Complete Works of Bram Stoker

by Bram Stoker

  For myself I was almost overcome. The definite fixing of the hour seemed like the voice of Doom. When I think of it now, I can realize how a condemned man feels at his sentence, or at the last sounding of the hour he is to hear.

  There could be no going back now! We were in the hands of God!

  The hands of God...! And yet...! What other forces were arrayed? ... What would become of us all, poor atoms of earthly dust whirled in the wind which cometh whence and goeth whither no man may know. It was not for myself...! Margaret...!

  I was recalled by Mr. Trelawny’s firm voice:

  ‘Now we shall see to the lamps and finish our preparations.’ Accordingly we set to work, and under his supervision made ready the Egyptian lamps, seeing that they were well filled with the cedar oil, and that the wicks were adjusted and in good order. We lighted and tested them one by one, and left them ready so that they would light at once and evenly. When this was done we had a general look round; and fixed all in readiness for our work at night.

  All this had taken time, and we were I think all surprised when as we emerged from the cave we heard the great clock in the hall chime four.

  We had a late lunch, a thing possible without trouble in the present state of our commissariat arrangements. After it, by Mr. Trelawny’s advice, we separated; each to prepare in our own way for the strain of the coming night. Margaret looked pale and somewhat overwrought, so I advised her to lie down and try to sleep. She promised that she would. The abstraction which had been upon her fitfully all day lifted for the time; with all her old sweetness and loving delicacy she kissed me goodbye for the present! With the sense of happiness which this gave me I went out for a walk on the cliffs. I did not want to think; and I had an instinctive feeling that fresh air and God’s sunlight, and the myriad beauties of the works of His hand would be the best preparation of fortitude for what was to come... When I got back, all the party were assembling for a late tea. Coming fresh from the exhilaration of nature, it struck me as almost comic that we, who were nearing the end of so strange — almost monstrous — an undertaking, should be yet bound by the needs and habits of our lives.

  All the men of the party were grave; the time of seclusion, even if it had given them rest, had also given opportunity for thought. Margaret was bright, almost buoyant; but I missed about her something of her usual spontaneity. Towards myself there was a shadowy air of reserve, which brought back something of my suspicion. When tea was over, she went out of the room; but returned in a minute with the roll of drawing which she had taken with her earlier in the day. Coming close to Mr. Trelawny, she said:

  ‘Father, I have been carefully considering what you said today about the hidden meaning of those suns and hearts and “Kas”, and I have been examining the drawings again.’

  ‘And with what result, my child?’ asked Mr. Trelawny eagerly.

  ‘There is another reading possible!’

  ‘And that?’ His voice was now tremulous with anxiety. Margaret spoke with a strange ring in her voice; a ring that cannot be unless there is the consciousness of truth behind it:

  ‘It means that at the sunset the “Ka” is to enter the “Ab”; and it is only at the sunrise that it will leave it!’

  ‘Go on!’ said her father hoarsely. ‘It means that for this night the Queen’s Double, which is otherwise free, will remain in her heart, which is mortal and cannot leave its prison-place in the mummy shrouding. It means that when the sun has dropped into the sea, Queen Tera will cease to exist as a conscious power, till sunrise; unless the Great Experiment can recall her to waking life. It means that there will be nothing whatever for you or others to fear from her in such way as we have all cause to remember. Whatever change may come from the working of the Great Experiment, there can come none from the poor, helpless, dead woman who has waited all those centuries for this night; who has given up to the coming hour all the freedom of eternity, won in the old way, in hope of a new life in a new world such as she longed for...!’ She stopped suddenly. As she had gone on speaking there had come with her words a strange pathetic, almost pleading, tone which touched me to the quick. As she stopped, I could see, before she turned away her head, that her eyes were full of tears.

  For once the heart of her father did not respond to her feeling. He looked exultant, but with a grim masterfulness which reminded me of the set look of his stern face as he had lain in the trance. He did not offer any consolation to his daughter in her sympathetic pain. He only said:

  ‘We may test the accuracy of your surmise, and of her feeling, when the time comes!’ Having said so, he went up the stone stairway and into his own room. Margaret’s face had a troubled look as she gazed after him.

