The Woman with One Hand, and Mr. Ely's Engagement

by Richard Marsh

  CHAPTER II

  THE WAITER--AND THE HAND

  When I had dined--they gave me for nothing a better dinner than theone I had had in the middle of the day for one-and-sevenpence--thefeeling that, to say the least of it, I was in an equivocal position,began to chasten. Instead, I began to feel, as the schoolboys have it,that I was in for a lark. That I really was going to hear, eitherthrough Messrs. Cleaver and Caxton, or through anybody else, ofsomething to my advantage, I never for a moment believed. I was anorphan. I had what I take it are the best of reasons for knowing Ihave not a single living relative. I have no friends: I never had. Iwas, at my mother's death, employed in an office from which I wasshortly after ignominiously ejected, owing to a difference of opinionI was so unfortunate as to have with the senior clerk. I had spent mysubstance, such as it was, and twelve months, in seeking for otheroccupation.

  My story was a prosaic and a sordid one. That I could hear ofsomething to my advantage, from any source whatever, was an idea Iutterly scouted.

  I dined alone. The waiter informed me that, for the moment, I was theonly visitor in the house. No doubt, under those circumstances, I waswelcome. This waiter was a man with iron-grey hair and a pair ofcuriously big, black eyes; I noticed them as he flitted about theroom, but I had much better reason to notice them a little later on.As I rose from the table I gave outspoken utterance to words whichwere a sort of tag to the sequence of my thoughts--

  "Well, James Southam," I exclaimed, "you're in for it at last."

  This I said out loud, foolishly, no doubt. The waiter was movingtowards the door. He had some plates in his hand; as I spoke, hedropped these plates. They smashed to pieces on the floor. He turnedto me as if he turned on a pivot. The fashion of his countenancechanged; he glared at me as if I or he had suddenly gone mad. Thepupils of his eyes dilated--it was then I realised what curious eyesthey were.

  "Who the devil are you?" he cried. "How do you know my name's JamesSoutham?"

  I do not know how it was, but a splash of inspiration seemed all atonce to come to me--I do not know from where.

  "You are James Southam," I said; "at one time of Dulborough."

  I could plainly see that the man was trembling, either with fear orwith rage, and it struck me that it was with a mixture of both.

  "What has that to do with you?" he gasped.

  "It has this to do with me--that I want you."

  An empty beer-bottle was on the table. With the rapidity of somefrantic wild animal, rushing forward he caught this bottle by theneck, and, before I had realised his intention, he struck me with iton the head. He was a smaller man than I, but, when next I began totake an interest in the things of this world, I was lying on thefloor, and the room was empty. My namesake, all the evidence went toshow, had felled me like a log, and, without any sort of ceremony, hadleft me where I fell.

  I sat up on the floor, I put my hand to my head. It ached so badlythat I could scarcely see out of my eyes. With some difficulty Isprang to my feet. On attaining a more or less upright position Ibecame conscious that the trepidation of my legs inclined me inanother direction.

  "If this," I told myself, "is hearing of something to my advantage,I've heard enough."

  As I endeavoured to obtain support by leaning against the mantelpiecethe room door opened, and the tall, thin woman, whom I had been toldwas Mrs. Barnes, came in.

  "I beg your pardon," she began. She looked round the room, then shelooked at me. So far as I could judge in the then state of myfaculties, she appeared surprised. "I thought the waiter was here."

  "He was here."

  "How long has he been gone?"

  "Some minutes."

  "It is very odd! I have been looking for him everywhere. I thoughtthat he was still upstairs with you." She glanced at the ruinedcrockery. "What has happened?--who has broken the plates?"

  "The waiter--he dropped them. He also dropped the bottle."

  I did not explain that he had dropped the latter on my head, andalmost broken it into as many pieces as the plates.

  "It is very careless of him. I must see where he is."

