The Spring of the Tiger

by Victoria Holt

  "Why should they?"

  She pondered this. "The stalking in the jungle. That could be someone trying to play a joke, an unpleasant one, trying to make you panic. The rapping on the door and opening it. . . that's certainly strange."

  "Next time I shall be off the bed and after whoever it is. Next time I shall make certain who is following me."

  "Be careful, Sarah."

  "What do you mean, Clytie? You speak as though you think I might be in some danger."

  "Whoever is doing these things must have a motive."

  "Some people would say it was imagination."

  "It could be that someone is trying to make you nervous."

  "Who would want to do that?"

  "I don't know," she said, but somehow with a lack of conviction.

  "Clytie, you will help me if you can?"

  "Of course I will."

  "Then if you know something, tell me."

  "I don't know anything. I can only make a guess. It's embarrassing. I think this may concern . . . No, I'm sure I'm wrong. It's such a wild surmise."

  "Clytie, I am your sister. However wild your surmise, I want to know."

  "People here are different from you, Sarah. They have a different code . . . different ideas. ... I was thinking about Anula. Oh no . . . it's impossible. I shouldn't have said it."

  "You should and I'll say the rest for you. I know that Anula was Clinton's mistress. He has admitted it. She resents my being here. Perhaps she has some notion of driving me away."

  "It was well known," admitted Clytie. "They made no secret of it. I think she may have believed he would marry her. He might have done so. Through her mother she is of a noble family and because she was so outstanding right from her childhood, her par-

  ents gave her an education which the other children did not get. She is the eldest and her mother was alive when she was growing up. Her mother died when Ashraf was born and Leila was very young then. Anula was brought up according to European standards. That is why she is different from the others and would fit more easily into our society. I think it may well be that she resents you and is trying these tricks to alarm you and perhaps drive you away."

  "Surely she couldn't hope to do that by stalking me in the jungle or getting Leila to rap on my door."

  "! told you, didn't I, that it was just an idea that came to me. Anula is a strange creature. Quite a lot of people believe that she really is a reincarnation of the queen of that name, the first Queen of Ceylon who became so through marrying the King. There are some who refer to Clinton as the King of Kandy. He is so powerful here and is gradually acquiring more and more of the country's profitable industries. A king, you see, of his era. But Anula would become Queen through a marriage with King Clinton and perhaps that was what she hoped for. It would be working out her karma. She failed once but she was going to succeed this time. That's how her mind would work. Then Clinton returned from England with a bride."

  "Do you really think she would go to great lengths to get rid of me?"

  "I really don't know. I'm just trying to find an explanation."

  "I can't imagine that exquisite creature stalking me in the woods."

  "She might have sent Ashraf to do it. Leila could have done the door-rapping. They would obey her absolutely. She has made them believe she has very special powers and they dare not offend her."

  "WhatshallIdo,Clytie?"

  "Ignore it. Try not to let it worry you."

  "Clinton and Celia think I have imagined these things. I can see they do."

  "Then don't tell them any more. Keep it to yourself. Be watchful and try to find out who is trying to frighten you."

  It did make some sort of sense. I must remember that I was in a

  strange land and what would seem wildly absurd at home was not so here. People here thought differently; some might say they were nearer to nature; they held beliefs which seemed strange to us but which were perfectly natural to them. I must not make the mistake of applying the same standards to the people here as I would to those at home.

  It might well be that Anula believed she and Clinton were destined for each other. As Clytie had said, he was even called the King of Kandy—king in a different sense from the ancient rulers, yet he was the most powerful man here and ruled in a way.

  It seemed quite ridiculous, but I was grateful to Clytie for listening and taking me seriously.

  Anula was certainly the most likely explanation.

  It was like a nightmare slowly creeping up on me. They were such foolish things. I would put something in the place it always occupied and then find it somewhere else. I tried to shrug this off but it was becoming increasingly diflBcult.

  Clinton was aware of it. He said I was a scatterbrain. Leila noticed it; she looked mysterious and I knew she was thinking of the Spirit of the Moon. Celia was getting worried and she, in her turn, was trying not to betray it. As for myself I was becoming really alarmed. It might well have been my anxiety which made me more liable to do strange things. I could not understand it.

  I became nervous when I went into the bedroom. I was always wondering what I would find. When I lay on my bed and tried to rest I would find myself staring at the door, expecting it to open suddenly.

  Clinton was away now and then and since Celia was staying in the house I did not go to Clytie. Sometimes I wished I could for I felt the mischief was in this house.

  When I was at Ashington's I felt better. I could talk to Clytie more easily than I could to Celia, but even Clytie was beginning to show a little uneasiness now.

  What had happened to me? It was almost as though I were bewitched. Sometimes I would have vague dreams as though I were in a drugged sleep and I would imagine I saw strange figures in my room.

  This was beginning to have its effect on me. I was pale. I lost a little weight and there were dark shadows under my eyes.

  I tried to conceal this from Clinton. He was the sort of man who thought illness a fault in the sufferers; I knew he would never be patient with an invalid. An invalid! I was not that. I was the victim of some strange . . . spell, some bewitchment which had taken possession of me.

