to publish -the best of his work. - - * * * * * - -We’ve ransacked a bale of Letters to the Editor in an effort to find some -not sweet with praise! and we’ve found only two, and here they are: - - “Dear sir: I have purchased two copies of your new magazine, - have read the stories, and also the praise liberally supplied - by friends and readers. I think it is time to offer a few words - of criticism, since applause and praise of this kind does - not mean much. The public lauds any new effort; it applauds - anything, even moving pictures. - - “The stories you have printed so far can be grouped under - three general headings: Ghost Stories, Snake Stories, Insanity - Stories. In your first issue you printed a story called ‘Ooze’ - which approached the type of semi-scientific stories that are - liked intensely by all those who are fond of the unusual, - and if you would publish at least one story of this type in - each issue of your magazine I am sure that your efforts would - register larger sales.”—Conrad A. Brandt, 563 West 150th Street - New York City. - - “My dear Mr. Baird: At last it arrived—that second volume. If - you play that slow trick again on us we shall send one of our - aviators to Chicago to get the so strenuously desired copy. - - “Allow me to tell you which story in the April number I liked - best and which I hate best. ‘The Scar’ by Dr. Carl Ramus was - a gem. Plausible, scientifically correct, well told, no words - wasted. ‘The Whispering Thing’ is the acme of foolish, silly, - nonsensical, high-school girl, bucket-of-blood story. If you - waste more paper on such rotten stuff I predict failure in - caps.”—Adeline Jugol, Covina Apartments, Los Angeles. - -Ouch! - -Luckily, though, not all our readers disrelished “The Whispering Thing.” -For instance: - - “Dear sir: Having recently read the second issue of WEIRD - TALES, I cannot refrain from expressing my congratulations - on your rare fiction taste as an editor. I enjoyed reading - the novelette by Harold Ward, but the authors who wrote ‘The - Whispering Thing’ have an imagination which is extraordinary. I - happened to read this story late at night, and I began to look - for ‘spooks.’ Talk about horror and terror combined! This story - is nothing short of a marvel. - - “I sincerely believe that you have an innate tendency for - selecting stories of this type, and if you keep this class - of stories running you will, without the least doubt, be a - success.”—O. R. Hamilton, 4002 Avenue F, Austin, Texas. - -With regard to the poetic effusion that follows, we’re not sure whether -“Witch Hazel” is spoofing us or having a spasm of ecstasy. At any rate, -we’ll take a chance and print the thing just as she wrote it: - - “Dear Editor: No words can express how much I enjoy your - magazine. Here is what I think of it: - - “Oh, what is more pleasure than a show, - A party, bon bons, or even a beau? - Well, here’s the answer (all readers take heed); - WEIRD TALES and a nice quiet place to read! - - “It’s my favorite magazine, and I can hardly wait for - each number to come out. I think it is the most wonderful - magazine in the world, as it is so different, so extremely - interesting—but there! I can never say enough in its praise. - As my little verse says, ‘I like it better than anything,’ and - I’ve often said I wished some editor would publish just such a - magazine, and thank you, Mr. Baird (you Good Fairy) for doing - so. I can hardly wait for the next issue. Thank you for filling - a long felt need, and good luck!”—Witch Hazel of St. Louis. - -We’ve scores of flattering letters here, but we’re not going to print -them all [prolonged and loud applause], because, for one thing, we -haven’t space, and, for another, we have a sneaking suspicion that our -delight in reading them is not always shared by others. So we’ll run only -five or six more, and call it a day. - - “My dear Mr. Baird: I don’t mind admitting that I was a little - leary about WEIRD TALES when I first heard of it. The fact of - the matter is, I picked up the first copy with a good deal of - prejudice against it. The reason for this prejudice is clear - enough. I have always had a healthy respect for mystery stories - and believe they are the hardest kind to write—and to judge. - - “For this reason I am moved to write you and tell you how very - much my view point has changed. You have not only sold me, you - have enthused me. There is no question about your future. I’ve - talked to many friends who have read the March issue, and I - know.”—A. M. Oliver, 148 North Portage Path, Akron, Ohio. - - “Dear sir: I asked my newsdealer for something different in the - magazine line today, and he handed me a copy of the April WEIRD - TALES. I’ve read many so-called mystery stories, but none can - compare with those I found in your magazine. It is something - altogether new and most fascinating. I especially enjoyed - ‘The Snake Fiend’ and ‘The Conquering Will.’ Those sort of - stories appeal to me. For anybody that is looking for something - different I heartily advise your magazine. May you prosper!”—P. - W. Burrows, Kearney, Nebraska. - - “Dear sirs: ... I was in the business section of Des Moines - one evening recently when my eye fell upon a copy of WEIRD - TALES. Struck by its unusual appearance, I bought one. When - I arrived home it was rather early, and I sat down to read. - Well, I had not finished a half dozen pages before I knew I had - found a marvelous book—in fact, my ideal magazine. Before I had - finished the second story I was as much in its power as our - detective friend seems to be in the power of ‘The Whispering - Thing.’... - - “But here I have been taking up your time with praise of the - Wonder Magazine and haven’t spoken of the most vital thing—the - thing which makes such mighty entertainment possible. Please - find enclosed three dollars for which please enter me for a - year’s subscription to WEIRD TALES, beginning with your third - issue.”—J. C. Wolquist, 1544 Walker Street, Des Moines, Iowa. - - “Dear Mr. Baird: Three weeks ago I bought a copy of WEIRD - TALES, and I am shaking yet, as you probably can tell by - my scribbling!... The first story I read was ‘The Thing of - a Thousand Shapes.’ It happened to be eleven-thirty when I - finished the first installment, and I went to bed quaking in - every limb, firmly resolved never to lay eyes on another copy - of WEIRD TALES. - - “A few days later I passed a news stand. There, glaring into my - eyes, was the interesting cover of WEIRD TALES. I was about to - turn away when curiosity whispered in my ear, ‘What happened to - Billy?’ - - “Being a woman, curiosity, of course, won, and home I went, - with the copy tucked snugly under my arm.... And now I look - on WEIRD TALES as a friend indeed. I daren’t let my little - brother get the magazine before he does his lessons, or they - would never get done, while such an absorbing magazine is - around.”—Miss Marguerite Nicholson, 635 North Frazier Street, - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. - - “Dear Mr. Baird: Congratulations! Your new magazine is simply - splendid. I have often wondered just when I would be able to go - to a news stand and buy a real magazine. Now all my worry has - ceased.... There is one trouble with it, and that is that it - doesn’t come weekly or semi-monthly.”—M. Nawrocki, 854 Robinson - Avenue, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. - - “Dear Mr. Baird: ... I have thoroughly enjoyed DETECTIVE TALES, - every issue of it, and believe that there is more good reading - matter in it than in any other magazine published, and when I - saw a copy of WEIRD TALES at the news stand, with your name or - it, I could not resist getting it. And it has lived up to my - expectations. I could not put the magazine down until I had - finished every story, and that was about three o’clock the next - morning.”...—Mary Sharon, 1912 Main Street, Galena, Kansas. - -And it’s now three o’clock in the afternoon, and the printer is calling -for copy, and— - -That’ll be all. - - THE EDITOR. - - * * * * * - -Margaret Sanger dares to tell the truth about Birth Control - -[Illustration: Margaret Sanger] - -For centuries the world has played a game of “hush” about the one most -important fact of marriage. Even today tens of thousands of women are -doomed to a life of hopeless, helpless drudgery—and their children are -doomed to privation and neglect because the mother simply can not give so -many of them the proper care or support. - -Words alone can not tell the terrible sacrifice in wasted bodies and -blasted lives that has been exacted from women every year. Words alone -can not express the untold suffering tens of thousands of women—and -children—must endure every year. That is why Margaret Sanger, herself a -mother, and President of the American Birth Control League, dares to tell -the truth about this important subject. - -Will you ever write a letter like this? - -Only these agony-laden letters can tell the story of woman’s sacrifice -in all its anguish. These are but a few of thousands sent every day to -Margaret Sanger by unhappy mothers who have turned to her for help in -their greatest need, revealing to her the nameless fears and terrors that -clutch at their hearts. Read these letters, and know for yourself what -women still suffer: - - “It is terrible to think of bringing these little bodies and - souls into the world, without means or strength to care for - them. I know that this must be the last one, for it would be - better for me to go than to bring more neglected babies into - the world.” - - “My baby is only 10 months old, and the oldest of my four - children is 7. I am so discouraged I want to die. Ignorance on - this