  I fancied, from the expression of her face, that she perceived thatthere was more in the matter than met the eye. But, if so, she did notgive audible expression to her perceptions. She left the room, and,when she had gone, I also left the room, and went to bed. I realisedthat the complications, and, if I may be permitted to say so, theramifications of the situation, were for the moment beyond my grasp.In the morning I might be able to look the position fairly in theface, but, just then--no! I hastened to put myself between the sheets.Scarcely was I between them than I fell asleep.

  I was awakened, as it seemed to me, just after I had fallen asleep, bysome one knocking at the bedroom door. The knocking must have startledme out of a dreamless slumber, because it was a moment or two before Icould remember where I was. Then I understood that some one wasendeavouring to attract my attention from without.

  "Who's there?" I said.

  "It is I, Mrs. Barnes, the landlady. I wish to speak to you."

  "What, now? What time is it? Won't the morning do?

  "No, I must speak to you at once."

  It seemed that, in my hurry to get into bed, I had forgotten to putthe gas out. Slipping into some garments I opened the door. Therestood Mrs. Barnes, with a lighted candle in her hand. For some causeor other she was in a state of unmistakable uneasiness. She lookedwhite and haggard.

  "I cannot find the waiter," she said.

  "You cannot find the waiter!" I stared. "I am sorry to hear it, if youwant to find him. But may I ask what that has to do with me?"

  "I believe it has a good deal to do with you. What took place betweenyou in the coffee-room?"

  "Really, I am not aware that anything took place between us in thecoffee-room that was of interest to you."

  She came a step forward. Raising the lighted candle, she almost thrustit in my face. She stared at me with strained and eager eyes. Sheseemed to see something in my face: though what there was to see,except bewilderment, was more than I could guess.

  "I don't believe you. You are deceiving me. Did you quarrel with him?Who are you? Tell me! I have a right to know--I am his wife!"

  "His wife!" Complications seemed to be increasing. "I thought yourname was Barnes."

  "So is his name Barnes. What has happened? What do you know about him?Tell me."

  "What do I know about him? I know nothing. So far as I am aware, Inever saw the man in my life before."

  "I don't believe you--you are lying! Where has he gone, and why? Youshall tell me--I'll make you!"

  She forced her way into the room; in doing so she forced me back. Whenshe was in, she shut the door and stood with her back to it. Her voicehad risen to a scream. Her manner almost threatened personal violence.I felt that the hotel to which I had been introduced was conducted onlines with which I had not been hitherto familiar.

  "If, as you say, and as I have no reason to doubt, this person is yourhusband, and he has really disappeared, I can understand that yourexcitement is not unjustified; but you are mistaken if you supposethat I am in any way to blame. I will tell you exactly what happenedbetween us." I turned aside so that I might have some sort of chanceof making up my mind as to how much, on the spur of the moment, itmight be advisable to tell her. "Your husband waited on me at dinner.During dinner we scarcely exchanged half a dozen words. After dinner Isaid something which, although it was spoken out loud, was said tomyself, but which affected him in the most extraordinary andunexpected manner."

  "What did you say?"

  "I said 'I want you.'"

  "You said, 'I want you'?" The woman gave a sort of nervous clutch atthe door behind her. "Are you a policeman?"

  "I am nothing of the kind. You ought to know better than I what yourhusband has on his conscience. I can only suppose that, for somecause, he stands in terror of the officers of the law; because, nosooner had I innocently uttered
what, I believe, is a regularpoliceman's formula, than, without a word of warning, he caught up theempty bottle which was on the table, like a madman, and knocked medown with it."

  "Knocked you down with it!" The woman's face was as white as her ownsheets. I saw that she needed the support of the door to aid herstand. "You said nothing to me when I came in."

  "I was so astounded by the man's behaviour, and so stunned by hisviolence, that I was not in a fit state for saying anything. Iintended to wait till the morning, and then have it out both with youand with him."

  "You are telling me the truth?"

  "I am."

  So I was, though I might not have been telling all of it. I appearedto have told enough of it for her, because immediately afterwards shedeparted--unless I err, not much easier in her mind because of thevisit she had paid to me.