  Strangely enough her trouble did not as usual touch me to the quick. When Mr. Trelawny had gone, silence reigned. I do not think that any of us wanted to talk Presently Margaret went to her room, and I went out on the terrace over the sea. The fresh air and the beauty of all before me helped to restore the good spirits which I had known earlier in the day. Presently I felt myself actually rejoicing in the belief that the danger which I had feared from the Queen’s violence on the coming night was obviated. I believed in Margaret’s belief so thoroughly that it did not occur to me to dispute her reasoning. In a lofty frame of mind, and with less anxiety than I had felt for days, I went to my room and lay down on the sofa.

  I was awaked by Corbeck calling to me, hurriedly:

  ‘Come down to the cave as quickly as you can. Mr. Trelawny wants to see us all there at once. Hurry!’

  I jumped up and ran down to the cave. All were there except Margaret, who came immediately after me carrying Silvio in her arms. When the cat saw his old enemy he struggled to get down; but Margaret held him fast and soothed him. I looked at my watch. It was close to eight.

  When Margaret was with us her father said directly, with a quiet insistence which was new to me:

  ‘You believe, Margaret, that Queen Tera has voluntarily undertaken to give up her freedom for this night? To become a mummy and nothing more, till the Experiment has been completed? To be content that she shall be powerless under all and any circumstances until after all is over and the act of resurrection has been accomplished, or the effort has failed?’ After a pause Margaret answered in a low voice:

  ‘Yes!

  In the pause her whole being, appearance, expression, voice, manner had changed. Even Silvio noticed it, and with a violent effort wriggled away from her arms; she did not seem to notice the act. I expected that the cat, when he had achieved his freedom, would have attacked the mummy; but on this occasion he did not. He seemed too cowed to approach it. He shrunk away, and with a piteous ‘miaou’ came over and rubbed himself against my ankles. I took him up in my arms, and he nestled there content Mr. Trelawny spoke again:

  ‘You are sure of what you say! You believe it with all your soul?’ Margaret’s face had lost the abstracted look; it now seemed illuminated with the devotion of one to whom is given to speak of great things. She answered in a voice which, though quiet, vibrated with conviction:

  ‘I know it! My knowledge is beyond belief!’ Mr. Trelawny spoke again.

  ‘Then you are so sure, that were you Queen Tera herself, you would be willing to prove it in any way that I might suggest?’

  ‘Yes, any way!’ the answer rang out fearlessly. He spoke again, in a voice in which was no note of doubt:

  ‘Even in the abandonment of your Familiar to death — to annihilation.’

  She paused, and I could see that she suffered — suffered horribly. There was in her eyes a haunted look, which no man can, unmoved, ace in the eyes of his beloved. I was about to interrupt, when her father’s eyes, glancing round with a fierce determination, met mine. I stood silent, almost spellbound; so also the other men. Something was going on before us which we did not understand!

  With a few long strides Mr. Trelawny went to the west side of the cave and tore back the shutter which obscured the window. The cool air blew in, and the su
nlight streamed over them both, for Margaret was now by his side. He pointed to where the sun was sinking into the sea in a halo of golden fire, and his face was as set as flint. In a voice whose absolute uncompromising hardness I shall hear in my ears at times till my dying day; he said:

  ‘Choose! Speak! When the sun has dipped below the sea, it will be too late!’ The glory of the dying sun seemed to light up Margaret’s face, till it shone as if lit from within by a noble light, as she answered:

  ‘Even that!’

  Then stepping over to where the mummy cat stood on the little table, she placed her hand on it. She had now left the sunlight, and the shadows looked dark and deep over her. In a clear voice she said:

  ‘Were I Tera, I would say “Take all I have! This night is for the Gods alone!” ‘

  As she spoke the sun dipped, and the cold shadow suddenly fell on us. We all stood still for a while. Silvio jumped from my arms and ran over to his mistress, rearing himself up against her dress as if asking to be lifted. He took no notice whatever of the mummy now.