all-important subject has put me where I am.” - -“Why is it,” Mrs. Sanger asks, “that the women of Australia, New Zealand, -Holland, France, and many other nations are permitted to know the -truths that can save them from this terrible suffering, while the women -of America must still endure the agonies to which they are needlessly -condemned?” Margaret Sanger considers it a slur upon the intelligence -of American womankind to deny to them the knowledge which has brought -freedom, health, happiness, and life itself, to the women of other -nations. That is why she has braved the storms of denunciation, why -she has fought through every court in the land for her right to arouse -woman-kind. - -In her revolutionary book, Margaret Sanger, internationally famous for -her ceaseless activities in behalf of women and hailed as the liberator -of her sex, shows the way out for tired, struggling womankind. With utter -frankness she tears down the veil of silence that has always surrounded -the subject of birth control. It is a startling revelation of a new truth -that will open the eyes of women everywhere. - - Is the Husband or Wife to Blame? - - [Illustration] - - Whose is the blame for the tragedy of too many children—husband - or wife? - - Margaret Sanger, the great Birth Control advocate, comes with a - message vital to every married man and woman. - -In her wonderful book Mrs. Sanger shows how women can and will rise -above the forces that have ruined their beauty—that drag them down—that -wreck their mental and physical strength—that make them an easy prey for -death—that disqualify them for society, for self-improvement—and finally -shut them out from the thing they cherish most, their husband’s love. - -In blazing this revolutionary trail to the new freedom of women, this -daring and heroic author points out that women who can not afford to -have more than one or two children, should not do so. It is a crime to -herself, a crime to her children, a crime to society. - -A Priceless Possession - -Now Margaret Sanger’s message to all women, contained in “Woman and the -New Race,” is made available to the public. A special edition of this -vital book has been published in response to the overwhelming demand. -Order your copy of this wonderful book at once, at the special edition -price of only $2. Then, if after reading it you do not treasure it as a -priceless possession, return it to us and your money will be refunded. - -It is not even necessary to send a penny now. Just the coupon will bring -your copy of “Woman and the New Race.” It is bound in handsome, durable -gray cloth, printed in clear readable type, on good quality book paper -and contains 234 pages, sent to you in a plain wrapper. When the book is -delivered at your home, pay the postman the special low price of $2 plus -the few cents postage. But mail the coupon at once. Tear it off before -you turn this page. - - PARTIAL LIST OF CONTENTS - - * Woman’s Error and Her Debt. - Cries of Despair - * When Should a Woman Avoid Having Children? - Two Classes of Women. - Birth Control—a Parent’s Problem or Woman’s. - * Continence—Is it Practicable or Desirable? - Woman and the New Morality. - * Are Preventive Means Certain? - Legislating Women’s Morals. - * Contraceptives or Abortion. - Progress We Have Made. - - * Any one of these chapters is alone worth many times the price - of the book. - - TRUTH PUBLISHING COMPANY - Dept. T-506 1658 Broadway - New York City - - Truth Publishing Company - Dept. T-506, 1658 Broadway - New York City - - Please send me in plain wrapper, Margaret Sanger’s new book, - “Woman and the New Race.” I am enclosing no money, but will - give the postman who delivers the book to me $2 plus postage. - - Name __________________________________ - - Address _______________________________ - - City __________________ State _________ - - (Orders from countries outside the United States, must be - accompanied by money order.) - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: WANTED! U.S. RAILWAY MAIL CLERKS] - -Get $1600 to $2300 a Year - -MEN—BOYS 18 OR OVER SHOULD MAIL COUPON IMMEDIATELY - -STEADY WORK - -PAID VACATIONS - -NO LAYOFFS - -Common Education Sufficient - -Travel—See the Country - - FRANKLIN INSTITUTE, - Dept. T257, Rochester, N. Y. - - Sirs: Send me, without charge, (1) sample Railway Postal - Clerk Examination questions; (2) tell me how to get a U. S. - Government job; (3) send list of Government jobs obtainable. - - Name ________________________________________ - - Address _____________________________________ - - * * * * * - -BE SURE AND GET YOUR COPY OF WEIRD TALES EVERY MONTH - - * * * * * - -I Will Give You a Chance To Earn $200 a Week - -Right now, today, I offer you an opportunity to be your own boss—to work -just as many hours a day as you please—to start when you want to and quit -when you want to—and earn $200 