  Once in the night when I was sleeping heavily, I heard voices in the room. Clinton was away for the night and I had gone to bed early at Celia's suggestion. Leila had made a warm drink for me which would be soothing, she said. I slept deeply and I was awakened by what I thought was a light touch on my cheek. There was no light in the room. I heard my name spoken. "Sarah, Sarah, it is the Spirit of the Moon who calls to you. . . ."

  I forced myself to wake fully. Of course there was no one in the room. It was just a dream.

  One day I went to my room and smelled there the faint odor of sandalwood. It sickened me and made me think of Anula. In the drawer was the bottle of scent which she had given me. A drop of it washed away the sins of the year. I could hear Clinton laughing at that.

  The bottle must be leaking. There was a dampness around the stopper. I smelled it. Strange perfume, exotic. Eastern.

  Leila came in. "I smell sandalwood," she said. "It makes something holy in this room."

  "Your sister Anula gave me this bottle."

  Her eyes lighted with respect. "Then it is specially good. It make of this room holy place."

  "I hardly think that," I said.

  "It is the most important incense, Missee Sarah. When there are festivals people give much money for sticks of sandalwood. That means they earn repentance for their sins."

  "It seems to be associated with sin, this perfume."

  "Oh yes. It is put on the feet of those about to die so that when they go up to heaven the perfume goes with them."

  "Very interesting. I find it a little sickening, however."

  "Missee Sarah speak against what is sacred."

  Having touched the bottle, the scent seemed to cling to my

  hands. When I went downstairs Ceha noticed it. I told her that Anula had given it to me. She knew about Anula; how much I was not sure, but
she made it clear that she did not approve of her. I went on to tell her what Leila had said about the sacred qualities of sandalwood.

  "It's a strange perfume," she said. "I'm not sure whether I like it or not."

  When I next went to my room I smelled a strong odor of sandalwood there. It seemed to cling to the curtains. I was reminded of Anula's house and I wanted to let a fresh wind blow through the place.

  I woke up one morning after a night of deep sleep, feeling heavy-eyed and reluctant to wake up as I sometimes did nowadays.

  As I was putting on my stockings I smelled sandalwood and I realized that it was on my feet! A shiver ran right through my body and the hairs of the back of my neck seemed to be rising. They put sandalwood on the feet of those about to die. Was that what Leila had said?

  I think that unnerved me more than anything that had happened so far.

  Two days later I was writing to Toby. I had made up my mind that I had to do something. I had refused to face up to it before but I was thinking a great deal about Aunt Martha and I had dreamed of her once or twice, creeping along the corridor to my mother's room. She had murdered my mother. I had suspected it and now I was sure. It was a madness which had crept up on her. One would have thought her to be the sanest person one could meet. Meticulous, conventional, sure of herself and yet capable of an obsession. Hers was all due to those pearls. They had taken possession of her and there was madness in them.

  Madness! It was a horrible word and one which I had omitted to use for some time . . . ever since those strange things had begun to happen.

  Could it really be that there was some madness in my family? Hadn't Aunt Martha been mad when she crept along the corridor and decided to destroy my mother? She had even selected the

  bride for my father. Yes, that was madness. I was frightened. I had always been a level-headed person. I did not fly into rages. I had been fairly clear-thinking, reasonably logical, but now I was acting strangely. I was seeing strange things which others did not see. Hallucinations. That figure I had fancied I had seen in my room. What had I seen? I did not know. The light was too dim. It was a presence . . . nothing more. "Sarah, Sarah, I am the Spirit of the Moon . . ."

  The Spirit of the Moon brought madness.

  Could I tell Clinton of my fears? No. He would laugh at them. He was my husband but there was little tenderness between us. He desired me with a wild passion which thrived on conflict. I was the same toward him. Was that love? If so, it was not what I had always thought love to be. He would be impatient vidth weakness because he was so strong. He liked me when I fought him. He wanted no weak or frightened woman. I imagined that Anula would stand up to him, fight him, quarrel with him. She would be his sort of woman.

  No, I could not tell Clinton. I had told Clytie a certain amount and she was sympathetic. She believed that Anula hated me and might possibly be trying to get rid of me. I was ready to do battie against Anula if necessary, but I felt inadequate and unsure. Anula could not have come into my room at night. She was far away . . . perhaps with Clinton, for all I knew. Tell Celia. I could up to a point but her attitude frightened me. She knew about Aunt Martha and I would often find her watching me with a terrible anxiety in her eyes. Celia was a good friend and she was afraid for me. She had been there when my mother died and she believed that Aunt Martha was mad.

  Am I going mad? I asked myself. Is this how madness starts?

  Then I remembered those days of my childhood and that there was always one to whom I could take my troubles. He had never failed me; he had always supported me; he had bolstered me up when my courage waned; he had always told me there was something special about me. "You can do it, Sarah," he used to say. "If anyone can, that's you."

  Toby! I was suddenly weak with emotion because I was already in touch with Toby.

  So I wrote to him. I had already told him something. He knew that Celia was with me and he was glad of that. She seems a good, steady girl by all accounts, he wrote. I had not told him about Anula. He would be horrified to think she was still seeing Clinton. It was easier to say nothing about that. But I did want to tell him of the strangeness which had come into my life.