  In the morning, as might have been expected, I woke with a headache. Idid not feel in the best of health, either physical or mental, when Iwent down to breakfast. That meal was served by a maidservant.Bringing in a letter on a waiter, she asked if it was for me. As itwas addressed to me by name--"Mr. James Southam "--I not only claimed,I opened it. It contained a letter and some enclosures. Here is theletter, word for word:--

  "Dear Sir,--I have just had a telegram from Messrs. Cleaver andCaxton, acquainting me with your address. It gives me great pleasureto write to you. I am just now detained by business, but I hope tocall on you at the very earliest opportunity, at latest in the courseof a day or two. I assure you that it will be greatly to youradvantage. As some slight guarantee of this I beg your acceptance ofthe enclosed. You need have no fear. You will find in me, in allrespects, a friend.

  "I will let you know, by telegram, when I am coming. Until then,

  "Believe me, your sincere well-wisher,

  "DUNCAN ROTHWELL."

  The "enclosed" took the shape of four five-pound bank-notes. Who"Duncan Rothwell" was I had not the faintest notion. To me the namewas wholly unfamiliar. The letter was neither addressed nor dated. Thepost-mark on the envelope was Manchester. Messrs. Cleaver and Caxtonmust have telegraphed so soon as I had left them, and clearly Mr.Rothwell had written immediately on receipt of their wire. The letterwas fairly worded, but something about the writing, and indeed aboutthe whole get up of the thing, suggested that it had not been writtenby a highly educated man--a gentleman.

  In any case it seemed sufficiently clear that it was not intended forme, until, fingering the thing, and turning it over and over, Ichanced to open the sheet of paper on which it was written. It was alarge sheet of business letter-paper. The communication was allcontained on the front page, and as there was still plenty of room tospare, it did not occur to me that there could be additions, say, forinstance, in the shape of a postscript. It was by the purest chancethat my fidgety fingers pulled the sheet wide open. So soon as theyhad done so I perceived that I was wrong. In the middle of the thirdpage was this:--

  "P.S.--It was with great regret that I heard of your mother's lamenteddeath at Putney. I had the melancholy satisfaction of visiting hergrave in Wandsworth Cemetery. This will facilitate matters greatly."

  Then the letter was intended for me after all. My mother had died atPutney--she had been buried in Wandsworth Cemetery. There might,although I had not been aware of it, have been two James Southams inDulborough; the coincidence was credible. But it was scarcely crediblethat the other James Southam's mother could also have died at Putney,and have been buried in Wandsworth Cemetery. Why, or in what sense, mymother's death might facilitate matters, was more than I could say.But, in the face of that postscript, there still seemed sufficientdoubt as to which James Southam was about to hear of something to hisadvantage, to justify me in remaining where I was, and allowing eventsto take their course.

  As I was standing at the window, meditating whether or not I should gofor a stroll, the maidservant appeared with a message.

  "Mrs. Barnes's compliments, and if you are at liberty, could she speakto you in the private parlour?"

  I was not anxious to see Mrs. Barnes. I had a suspicion that if I wasnot careful I might become more involved than was desirable in herprivate affairs. Still, if I remained in her house I could scarcelyavoid speaking to her. My impulse was to go to Messrs. Cleaver andCaxton, and ask them to shift my quarters. But they might decline,and--well, I shrugged my shoulders, and went and spoke to her.

  The private parlour proved to be a small room, and a stuffy one. Mrs.Barnes received me on the threshold. She opened the door to permit meto enter, and having followed me in she shut it behind us.

  "He has not returned," she said.

  "You mean----?"

  "I mean my husband."

  "Frankly, I think it is almost as well that he should not havereturned--at least, while I remain an inmate of your house. You canscarcely expect me to pass over his extraordinary behaviour insilence."

  She stood staring at me in that strained, eager manner which I hadnoticed overnight. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her fingerswere twisting and untwisting themselves in what seemed purenervousness.

  "I have been married to Mr. Barnes twelve months." As she paused, Inodded--I did not know what else to do. "I have regretted it eversince. There is a mystery about him."

  "I am bound to admit that there is a good deal about him which ismysterious to me; but whether it is equally mysterious to you isanother question."

  "He is a mystery to me--he always has been." She paused again. Shedrew in her lips as if to moisten them. "You are a stranger to me, butI want a confidant. I must speak to some one."

  "I beg that you will not make a confidant of me--I do assure you----"

  As she interrupted me, her voice rose almost to a scream.

  "I must speak to you--I will! I can endure no longer. Sit down and letme speak to you."

  Perceiving that, unless I made a scene, I should have to let her atleast say something, I did as she requested and sat down. I wishedthat she would sit down also, instead of standing in front of thedoor, twisting her hands and her body, and pulling faces--for only socan I describe what seemed to be the nervous spasms which werecontinually causing her to distort her attenuated countenance.

  "I never wished to marry him," she began. "He made me."

  "I suppose you mean that he made you in the sense in which all ladies,when their time comes, are made to marry."

  "No, I don't. I never wanted to marry him--never. He was almost asgreat a stranger to me as you are. Why should I marry a perfectstranger, without a penny to his name--me, who had been a singlewoman, and content to be a single woman, for nearly forty years?"--Icould not tell her; I am sure I had no notion.--"This house belongs tome; It was my mother's house before me. He came in one day and askedme if I wanted a waiter--came in with hardly a shoe to his foot. Itwas like his impudence! I did not want a waiter, and I told him so;but he mesmerised me, and made me have him!"

  "Mesmerised you, Mrs. Barnes! You are joking!"

  "I'm not joking." To do her justice any one who looked less likejoking I never saw. "I've always been a nervous sort of a body.Directly he saw me he could do anything he liked with me. He wasalways mesmerising me. In less than a month he had mesmerised me intomarrying him. As soon as we were married I began to think that he wasmad!"--In that case, I told myself, that most promising couple musthave been something very like a pair!--"He was always asking me if Iwould like to sell myself to the devil. He used to say that he wouldarrange it for me if I wanted. Then he used to dream out loud--suchdreams! Night after night I've lain and listened to him, frightenedhalf out of my wits. Then he took to walking in his sleep. The onlything he brought into the place was a little wooden box, tied up in apocket-handkerchief. I never could make out what was in this box. Oncewhen I asked him I thought he would have killed me. One night, in themiddle of a dream, he got out of bed and went downstairs. Although Iwas so frightened that my knees were knocking together, I went afterhim. He came in here. This box of his was in that
bureau--it's in thatbureau now." She pointed to a tall, old-fashioned bureau which wasjust behind my chair. "He kept muttering to himself all the time; Icould not catch all that he said, he spoke so low, but he repeatedover and over again something about the devil. He took this box of hisout of the bureau. He did something to it with his hands. What he didI don't know. I suppose there was a secret spring about it, orsomething. But though I've tried to make it out over and over againsince then, I've never been able to find the secret of it to this day.When he handled it the top flew open. He put the box down upon thattable; and I stood watching him in the open doorway--just about whereI am standing now--without his having the least notion I was there. Ibelieve that, if he had known, he would have killed me."

  "Do you mean to say, while he was doing all you have described, thathe was asleep?"

  "Fast asleep."

  "You are quite sure, Mrs. Barnes, that you also were not fast asleep?"

  "Not me; I almost wish I had been. I've never had a good night's sleepfrom that hour to this. I've grown that thin, for want of it, that I'mnothing but a skeleton. As I was saying, when he had opened it he putthe box down on the table. He gave a laugh which made my blood runcold."--She struck me as being the sort of woman whose blood on veryslight provocation would run cold.--"Then he took something out of thebox. When I saw what it was I thought I should have fainted." Anervous paroxysm seemed to pass all over her; her voice dropped to awhisper: "It was a woman's finger!"

  "A woman's finger, Mrs. Barnes?"

  "It was a woman's finger. There was a wedding-ring on it: it was toosmall for the finger, so that the ring seemed to have eaten into theflesh. He stood staring at this wedding-ring."

  "What! staring! and he was fast asleep!"

  "I don't know much about sleep-walkers; he was the first I eversaw, and I hope he'll be the last. But I do know that when he wassleep-walking his eyes were wide open, and he used to stare at thingswhich, I suppose, he wanted to see, in a way which was horrible tolook at. It was like that he stared at this wedding-ring. Then hesaid, right out loud: 'I'll cut you off one of these fine days, andsee how you look upon my finger.' Then he put the finger down on thetable, and out of the box he took three other fingers and a thumb."

  "You are quite sure they were real, genuine, human fingers, Mrs.Barnes?"

  "I know fingers when I see them, I suppose. You hear me out. He placedthem on the table, nails uppermost, close together, just as thefingers are upon your own hand. He spoke to them. 'You'll never playany more of your devil's tricks with me that's a certainty!' he said.And he leered and grinned and chuckled more like a demon than a man.Then he took something out of the box, wrapped in a piece of calico. Isaw that on the calico there were stains of blood. Out of it he tookthe palm of a woman's hand. Raising it to his lips, he kissed it,looking like the perfect devil that he was. He put it down palmdownwards on the table, and he did something to the fingers.Then"--Mrs. Barnes gave utterance to a gasping sound, which it did notdo one good to hear--"he picked it up, and I saw that by some devil'strickery he had joined the separate parts together, and made it lookas if it were a perfect hand."

  She stopped. I do not mind owning that if I had had my way, she wouldhave stopped for good. Unfortunately I did not see my way to compelher to leave her tale unfinished.

  "I suppose that at that dreadful sight I must have fainted, becausethe next thing I can remember is finding myself lying on the floor andthe room all dark. For some time I dared scarcely breathe, far lessmove; I did not know where my husband might be. How I summoned upcourage to enable me to creep upstairs, to this hour I do not know.When I did I found my husband fast asleep in bed."

  "You really must excuse my asking, Mrs. Barnes, but do you happen torecollect what you ate for supper that night, and are you in the habitof suffering from nightmare?"

  "Nightmare! That was the first time I watched him. I have watched himover and over again since then. I soon found out that regularly everyFriday night he walked in his sleep, and went downstairs, and gloatedover that dreadful hand."

  "You say that he did this every Friday. Are you suggesting that withhim Friday was some sort of anniversary?"

  "I don't know. What was I to think? What was any one to think? Don'tlaugh at me--don't! You think I am a fool, or lying. You shall see thehand for yourself, and tell me what you make of it. I will show ityou, if I have to break his box open with a hammer."

  In a state of considerable and evident excitement, she crossed theroom. I rose to enable her to approach the bureau. She took a smallcanvas bag out of the pocket of her dress. Out of this bag she tooksome keys.

  "He has my keys. He made me give him them. He never knew that I hadduplicates. But I always have had. He seldom went outside the frontdoor; I think he was afraid of being seen in the streets. Whenever hedid go I used to lock myself in here, and try to find the spring whichopened the box. I had an idea that there might be something in itwhich I had not seen. I will open it now, if I have to smash it intosplinters."

  She let down the flap of the bureau. Within there were nests ofdrawers, and one small centre cupboard. This cupboard she unlocked.When she had done so, she gave a stifled exclamation. "It has gone!"she said.

  I stooped beside her. "What has gone?"

  She turned to me a face which was ghastly in its revelation of abjectterror. Her voice had suddenly degenerated into a sort of pantinghiss.

  "The box! It was here last night. After he had gone I unlocked thebureau, and I looked, and saw it was there." She caught me by the arm,she gripped me with a strength of which, in her normal condition, Ishould imagine her incapable. "He must have come back like a thief inthe night and taken it. He may be hidden somewhere in the house thismoment. Oh, my God!"