a week. - -These Are Facts - -Does that sound too good to be true? If it does, then let me tell you -what J. R. Head did in a small town in Kansas. Head lives in a town of -631 people. He was sick, broke, out of a job. He accepted my offer. I -gave him the same chance I am now offering you. At this new work he has -made as high as $69.50 for one day’s work. - -[Illustration: J. R. HEAD] - -You can do every bit as well as he did. If that isn’t enough, then let me -tell you about E. A. Sweet of Michigan. He was an electrical engineer and -didn’t know anything about selling. In his first month’s spare time he -earned $243. Inside of six months he was making between $600 and $1,200 a -month. - -W. J. McCrary is another I want to tell you about. His regular job paid -him $2.00 a day, but this wonderful new work has enabled him to make -$9,000 a year. - -Yes, and right this very minute you are being offered the same -proposition that has made these men so successful. Do you want it? Do you -want to earn $40.00 a day? - -A Clean, High-Grade Dignified Business - -Have you ever heard of Comer All-Weather Coats? They are advertised in -all the leading magazines. A good-looking, stylish coat that’s good for -summer or winter—that keeps out wind, rain or snow, a coat that everybody -should have, made of fine materials for men, women and children, and -sells for less than the price of an ordinary coat. - -Now, Comer Coats are not sold in stores. All our orders come through -our own representatives. Within the next few months we will pay -representatives more than three hundred thousand dollars for sending us -orders. - -And now I am offering you the chance to become our representative in your -territory and get _your_ share of that three hundred thousand dollars. -All you do is to take orders. We do the rest. We deliver. We collect and -you get your money the same day you take the order. - -You can see how simple it is. We furnish you with a complete outfit and -tell you how to get the business in your territory. We help you to get -started. If you send us only six average orders a day, which you can -easily get, you will make $100 a week. - -Maybe You Are Worth $1,000 a Month - -Well, here is your chance to find out, for this is the same proposition -that enabled George Garon to make a clear profit of $40.00 in his first -day’s work—the same proposition that gave R. W. Krieger $20.00 net profit -in a half hour. It is the same opportunity that gave A. B. Spencer $625 -cash for one month’s spare time. - -If you mail the coupon at the bottom of this ad I will show you the -easiest, quickest, simplest plan for making money that you ever heard -of. If you are interested in a chance to earn $200 a week and can devote -all your time or only an hour or so a day to my proposition, write your -name down below, cut out the coupon and mail it to me at once. You take -no risk, and this may be the one outstanding opportunity of your life to -earn more money than you ever thought possible. - -Find Out Now! - -Remember, it doesn’t cost you a penny. You don’t agree to anything and -you will have a chance to go right out and make big money. Do it. Don’t -wait. Get full details. Mail the coupon now. - - C. E. COMER, THE COMER MFG. CO. - Dept. 11-C, Dayton, Ohio - - _JUST MAIL THIS NOW!_ - - THE COMER MFG. CO., Dept. 11-C, Dayton, Ohio - - Please tell me how I can make $200 a week as your - representative. Send me complete details of your offer without - any obligation to me whatsoever. - - _Name_ __________________________________________ - - _Address_ _______________________________________ - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: For Boys and Girls Also] - -Do You Need This Help? - -Check off at the right the use that most interests you and I will send -you my booklet and personal advice. - -The Natural Body Brace overcomes WEAKNESS and ORGANIC ailments of men and -women. Develops erect, graceful figure. Brings restful relief, comfort, -health, strength and ability to do things. IT HAS HELPED NEARLY 200,000. - -Read what users say: “Helped relieve strocious pains and overcame -permanently a spinal curvature.” “Lifted me physically out of darkest -depths of suffering after everything else had failed.” “Gives one an -upright, perfect form.” “I wore it for strengthening a weak back—it -certainly accomplished its purpose.” “Comfortable as a dream.” “Worth all -the money in the world.” - -Wear It 30 Days Free at my expense. Write me in confidence for my -booklet. Check chart at right. I will at once write you my personal -advice and give you our liberal proposition. - - HOWARD C. RASH, President, Natural Body Brace Co. - 400 Rash Building, Salina, Kansas - - □ Weak back - □ Better figure - □ Pregnancy - □ Round shoulders - □ Rupture - □ Constipation - □ Nervousness - □ Enlarged abdomen - □ Weak lungs - □ Stomach trouble - □ Misplaced organs - - * * * * * - -Agents - -[Illustration] - -YE GODS! - -_Some Summer Seller! Made $215 today_—_Writes Bentley_ - -The big opportunity of a generation—the one big chance for quick big -profits to agents. Wonderful OLIVER Oil-Gas Burner turns any range into a -Real Gas Stove—does away with dirty coal and wood. Burns 95% air, 5% oil. -On and off at turn of valve. Every woman wants the Oliver for freedom -from drudgery of roasting Summer Kitchens. Season starting. - -FREE FORDS J. Carnegey is making $1,000 profit a month—W. M. Russell. -$650 a month—Berger. $250 a week! During the past two months we paid out -over $135,000 in salesmen’s commissions! Oliver Burners sell themselves. -Every demonstration a sale. Get your Free Territory and Free Sample -Offer quick. Clean up big this Summer. Spare or full time. Free Fords to -producers. Write or telegraph for full details. Address me personally. - - B. M. Oliver, President - - OLIVER OIL-GAS BURNER & MACHINE CO. - 2416-R Oliver Bldg., St. Louis, Mo. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: _LEARN RADIO_] - -Here’s your opportunity. Radio needs you. Win success in this fascinating -field. Trained men in demand at highest salaries. Learn at home, in your -spare time. - -Be a Radio Expert - -I will train you, quickly and easily to design, construct, install, -operate, repair, maintain, and sell all forms of Radio apparatus. My new -methods are the most successful in existence. Learn to earn - -$1,800 to $10,000 a Year - -FREE Wonderful, home-construction, tube receiving set, of latest design. -Write for “Radio Facts” free. Engineer Mohaupt. - - American Electrical Association - Dept. 176 4513 Ravenswood Ave., Chicago - - * * * * * - -How You Can Make Money In Your Spare Time - -By Learning to Play Your Favorite Musical Instrument this New Easy Way - -[Illustration] - -“I bought a house and a lot, and paid $1,100 toward it; all earned -through teaching piano,” writes Mrs. Mary A. Olsen, 3715 Wadsworth St., -Los Angeles, Cal. “I would not take $1,000 for my financial and social -gain through your lessons. I don’t know how you can give so much for so -little. I think your method is just wonderful.” - -Mrs. Olsen is only one of more than three hundred thousand men, women -and young people who have become accomplished musicians through this -wonderful new method. All the intricate “mysteries” of music have been -reduced to a system of amazing simplicity. Every step is made as clear -as A. B. C. You don’t have to know anything whatever about music. You -learn to play your favorite instrument right in your own home, quickly, -easily and without endless study and practice. Long before you now think -it could ever be possible, you will actually play well enough to be in -demand as a well-paid entertainer, teacher or musician. - -A delighted 17-year-old girl, Miss Jessie Theall of North Houston, Tex. -writes, “My first six entertainments that I played the violin for, paid -me $39.25 besides all the pleasure of playing for my friends.” - -$10 to $40 in Two Hours - -A busy mother, Mrs. Anna M. Lewis of Northfield, Ohio, recently learned -to play the violin in just the few odd moments she could spare from her -household duties, and now earns many welcome dollars to help clothe and -educate her four children. “At weddings and church socials I get from -$10 to $40 for a couple of hours playing,” she writes. “I am invited -everywhere, and my home is so much happier.” - -The new way is fun—not drudgery. You’ll begin to play melodies almost -from the start. You don’t have to pin yourself down to regular hours and -regular classes. You practice whenever you can, and learn as quickly as -you please. - -[Illustration] - -Save Months of Time - -“I have learned to play better than many a conservatory student in easily -one-eighth the time,” writes Miss Kitty Breany, 154 Warren St., Paterson, -N. J. “The lessons are so interesting that they seem like play. A lady I -know spent $400 for a private teacher, but her playing cannot begin to -compare with mine.” - -You can do what Miss Breany has done. Youngsters of from 10 to 12 years -have done it, and people as old as sixty have found new interest and -enjoyment in learning to play a musical instrument. You don’t have to -listen while others entertain. You can be the talented person who is the -center of attraction; who holds the audience fascinated; who wins the -applause—and the dollars. - -Plays in Orchestra and Band - -“I am solo clarinet in a twenty-piece band, (mostly old players),” -writes Gerald O. Cairus, 20 High St., Walton, N. Y. “Also am member of -an eighteen-piece orchestra, whose director has studied in all the large -conservatories of America and Germany. He was astonished when I told him -how I learned to play.” - -“In three months I was playing saxophone in the High School orchestra. -The