  First it began by the certainty that I was being followed in the woods. It's really jungle. You will know well the sort of place. One could get frightened there because of the strange creatures ... so different from the ones at home. I shall never forget my first gHmpse of a cobra and the prickling sensation it sent down my spine. The lizards on the walls ... so still, and then suddenly darting forward; and the colonies of ants on the march are the most terrifying of all. So perhaps I could get rather imaginative in the jungle. But it has happened twice. I was followed. Toby, I am sure I didn't imagine it. There were distinct footsteps. And there was a feeling ... a definite feeling. It was sinister. Then there was the rap on my door . . . and no one there. And the door opening and the strange drowsiness and the awareness that someone was in my room. Toby, think about this and tell me what you think it means.

  There is something else. You will know the scent of sandalwood. It's a sacred perfume, I had a bottle given to me. I don't like it. One day when I went to my room I found the air full of the smell of it. I went to my bottle. It was half empty. I had not scented my room with it, Toby, yet it was there on the curtains . . . everywhere. I wondered how it had happened. I wanted to find out. I had to. I asked everyone who could have gone into my room. Had they perfumed it? They swore they hadn't. And they looked at me oddly. I knew what they were thinking. I have been acting a bit strange lately. They believed that I had thrown the scent about the room myself. I could see they did. I had talked of the scent to Leila only the day before. She had talked about its being sacred. "I reckon it was on your mind," she said. Toby, do you believe I would have thrown that stuff all around the room and not known that I had done it? One morning it was on my feet. They put it on the feet of those about to die. It's a sort of ritual. Someone must have put it on my feet while I slept. That shook me more than anything. It made it more sinister

  than ever, as though someone is telling me that I am going to die.

  I think the hardest thing is to be upset about these things and have to pretend I'm not. Something is happening here, I'm sure of it. That's what I think at one moment. The next I'm asking myself: "Is there something wrong with me? Am I imagining these things?" That's what I ask myself. I have to, Toby, and I want you to reassure me, as you always did.

  Now let me tell you what happened. I took this half-empty bottle of sandalwood and I went into the jungle and threw it away . . . right among the tangled undergrowth. I had that strange feeling that someone was watching me. It's a strange feeling, Toby, and one that I have become familiar with lately. I came back to the house. I could still smell the stuff in my room, but I fancied it was fainter. It would gradually subside, I promised myself.

  This is one of the most frightening things, Toby. I went to my drawer and opened it and there was the half-empty bottle of sandalwood. I picked it up. It was damp around the top. It was without doubt the bottle of sandalwood which I had thrown away in the jungle. What could I think, Toby? What can I think? I had taken it out and thrown it away . . . and there it was back again. I have tried to reason. I thought of you and what you used to say about facing up to your worries and looking them straight in the face. I think of you a lot, Toby. Well, this could not be the same bottle, I told myself. It was another one. Either that or someone had taken the old bottle and brought it back. Why? I started to question myself then. Had I really thrown the bottle away or meant to and thought I did?

  I went out into the jungle to look for the bottle. It was late afternoon. I went straight to the spot where I had thrown it. The growth was thick there. I pushed back the foliage and there where the bottle had been was a cobra, coiled up, awaiting me.

  Imagine my horror. I leaped back and ran as fast as I could back to the house. Clinton had come in. I threw myself at him and screamed that I had seen a cobra in the wood close to the h
ouse. They went out, he, his head man Nankeen, with some of the others. I followed them to show them where I had seen it. They had sticks and weapons and things. It was near the edge of the wood, you see, and they were afraid it might get into the garden or into the house.

  It was coiled up asleep," I cried. "I saw it clearly." But there was nothing there. They hunted around but there was no trace of the thing. Old Nankeen kept shaking his head and saying: "No cobra here. No trace cobra." As though I had imagined it.

  I'm sure they all thought I had. Clinton laughed at me and the men were laughing too. "No cobra, missee," Nankeen kept saying. I felt foolish. But I had seen it, Toby.

  Toby, there is something going on here. Write to me and tell me what you think is happening. I have reason to believe that my Aunt Martha was a little strange in the head. Frankly, I'm terrified. This is a cry for help. You are the one in the world who, I feel, can help me most, I knew that when we were in Denton Square and I know it now.

  Toby, please, please write soon.

  Having written that letter, I must post it right away, although it would not go until tomorrow when the post came in, but in spite of this I could not wait to send it on its way.

  Celia rode into Manganiya with me and when I said I wanted to go to the post she said: "Isn't it tomorrow it comes in?"

  "Yes," I replied, "but I want to get something off today."

  She looked at me oddly and I believe she was thinking this was another example of my strangeness.

  So we went into the post ofEce and I myself dropped the letter into the sack.

  "It's obviously a very important letter," said Celia lightly,

  "It's to an old friend in India. Toby."

  "Oh yes, I remember."

  I was almost light-hearted as we rode back to the house, such was my faith in Toby.

  The greatest shock of all in this most mysterious matter was yet to come. It shattered me so completely that it was impossible to ignore these strange hallucinations any longer.