  Margaret was glorious with all her wonted sweetness as she said sadly:

  ‘The sun is down, Father! Shall any of us see it again? The night of nights is come!’

  Chapter XX. The Great Experiment

  IF ANY EVIDENCE HAD BEEN WANTED OF HOW Absolutely one and all of us had come to believe in the spiritual existence of the Egyptian Queen, it would have been found in the change which in a few minutes had been effected in us by the statement of voluntary negation made, we all believed, through Margaret. Despite the coming of the fearful ordeal, the sense of which it was impossible to forget, we looked and acted as though a great relief had come to us. We had indeed lived in such a state of terrorism during the days when Mr. Trelawny was lying in a trance that the feeling had bitten deeply into us. No one knows till he has experienced it, what it is to be in constant dread of some unknown danger which may come at any time and in any form.

  The change was manifested in different ways, according to each nature. Margaret was sad. Doctor Winchester was in high spirits, and keenly observant; the process of thought which had served as an antidote to fear, being now relieved from this duty, added to his intellectual enthusiasm. Mr. Corbeck seemed to be in a retrospective rather than a speculative mood. I was myself rather inclined to be gay: the relief from certain anxiety regarding Margaret was sufficient for me for the time.

  As to Mr. Trelawny he seemed less changed than any. Perhaps this was only natural, as he had had in his mind the intention for so many years of doing that in which we were tonight engaged, that any event connected with it could only seem to him as an episode, a step to the end. His was that commanding nature which looks so to the end of an undertaking that all else is of secondary importance. Even now, though his terrible sternness relaxed under the relief from the strain, he never flagged nor faltered for a moment in his purpose. He asked us men to come with him; and going to the hall we presently managed to lower into the cave an oak table, fairly long and not too wide, which stood against the wall in the hall. This we placed under the strong cluster of electric lights in the middle of the cave. Margaret looked on for a while; then all at once her face blanched, and in an agitated voice she said:

  ‘What are you going to do, Father?”

  To unroll the mummy of the cat! Queen Tera will not need her Familiar tonight. If she should want him, it might be dangerous to us; so we shall make him safe. You are not alarmed, dear?’

  ‘Oh no!’ she answered quickly. ‘But I was thinking of my Silvio, and how I should feel if he had been the mummy that was to be unswathed!’

  Mr. Trelawny got knives and scissors ready, and placed the cat on the table. It was a grim beginning to our work; and it made my heart sink when I thought of what might happen in that lonely house in the mid-gloom of the night. The sense of loneliness and isolation from the world was increased by the moaning of the wind which had now risen ominously, and by the beating of waves on the rocks below. But we had too grave a task before us to be swayed by external manifestations: the unrolling of the mummy began.

  There was an incredible number of bandages; and the tearing sound — they being stuck fast to each other by bitumen and gums and spices — and the little cloud of red pungent dust that arose, pressed on the senses of all of us. As the last wrappings came away we saw the animal seated before us. He was all hunkered up; his hair and teeth and claws were complete. The eyes were closed, but the eyelids had not the fierce look which I expected. The whiskers had been pressed down on the side of the face by the bandaging; but when the pressure was taken away they stood out, just as they would have done in life. He was a magnificent creature, a tiger-cat of great size. But as we looked at him, our first glance of admiration changed to one of fear, and a shudder ran through each one of us; for here was a confirmation of the fears which we had endured.

  His mouth and his claws were smeared with the dry, red stains of recent blood!

  Doctor Winchester was the first to recover; blood in itself had small disturbing quality for him. He had taken out his magnifying-glass and was examining the stains on the cat’s mouth. Mr. Trelawny breathed loudly, as though a strain had been taken from him.

  ‘It is as I expected,’ he said. “This “promises well for what is to follow.’

  By this time Doctor Winchester was looking at the red stained paws. ‘As I expected!’ he said. ‘He has seven claws, too!’ Opening his pocketbook, he took out the piece of blotting-paper marked by Silvio’s claws, on which was also marked in pencil a diagram of the cuts made on Mr. Trelawny’s wrist. He placed the paper under the mummy cat’s paw. The marks fitted exactly.