fourth month I organized a profitable dance orchestra,” writes George -Johnson, 402 Newton St., Salisbury, Md. “And now, at college, I play in -concerts of the Musical Club in New York, Philadelphia, Atlantic City, -etc.” - -Three Months From Today You, Too, Can Play - -Is it the piano that you wish to play, or the organ, violin, guitar, -harp or cello? Do you want to learn to sing from notes? Are you eager -to play “jazz” on the banjo, clarinet, Saxophone, trombone, or the drum -and traps? Does the cornet call to you, or the flute or piccolo? Would -you love to learn the ukulele (the Hawaiian steel guitar)? Choose your -favorite—and play it three months from today. - -You will learn by notes—the only practical way for you to learn. There -are no “numbers” and no “tricks” in this marvelous method. You learn to -read your notes just as you are able to read the letters that make a -word, and you will be able to recognize and play them so that they will -make a melody. You learn harmonies like you learn phrases and expressions -of speech and you learn time like you learn pronunciation. - -Learn to Play Any Instrument - - Piano - Organ - Violin - Drums and Traps - Banjo - Tenor Banjo - Mandolin - Clarinet - Flute - Saxophone - ’Cello - Harmony and Composition - Sight Singing - Guitar - Ukulele - Hawaiian Steel Guitar - Harp - Cornet - Piccolo - Trombone - Voice and Speech Culture - Automatic Finger Control - -Free Book Explains All About This New Method - -Send for this free, valuable book, “Music Lessons in Your Own Home.” It -costs you nothing. You obligate yourself in no way whatever. Everyone -interested in music ought to read the story of this wonderful new -simplified method. - -It will tell you how you can make music a delightful hobby or a -money-maker for your spare hours; how you can take the first steps to a -profitable musical career if you are dissatisfied with your present life -work; how you can be a social favorite, and go everywhere or have fun at -home; how you can do these delightful things quickly, easily and at a -cost so low that it will surprise you. - -Special Short-Time Offer - -This Free Book also tells about a Special Short-time Offer now being made -to music-lovers. Mail the coupon at once for your copy. Remember, it -obligates you in no way whatever. It is FREE! Act now before the supply -is exhausted! - - U.S. SCHOOL OF MUSIC - 406 Brunswick Building - New York City - -_Please write Name and Address plainly so that there will be no -difficulty in booklet reaching you._ - - U. S. SCHOOL OF MUSIC - 406 Brunswick Bldg., New York City - - Please send me 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 ________ - -Every Music Lover Should Have this Amazing FREE Book - -[Illustration] - -Hundreds of happy musicians all over America have helped to write this -absorbing, inspiring book. You will read the fact-stories of dozens of -people situated just as you are today. Their actual personal experiences -are wonderful proofs to you that your success can be equally great. You -will be amazed and delighted to see how marvelously the New Method has -reduced the intricacies of music to such astonishing ease and simplicity. -The book is FREE—but you should send for it right away before all copies -may be gone! - - * * * * * - -_COOK AND BAKE_ - -_With Amazing New Invention_ - -[Illustration] - -No More Sweltering Kitchens in Summer—No More Fires to Build—No More -Dirty Heavy Coal—No More Ashes—No more unsightly Scuttles—No More Smelly, -Sooty Oil Stoves to Clutter Kitchens. No More Slavery to a Hot Kitchen -Stove. - -_Makes Your Range A Gas Stove_ - -Here is the amazing new invention. The Oliver Oil-Gas Burner—that in one -minute, makes your present coal or wood range into a real gas stove that -turns on and off with a valve. Gives much or little heat—only when you -want it—at a twist of your wrist. Just like using city gas. - -_Wonderful Baking_ - -Bake right in your good old oven—better and quicker than ever before. -Don’t waste fuel and get yourself all out of sorts by nursing a hot fire -all day just for cooking and baking. With this wonderful invention you -simply turn a valve, strike a match, and light your fire. In a jiffy the -oven is at a fine even temperature—any degree you want. Put in your roast -or baking—put on your stew or vegetables. Go away and forget them. Come -back when they are done, turn the valve—fire is out instantly—and you -leave your kitchen cool and sweet all day long. - -_Burns 95% Air, 5% Oil_ Fits Any Stove - -Mr. Oliver’s wonderful invention is made in sixteen models—fits any kind -of cook stove or range without changes or drilling. You set it in your -firebox in one minute. Presto! You have a gas stove. Absolutely safe, it -lasts a lifetime. 