The Door of the Unreal

by Gerald Biss

  “Right-oh, Miss Clymping,” he laughed. “Harry’s the lad with the bedside manner—sort of Sir Humphrey Bedell at 6st. 7lb.”

  After lunch Verjoyce saw the invalid for a few minutes, and announced that he had “bucked him up no end”; and Bullingdon certainly seemed easier and better for having seen his two old “pals” and having broken the ice about Miss St. Chair’s death.

  When he came downstairs, Blenkinsopp, Manders, and the two youngsters went out, according to programme, and brought off a very successful raid upon the Dower House, meeting Dorothy by luck in the woods, and boldly asking her permission to walk through the grounds and look at the house, of which they had heard so much.

  “We won’t go in or think you rude if you don’t ask us,” said Manders, making it easier for her; “so we shan’t interrupt the Professor’s working fever or make ourselves in any way a nuisance. Architecture is quite a hobby of mine.”

  And for nearly half an hour they dawdled round both the back and the front of the old Tudor house, ostensibly listening to a lecture upon stone mullions and the phases of the Tudor period from Manders, whilst in reality they were studying the ground, and each one marking down accurately his position. And Blenkinsopp reported afterwards that he had never reconnoitred more successfully under the unsuspecting nose of the enemy, though the dour face of old Anna followed them round with morbid suspicion, first appearing at one window and then at another— grim and ghoulish.

  “All’s fair in love and war,” said Manders in a little aside to me; “and, if I be not in error, this is a case of both.”

  I nodded.

  “It is indeed,” I said with the fervour of conviction—“to the very death.”

  Burgess had meanwhile been closeted in his own room with Hedges and Jevons, while Ann had taken me out for a walk round the other side of the estate—manoeuvred by myself—for the good of my digestion, as she said, alleging that I had been eating too much and taking no exercise. Perhaps she was right. I had not had much time; and I am not a crank or a lover of what people call exercise simply for the sake of exercise. It is too much like an out-of-doors imposition, to my mental point of view. To some folk it has become a positive fetish or a form of self-immolation in this age of extremes from vice to virtue.

  And so the hours sped on with the surface smooth and sparkling, the spring sunshine lending atmosphere and brightness, underneath which lay unutterable things ready and waiting to boil over at that psychological moment—to use Ann’s much-derided phrase—which I hoped, with no small assurance, we had marked down to a nicety by the signs and portents at the disposal of our intelligence.

  X

  That night at ten o’clock, after a cheerful enough gathering for tea in the hall, with “snooker” afterwards till dressing-time, and then a most excellent dinner, we got to grips again with the impending horror in the library, dropping our everyday mask, so necessary before Ann and the rest of the household.

  This time the party was bigger, with Boodle, Hedges, and Jevons added, standing to attention near the door with crude solemnity.

  “Please sit down,” said Burgess, pointing to chairs already set for them, “and remember that here to-night we are face to face with elemental facts, and each of us is a man and an individual. Circumstances make us all alike and equal; and the truest democracy of all is the realization of mutual respect and confidence. If anyone wishes to withdraw, now is the moment. We can all trust his silence and his honour; and I would be the last to wish to drag anyone into this ghastly business for my own or anybody else’s sake.”

  Nobody spoke; and the men took their seats.

  Then, after a slight pause, Jevons jerked out the obvious truth as though be could not help it “You know, sir, Hedges and I would follow you to hell.”

  It was crude and primitive, but struck the right note.

  It’s practically what it amounts to, old friend,” said Burgess, with a grateful glance down the table at his two friends, though servants by circumstance.

  To Boodle, who maintained a respectful official silence, it was all in the day’s business.

  And then we took the oath of secrecy—a mere formality, I felt, in such a loyal company of white men: and we laid our hands, one and all, upon the great Clymping family Bible, a great tome of priceless value—for in it, apart from its intrinsic value as a masterpiece of early printing, are there not written the names and the generations of the House of Clymping, as they say in Holy Writ of other genealogical trees?—and we swore as man to man before God as our witness, that never would we for our own purposes, or unless compelled by our duty as honest men and citizens of Great Britain and its first cousin, America, reveal any part of these happenings in which we were or were to be personally and directly concerned—past, present, and future.

  And then Burgess, a great man that night and in command, captain of his own soul and, maybe, of others, rising to the occasion, lifted the great book off the centre of the table and, replacing it in its case upon its own special masterpiece of Chippendale sacred to it, said in a wonderfully inspiring voice: “Never has the House of Clymping been so honoured as to-night by the great loyalty of God-fearing men.”

  And every heart in the room responded, feeling that he had set the seal upon the oath.

  And then we worked out with care and scrupulosity the plans I had drawn up in conjunction with Blenkinsopp, until each man knew precisely what was expected of him individually, his moves in the forthcoming gambit of life and death, not merely of bodies, but of human souls, and his part in the inexorable battle against elemental evil.

  And I marvelled at the great intelligence and constancy of affection both of Jevons and of Hedges—old campaigners with their master as well as boy comrades—to say nothing of the quick grip of Boodle, the trained man: and I could not help wondering why England—Britain, if you prefer it—did not move quickly, more generally, and more generously to recognize the material to hand in modern democracy, as we do across the Atlantic.

  Some day circumstances will arise in the cycle of history: and she will—to her own eternal advantage.

  XI

  And then onwards things seemed to march rapidly, now all arrangements had been finally made and mutually agreed.