  When we had carefully examined the cat, finding, however, nothing strange about it but its wonderful preservation, Mr. Trelawny lifted it from the table. Margaret started forward, crying out:

  ‘Take care, Father! Take care! He may injure you!’

  ‘Not now, my dear!’ he answered as he moved towards the stairway. Her face fell. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked in a faint voice.

  ‘To the kitchen,’ he answered. Tire will take away all danger for the future; even an astral body cannot materialize from ashes!’ He signed to us to follow him. Margaret turned away with a sob. I went to her; but she motioned me back and whispered:

  ‘No, no! Go with the others. Father may want you. Oh! it seems like murder! The poor Queen’s pet...!’ The tears were dropping from under the fingers that covered her eyes.

  In the kitchen was a fire of wood ready laid. To this Mr. Trelawny applied a match; in a few seconds the kindling had caught and the flames leaped. When the fire was solidly ablaze, he threw the body of the cat into it. For a few seconds it lay a dark mass amidst the flames, and the room was rank with the smell of burning hair. Then the dry body caught fire too. The inflammable substances used in embalming became new fuel, and the flames roared. A few minutes of fierce conflagration; and then we breathed freely. Queen Tera’s Familiar was no more!

  When we went back to the cave we found Margaret sitting in the dark. She had switched off the electric light, and only a faint glow of the evening light came through the narrow openings. Her father went quickly over to her and put his arms round her in a loving protective way. She laid her head on his shoulder for a minute, and seemed comforted. Presently she called to me:

  ‘Malcolm, turn up the light!’ I carried out her orders, and could see that, though she had been crying, her eyes were now dry. Her father saw it too and looked glad. He said to us in a grave tone:

  ‘Now we had better prepare for our great work. It will not do to leave anything to the last!’ Margaret must have had a suspicion of what was coming, for it was with a sinking voice that she asked:

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ Mr. Trelawny too must have had a suspicion of her feelings, for he answered in a low tone:

  ‘To unroll the mummy of Queen Tera!’ She came close to him and said pleadingly in a whisper:

  ‘Father, you are not going to
unswathe her! All you men...! And in the glare of light!’

  ‘But why not, my dear?’

  ‘Just think, Father, a woman! All alone! In such a way! In such a place! Oh! It’s cruel, cruel!’ She was manifestly much overcome. Her cheeks were flaming red, and her eyes were full of indignant tears. Her father saw her distress; and, sympathizing with it, began to comfort her. I was moving off; but he signed to me to stay. I took it that after the usual manner of men he wanted help on such an occasion, and manlike wished to throw on someone else the task of dealing with a woman in indignant distress. However, he began to appeal first to her reason:

  ‘Not a woman, dear; a mummy! She has been dead nearly five thousand years!’

  ‘What does that matter? Sex is not a matter of years! A woman is a woman, if she had been dead five thousand centuries! And you expect her to arise out of that long sleep! It could not be real death, if she is to rise out of it! You have led me to believe that she will come alive when the Coffer is opened!’

  ‘I did, my dear, and I believe it! But if it isn’t death that has been the matter with her all these years, it is something uncommonly like it. Then again, just think; it was men who embalmed her. They didn’t have women’s rights or lady doctors in ancient Egypt, my dear! And besides,’ he went on more freely, seeing that she was accepting his argument, if not yielding to it, ‘we men are accustomed to such things. Corbeck and I have unrolled a hundred mummies; and there were as many women as men amongst them. Doctor Winchester in his work has had to deal with women as well as men, till custom has made him think nothing of sex. Even Ross has in his work as a barrister...’ He stopped suddenly.

  ‘You were going to help, too!’ she said to me, with an indignant look.

  I said nothing; I thought silence was best. Mr. Trelawny went on hurriedly; I could see that he was glad of interruption, for the part of his argument concerning a barrister’s work was becoming decidedly weak: