The Beetle: A Mystery

by Richard Marsh

  CHAPTER V

  AN INSTRUCTION TO COMMIT BURGLARY

  That the man in the bed was the one whom, to my cost, I had sufferedmyself to stumble on the night before, there could, of course, not bethe faintest doubt. And yet, directly I saw him, I recognised that someastonishing alteration had taken place in his appearance. To beginwith, he seemed younger,--the decrepitude of age had given place tosomething very like the fire of youth. His features had undergone somesubtle change. His nose, for instance, was not by any means sogrotesque; its beak-like quality was less conspicuous. The most part ofhis wrinkles had disappeared, as if by magic. And, though his skin wasstill as yellow as saffron, his contours had rounded,--he had even comeinto possession of a modest allowance of chin. But the most astoundingnovelty was that about the face there was something which wasessentially feminine; so feminine, indeed, that I wondered if I couldby any possibility have blundered, and mistaken a woman for a man; someghoulish example of her sex, who had so yielded to her depravedinstincts as to have become nothing but a ghastly reminiscence ofwomanhood.

  The effect of the changes which had come about in his appearance--for,after all, I told myself that it was impossible that I could have beensuch a simpleton as to have been mistaken on such a question asgender--was heightened by the self-evident fact that, very recently, hehad been engaged in some pitched battle; some hand to hand, and,probably, discreditable encounter, from which he had borne awayuncomfortable proofs of his opponent's prowess. His antagonist couldhardly have been a chivalrous fighter, for his countenance was markedby a dozen different scratches which seemed to suggest that the weaponsused had been someone's finger-nails. It was, perhaps, because the heatof the battle was still in his veins that he was in such a state ofexcitement. He seemed to be almost overwhelmed by the strength of hisown feelings. His eyes seemed literally to flame with fire. The musclesof his face were working as if they were wholly beyond his own control.When he spoke his accent was markedly foreign; the words rushed fromhis lips in an inarticulate torrent; he kept repeating the same thingover and over again in a fashion which was not a little suggestive ofinsanity.

  'So you're not dead!--you're not dead:--you're alive!--you're alive!Well,--how does it feel to be dead? I ask you!--Is it not good to bedead? To keep dead is better,--it is the best of all! To have made anend of all things, to cease to strive and to cease to weep, to cease towant and to cease to have, to cease to annoy and to cease to long, tono more care,--no!--not for anything, to put from you the curse oflife,--forever!--is that not the best? Oh yes!--I tell you!--do I notknow? But for you such knowledge is not yet. For you there is thereturn to life, the coming out of death,--you shall live on!--forme!--Live on!'

  He made a movement with his hand, and, directly he did so, it happenedas on the previous evening, that a metamorphosis took place in the veryabysses of my being. I woke from my torpor, as he put it, I came out ofdeath, and was alive again. I was far, yet, from being my own man; Irealised that he exercised on me a degree of mesmeric force which I hadnever dreamed that one creature could exercise on another; but, atleast, I was no longer in doubt as to whether I was or was not dead. Iknew I was alive.

  He lay, watching me, as if he was reading the thoughts which occupiedmy brain,--and, for all I know, he was.

  'Robert Holt, you are a thief.'

  'I am not.'

  My own voice, as I heard it, startled me,--it was so long since it hadsounded in my ears.

  'You are a thief! Only thieves come through windows,--did you not comethrough the window?' I was still,--what would my contradiction haveavailed me? 'But it is well that you came through the window,--well youare a thief,--well for me! for me! It is you that I am wanting,--at thehappy moment you have dropped yourself into my hands,--in the nick oftime. For you are my slave,--at my beck and call,--my familiar spirit,to do with as I will,--you know this,--eh?'

  I did know it, and the knowledge of my impotence was terrible. I feltthat if I could only get away from him; only release myself from thebonds with which he had bound me about; only remove myself from thehorrible glamour of his near neighbourhood; only get one or two squaremeals and have an opportunity of recovering from the enervating stressof mental and bodily fatigue;--I felt that then I might be somethinglike his match, and that, a second time, he would endeavour in vain tobring me within the compass of his magic. But, as it was, I wasconscious that I was helpless, and the consciousness was agony. Hepersisted in reiterating his former falsehood.

  'I say you are a thief!--a thief, Robert Holt, a thief! You camethrough a window for your own pleasure, now you will go through awindow for mine,--not this window, but another.' Where the jest lay Idid not perceive; but it tickled him, for a grating sound came from histhroat which was meant for laughter. 'This time it is as a thief thatyou will go,--oh yes, be sure.'

  He paused, as it seemed, to transfix me with his gaze. His unblinkingeyes never for an instant quitted my face. With what a frightfulfascination they constrained me,--and how I loathed them!

  When he spoke again there was a new intonation in hisspeech,--something bitter, cruel, unrelenting.

  'Do you know Paul Lessingham?'

  He pronounced the name as if he hated it,--and yet as if he loved tohave it on his tongue.

  'What Paul Lessingham?'

  'There is only one Paul Lessingham! THE Paul Lessingham,--the GREATPaul Lessingham!'

  He shrieked, rather than said this, with an outburst of rage sofrenzied that I thought, for the moment, that he was going to spring onme and rend me. I shook all over. I do not doubt that, as I replied, myvoice was sufficiently tremulous.

  'All the world knows Paul Lessingham,--the politician,--the statesman.'

  As he glared at me his eyes dilated. I still stood in expectation of aphysical assault. But, for the present, he contented himself with words.

  'To-night you are going through his window like a thief!'

  I had no inkling of his meaning,--and, apparently, judging from hisnext words, I looked something of the bewilderment I felt.

  'You do not understand?--no!--it is simple!--what could be simpler? Isay that to-night--to-night!--you are going through his window like athief. You came through my window,--why not through the window of PaulLessingham, the politician--the statesman.'

  He repeated my words as if in mockery. I am--I make it my boast!--ofthat great multitude which regards Paul Lessingham as the greatestliving force in practical politics; and which looks to him, withconfidence, to carry through that great work of constitutional andsocial reform which he has set himself to do. I daresay that my tone,in speaking of him, savoured of laudation,--which, plainly, the man inthe bed resented. What he meant by his wild words about my goingthrough Paul Lessingham's window like a thief, I still had not thefaintest notion. They sounded like the ravings of a madman.

  As I continued silent, and he yet stared, there came into his toneanother note,--a note of tenderness,--a note of which I had not deemedhim capable.

  'He is good to look at, Paul Lessingham,--is he not good to look at?'

  I was aware that, physically, Mr Lessingham was a fine specimen ofmanhood, but I was not prepared for the assertion of the fact in such aquarter,--nor for the manner in which the temporary master of my fatecontinued to harp and enlarge upon the theme.

  'He is straight,--straight as the mast of a ship,--he is tall,--hisskin is white; he is strong--do I not know that he is strong--howstrong!--oh yes! Is there a better thing than to be his wife? hiswell-beloved? the light of his eyes? Is there for a woman a happierchance? Oh no, not one! His wife!--Paul Lessingham!'

  As, with soft cadences, he gave vent to these unlooked-for sentiments,the fashion of his countenance was changed. A look of longing came intohis face--of savage, frantic longing--which, unalluring though it was,for the moment transfigured him. But the mood was transient.

  'To be his wife,--oh yes!--the wife of his scorn! the despised andrejected!'

  The return to the venom of his former bitterness was r
apid,--I couldnot but feel that this was the natural man. Though why a creature suchas he was should go out of his way to apostrophise, in such a manner, apublicist of Mr Lessingham's eminence, surpassed my comprehension. Yethe stuck to his subject like a leech,--as if it had been one in whichhe had an engrossing personal interest.

  'He is a devil,--hard as the granite rock,--cold as the snows ofArarat. In him there is none of life's warm blood,--he is accursed! Heis false,--ay, false as the fables of those who lie for love oflies,--he is all treachery. Her whom he has taken to his bosom he wouldput away from him as if she had never been,--he would steal from herlike a thief in the night,--he would forget she ever was! But theavenger follows after, lurking in the shadows, hiding among the rocks,waiting, watching, till his time shall come. And it shall come!--theday of the avenger!--ay, the day!'

  Raising himself to a sitting posture, he threw his arms above his head,and shrieked with a demoniac fury. Presently he became a trifle calmer.Reverting to his recumbent position, resting his head upon his hand, heeyed me steadily; then asked me a question which struck me as being,under the circumstances, more than a little singular.

  'You know his house,--the house of the great Paul Lessingham,--thepolitician,--the statesman?'

  'I do not.'

  'You lie!--you do!'

  The words came from him with a sort of snarl,--as if he would havelashed me across the face with them.

  'I do not. Men in my position are not acquainted with the residences ofmen in his. I may, at some time, have seen his address in print; but,if so, I have forgotten it.'

  He looked at me intently, for some moments, as if to learn if I spokethe truth; and apparently, at last, was satisfied that I did.

  'You do not know it?--Well!--I will show it you,--I will show the houseof the great Paul Lessingham.'

  What he meant I did not know; but I was soon to learn,--an astoundingrevelation it proved to be. There was about his manner something hardlyhuman; something which, for want of a better phrase, I would callvulpine. In his tone there was a mixture of mockery and bitterness, asif he wished his words to have the effect of corrosive sublimate, andto sear me as he uttered them.

  'Listen with all your ears. Give me your whole attention. Hearken to mybidding, so that you may do as I bid you. Not that I fear yourobedience,--oh no!'

  He paused,--as if to enable me to fully realise the picture of myhelplessness conjured up by his jibes.

  'You came through my window, like a thief. You will go through mywindow, like a fool. You will go to the house of the great PaulLessingham. You say you do not know it? Well, I will show it you. Iwill be your guide. Unseen, in the darkness and the night, I will stalkbeside you, and will lead you to where I would have you go.--You willgo just as you are, with bare feet, and head uncovered, and with but asingle garment to hide your nakedness. You will be cold, your feet willbe cut and bleeding,--but what better does a thief deserve? If any seeyou, at the least they will take you for a madman; there will betrouble. But have no fear; bear a bold heart. None shall see you whileI stalk at your side. I will cover you with the cloak ofinvisibility,--so that you may come in safety to the house of the greatPaul Lessingham.'

  He paused again. What he said, wild and wanton though it was, wasbeginning to fill me with a sense of the most extreme discomfort. Hissentences, in some strange, indescribable way, seemed, as they camefrom his lips, to warp my limbs; to enwrap themselves about me; toconfine me, tighter and tighter, within, as it were, swaddling clothes;to make me more and more helpless. I was already conscious thatwhatever mad freak he chose to set me on, I should have no option butto carry it through.

  'When you come to the house, you will stand, and look, and seek for awindow convenient for entry. It may be that you will find one open, asyou did mine; if not, you will open one. How,--that is your affair, notmine. You will practise the arts of a thief to steal into his house.'

  The monstrosity of his suggestion fought against the spell which heagain was casting upon me, and forced me into speech,--endowed me withthe power to show that there still was in me something of a man; thoughevery second the strands of my manhood, as it seemed, were slippingfaster through the fingers which were strained to clutch them.

  'I will not.'

  He was silent. He looked at me. The pupils of his eyes dilated,--untilthey seemed all pupil.

  'You will.--Do you hear?--I say you will.'

  'I am not a thief, I am an honest man,--why should I do this thing?'

  'Because I bid you.'

  'Have mercy!'

  'On whom--on you, or on Paul Lessingham?--Who, at any time, has shownmercy unto me, that I should show mercy unto any?'

  He stopped, and then again went on,--reiterating his former incrediblesuggestion with an emphasis which seemed to eat its way into my brain.

  'You will practise the arts of a thief to steal into his house; and,being in, will listen. If all be still, you will make your way to theroom he calls his study.'