150,000 in use. - -_30 Days Free Trial_ - -You don’t have to be satisfied with reading about the Oliver. You can -test it for 30 days—bake with it in your own oven—on Mr. Oliver’s Free -Trial Offer. Write at once—don’t delay—and you will be in time to receive -Mr. Oliver’s Special Low Introductory Price and 30 Day Free Trial -Offer, together with his attractive Free Booklet, “New Kind of Heat.” -No obligation, send a postcard, now, before you turn the page. Know the -blessing of this amazing invention. - -AGENTS - -Earn $40 to $50 a week spare time, $250 a week full time. Territory -managers making $5,000 to $15,000 a year. - -I give Fords to my producers. Big Summer season is just starting. Address -me personally, Mr. B. M. Oliver, Pres., at address shown below for sales -plan and Exclusive Territory. - - OLIVER OIL-GAS BURNER & MACHINE CO., - 2416-F Oliver Building. St. Louis, Mo. - Canadian Offices: 2416-F Webster Building, Toronto - - * * * * * - -[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-F Chicago, Ill. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: 10 shot - -1 Year Guarantee] - -32 Cal. Military Automatic - -$9.75 - -Send No Money - -Your opportunity to get a $25.00 regular brand new military blue steel -Automatic for only $9.75. Never before sold near this price. Shoots 10 -shots. Has double safety. Extra magazine free if you order at once. -Shoots standard cartridges. Send no money. Order by number. Pay your -postman prices plus postage on arrival. - -_Free Catalog on request_ - - No. M120x—32 Cal. Military Model. Extra Magazine Free. $9.75 - No. M110x—25 Cal. 7 shot Automatic 7.95 - -ONE YEAR GUARANTEE - -Each automatic is sold with an ironclad guarantee of perfect service for -one year or money back after examination if not satisfied. - - PARAMOUNT TRADING CO., 34 W. 28th St., Dept. M, N.Y.C. - - * * * * * - -25 Song Parodies 25c - -[Illustration] - -Be a parlor entertainer. Make a hit with the crowd. 25 parodies including -“Georgette,” “Hot Lips,” “The Sheik,” “Three O’clock In The Morning,” -“Tomorrow,” and all the big hits mailed on receipt of 25c in stamps, -special get-acquainted price. TRUMAN BROWN, 6283 Delmar, St. Louis, Mo. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: No. 77 X1 No. 77 X2 No. 77 X3] - -_Dazzling Kimberlites_ - -Cannot be told from genuine diamonds. A new discovery makes Kimberlites -the brightest, snappiest, most beautiful stones on the market. Full of -rainbow fire and will stand any test. Ladies’ Square Top and Basket -Tiffany are set in pure Sterling Silver. Gents’ engraved Belcher in 14k -shell, engraved green gold. State size and order by number. Exceptionally -low prices to introduce. - - Ladies’ Square Top $2.85 - Ladies’ Basket Tiffany 2.60 - Gents’ Heavy Belcher 2.70 - -_SEND NO MONEY_ - -Just pay the postman when your ring arrives, our special price, plus a -few cents postage. Your money back at once if you are not highly pleased -after examination. ORDER NOW. Novelty catalog free. - - AMERICAN NOVELTY CO. - 2455-57 Archer Avenue CHICAGO - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - -SEXUAL KNOWLEDGE - -320 PAGES, ILLUSTRATED, CLOTH - -By Winfield Scott Hall, M. D., Ph. D. - -SEX FACTS MADE PLAIN - - What every young man and - Every young woman should know; - What every young husband and - Every young wife should know; - What every parent should know. - -$1.00 POSTPAID - -Mailed in plain wrapper. - -_Table contents and commendations on request_ - - AMERICAN PUB. CO., 677 Winston Bldg., Philadelphia - - * * * * * - -Free Proof - -You Can Learn to Dance In One Evening at Home! - -Why be a wallflower? Why miss most of the real fun when you can so easily -learn to dance in a single evening right in the privacy of your own home? - -[Illustration: _Aren’t they foolish to envy wonderful dancing ability -when they could so easily and quickly learn to dance in their own home?_] - -Week end parties—little social affairs—formal and informal -occasions—regular dances—the phonograph or orchestra going with -toe-tickling music—couples whirling around, dancing the very latest -steps—everybody happy, carefree, and having a fine time! - -It’s a shame for you not to know how to dance, when it is so easy to -learn. Arthur Murray, America’s greatest dancing teacher, has perfected -a wonderful new method that enables you to learn any of the very latest -dances in a few minutes—and to learn all of them in a few hours. - -Even if you don’t know one step from another, you can very quickly learn -to dance in a single evening through this method. You don’t need to leave -your home to learn—you can master any dance in your own room after a few -practice steps. And you can now prove it—at Arthur Murray’s expense. -He will teach you to dance in one evening or your lessons won’t cost -you a cent. Then, at the very next affair when dancing begins, you can -step right out with absolute confidence that every movement you make is -perfectly correct, whether you are dancing the Fox Trot, One Step, Waltz, -or any of the newer steps. - -Here’s What a Few Say: - -I am well satisfied that your way of teaching is best. I have taken -lessons from dancing teachers in Huntington, W. Va., Chattanooga, Tenn., -and Birmingham, Ala. Your instructions are better than the personal -teachers, and thru your methods I am becoming a good dancer. I will do -all in my power to get new pupils for you. - - J. T. BERRY, - Anniston, Ala. - -I want to tell you how wonderful your course is. I was taught by other -dancing teachers, but I prefer your lessons because I accomplished more -and learned more quickly thru your lessons than by other teachers. I am -now enjoying myself very much, and advise all those who want to know the -correct way of dancing to take your lessons. I am enjoying many pleasant -hours. - - E. P. MORRIS, - 3497 Elgin Ave., - Winnipeg, Manitoba, Can. - -I am delighted with the lessons. People are amazed at the ease with which -one grasps the idea from your directions. I feel grateful to you. - - GRACE THREFALL - Guler, Wash. - -I have made use of all the instructions sent me and am well pleased with -the course. - - BEULAH ROGERS, - 4471 Monroe Street, Chicago, Ill. - -Your course has given me a good knowledge of dancing. I am getting along -fine. - - WILLIAM KOLICH, - Elizabeth, N. J. - -I know your lessons pretty well. I attended a dance Thursday and got a -compliment on my dancing. You know I never danced before and when I got -into the ballroom I was the equal of them all. They sure were surprised. - - ARMOND MAROHL, - Mayville, Wis. - -I must say that your dancing course is just simply great! Last night was -the first time I danced. I even danced with the best dancers around here, -and they all marveled at how well I danced. - - HILDA WERTH, - Hampton, Neb. - -Learn Without Partner or Music - -[Illustration: _This is Arthur Murray, Dancing instructor to the -Vanderbilts and many other fashionable people. He has taught more than -90,000 people how to dance, through his learn-at-home methods._] - -With Arthur Murray’s remarkable correspondence method, you don’t need any -one to explain the simple instructions—neither do you actually require -music. After you have learned the steps alone in your own room, you can -dance perfectly with any one. It will also be quite easy for you to dance -in correct time on any floor to any orchestra or phonograph music. - -Arthur Murray is recognized as America’s foremost authority on social -dancing. Such people as the Vanderbilts, Ex-Governor Locke Craig, of -North Carolina, as well as scores of other socially prominent people, -chose Mr. Murray as their dancing instructor. In fact, dancing teachers -the world over take lessons from him. And more than 90,000 people -have successfully learned to become wonderful dancers through his -learn-at-home system. - -Special Free Proof Offer - -Private instruction in Mr. Murray’s studio would cost you $10 for each -lesson. But through his new method of teaching dancing in your own home, -you get the same high-class instruction at a ridiculously low price. And -if you aren’t delighted, it doesn’t cost you a penny. - -Here is Mr. Murray’s special offer—made for a limited time and the right -is reserved to withdraw it at any time without notice. He will send you -the following sixteen lessons for five days’ free trial. - -The Correct Dancing Position—How to Gain Confidence—How to Follow -Successfully—The Art of Making Your Feet Look Attractive—The Correct -Walk in the Fox Trot—The Basic Principles in Waltzing—How to Waltz -Backward—The Secret of Leading—The Chasse in the Fox Trot—The Forward -Waltz Step—How to Leave One Partner to Dance with Another—How to Learn -and Also Teach Your Child to Dance—What the Advanced Dancer Should -Know—How to Develop Your Sense of Rhythm—Etiquette of the Ballroom. - -Send No Money—Not One Cent - -All you need to do to get these sixteen lessons is to simply fill in and -mail the coupon and the complete sixteen lessons will be promptly sent. -When the postman hands them to you, just deposit $1.00 with him, plus a -few cents postage, in full payment. Then examine the system carefully -for five days, follow the easy instructions and prove to yourself that -you have found the quickest, easiest, most delightful method to learn to -dance. If, within 5 days you desire to do so, return the course and your -dollar will be promptly refunded to you. But if you decide to keep the -course—as you surely will—it is yours without any further payment. - -You positively can not fail to become a perfect dancer if you follow the -few easy instructions. In fact your satisfaction is guaranteed. Remember, -you send no money in advance, just sign and mail the coupon and the -complete sixteen-lesson course will come to you by return mail. 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