  'How shall I find it? I know nothing of his house.'

  The question was wrung from me; I felt that the sweat was standing ingreat drops upon my brow.

  'I will show it you.'

  'Shall you go with me?'

  'Ay,--I shall go with you. All the time I shall be with you. You willnot see me, but I shall be there. Be not afraid.'

  His claim to supernatural powers, for what he said amounted to nothingless, was, on the face of it, preposterous, but, then, I was in nocondition to even hint at its absurdity. He continued.

  'When you have gained the study, you will go to a certain drawer, whichis in a certain bureau, in a corner of the room--I see it now; when youare there you shall see it too--and you will open it.'

  'Should it be locked?'

  'You still will open it.'

  'But how shall I open it if it is locked?'

  'By those arts in which a thief is skilled. I say to you again thatthat is your affair, not mine.'

  I made no attempt to answer him. Even supposing that he forced me, bythe wicked, and unconscionable exercise of what, I presumed, were thehypnotic powers with which nature had to such a dangerous degreeendowed him, to carry the adventure to a certain stage, since he couldhardly, at an instant's notice, endow me with the knack of pickinglocks, should the drawer he alluded to be locked--which mightProvidence permit!--nothing serious might issue from it after all. Heread my thoughts.

  'You will open it,--though it be doubly and trebly locked, I say thatyou will open it.--In it you will find--' he hesitated, as if toreflect--'some letters; it may be two or three,--I know not just howmany,--they are bound about by a silken ribbon. You will take them outof the drawer, and, having taken them, you will make the best of yourway out of the house, and bear them back to me.'

  'And should anyone come upon me while engaged in these nefariousproceedings,--for instance, should I encounter Mr Lessingham himself,what then?'

  'Paul Lessingham?--You need have no fear if you encounter him.'

  'I need have no fear!--If he finds me, in his own house, at dead ofnight, committing burglary!'

  'You need have no fear of him.'

  'On your account, or on my own?--At least he will have me haled togaol.'

  'I say you need have no fear of him. I say what I mean.'

  'How, then, shall I escape his righteous vengeance? He is not the manto suffer a midnight robber to escape him scatheless,--shall I have tokill him?'

  'You will not touch him with a finger,--nor will he touch you.'

  'By what spell shall I prevent him?'

  'By the spell of two words.'

  'What words are they?'

  'Should Paul Lessingham chance to come upon you, and find you in hishouse, a thief, and should seek to stay you from whatever it is you maybe at, you will not flinch nor flee from him, but you will stand still,and you will say--'

  Something in the crescendo accents of his voice, something weird andominous, caused my heart to press against my ribs, so that when hestopped, in
my eagerness I cried out,

  'What?'

  'THE BEETLE!'

  As the words came from him in a kind of screech, the lamp went out, andthe place was all in darkness, and I knew, so that the knowledge filledme with a sense of loathing, that with me, in the room, was the evilpresence of the night before. Two bright specks gleamed in front of me;something flopped from off the bed on to the ground; the thing wascoming towards me across the floor. It came slowly on, and on, and on.I stood still, speechless in the sickness of my horror. Until, on mybare feet, it touched me with slimy feelers, and my terror lest itshould creep up my naked body lent me voice, and I fell shrieking likea soul in agony.

  It may be that my shrieking drove it from me. At least, it went. I knewit went. And all was still. Until, on a sudden, the lamp flamed outagain, and there, lying, as before, in bed, glaring at me with hisbaleful eyes, was the being whom, in my folly, or in mywisdom,--whichever it was!--I was beginning to credit with thepossession of unhallowed, unlawful powers.

  'You will say that to him; those two words; they only; no more. And youwill see what you will see. But Paul Lessingham is a man of resolution.Should he still persist in interference, or seek to hinder you, youwill say those two words again. You need do no more. Twice willsuffice, I promise you.--Now go.--Draw up the blind; open the window;climb through it. Hasten to do what I have bidden you. I wait here foryour return,--and all the way I shall be with you.'