  The next morning, as soon as it was light, Wellingham and Verjoyce left, as they were due on duty at nine o’clock and had to square the leave business at the same time: and I heard Blenkinsopp tell them, if there were any trouble, to ’phone him, and he would see what he could do, as he knew their C.O. well. As a matter of fact, he fixed up in the end to go up with them in order to see his own Chief, arrange for the special men he wanted, and put the final touches upon things at headquarters: and never was Harry Verjoyce prouder than when he brought them safely back in time for tea, having “blinded” through every trap on the road, and having been rescued from the clutches of the police no less than three times by Blenkinsopp’s badge.

  Burgess and I had passed the morning, in conjunction with Hedges, with a little rifle practice, which Ann seemed to regard as a queer fad, worthy of our usual idiosyncracies—when I might have preferred the honour of driving into Crawley with her and hindering with the shopping.

  That night it was early to bed for everybody and I felt grave and oppressed as I glanced out at the moon with her circle all but perfect. What would the next twenty-four hours bring forth— for good or for evil? And again I thought of poor tortured Dorothy, pale and restless, on the unconscious eve of things too hideous to contemplate.

  XII

  I can hardly bring myself in cold blood to write of Tuesday, April 30, a day burnt deep into my memory, which I would give much to forget.

  In the morning we were all as flat as corked champagne after the first excess of gas, feeling the reaction of preparation, and loathing the compulsory inaction prior to the climax, upon which so much depended.

  I made the opportunity of a talk with both Jevons and Hedges, while Wellingham and Verjoyce spent a little while wit
h Tony Bullingdon, and gave him the latest gossip from the regiment. Blenkinsopp had a busy morning interviewing Mutton and many other policemen, including his two C.I.D. specials, and putting the last touches upon his official plans. Manders, with his usual inspiration, forced Burgess out of sheer politeness to take him over the estate. Ann, dear little Ann, played about happily at nurse, and did her best to bully the two usually irrepressible but decidedly depressed young subalterns backwards and forwards all over the place; and then she had the bad grace to vote them dull.

  The afternoon began with rifle practice, apparently casually suggested to while away the time: and I could find no fault with the shooting of either Wellingham or Verjoyce, especially the latter, who could not go wrong.

  Then, sending the lads in to tea in charge of Manders, we adjourned to the garage to superintend, in the arranged absence of Wilson, the packing of the luggage-van with petrol, the wood already having been arranged for by the ever-reliable Hedges.

  This we left in charge of Boodle and the C.I.D. men, the former to join us on the spot at ten o’clock sharp.

  Everything ready, we returned to the house; and Ann grumbled good-naturedly at our unsociability.

  “I don’t think I shall come down to dinner tonight,” she said, with one of her quaint little faces—this had already been arranged by Burgess—“as I have a bit of a headache, and the company is not very tonic or inspiring.”

  “Poor old girl,” said Burgess with more readiness of wit than usual, “don’t bother about us. I tell you what, boys, if Ann doesn’t feel up to coming down to dinner to-night, we’ll take a night off and not bother to change. What do you say?”

  It amused me, this bit of by-play for the benefit of the servants, as it was so contrary to every liking or instinct of Burgess’s conventions and habits in the ordinary way.

  “Rather,” said I, chipping in. “I’m an uncivilized Yank who prefers tweeds and plenty to your dishes of herbs where glad-rags obtain. Let’s have dinner early for once as well, may we?”

  And so it was all settled: but, as Ann, headache-less and happy in her ignorance of things, kissed me good-night, she whispered: “I’m jolly hungry all the same, Linc, you beast. Think of poor dear little Ann sent off to bed by bad Brother Burge—with half a dozen quite nice men in the house, too! Is it to protect her, poor innocent little thing? I’m sure you all have some game up.”

  I only thanked God she had no conception what sort of game it was! “You’re a darling, Ann,” I answered sympathetically. “I’ll see that there are plenty of nice things sent up to you.”

  XIII

  By half-past eight we were all gathered in the library. Dinner had been a strain on account of the presence of the servants; and we were all glad when it was over. We were all smoking hard at large cigars, which soothed us, as no smoking was the order once we started.

  I don’t think anyone of us was nervous in the accepted sense of the word, but our nerves were as taut as elastic stretched parlous near breaking-point: but I think I may say that we were all fit and ready. We were all in rough tweeds and heavy overcoats, as it was quite cold, although the day had been warm enough, and we counted upon the prospect of a considerable wait: and, in addition to our repeaters, we each carried a Browning, a flask and a powerful electric torch—with the exception of Blenkinsopp and Boodle, who, in their official capacity, would not take rifles.

  It had been arranged that either the former at the front or the latter at the back was to give the signal to fire, according to the door from which the exit was made—if any. That was almost the most anxious part of the whole business. I did not for an instant believe that my theory, now accepted without reservation by the others, could be wrong; but, if the line of action should fall out otherwise, it might land us in greater complications and deeper difficulties than ever.

  Jevons was left in charge of the house with orders to close up and see everything quiet, to lock the library door after our departure, and to be generally prepared for anything or everything—and, if necessary, to keep up the illusion that we were all in consultation behind the locked library-door. At all costs he was to avert suspicion; and Burgess and I knew that we could trust his discretion.

  “All ready?” asked Blenkinsopp quietly, as the hall-clock chimed a quarter to nine.

  We all answered in the affirmative.

  “Everyone understand his part?” he went on: “or has anyone any questions to ask? No more talking after this.”

  We all nodded. There were no questions.

  All right,” he said. “Now we will start.”

  And I will not deny that a keen thrill of anticipation went through me as we silently made our way through the long library window in single file.

  Manders, Wellingham, and Verjoyce, under the guidance of Hedges, were to make their way through the woods to the hack entrance, and to take cover amongst the trees just inside the garden near the little slip gate. Then Hedges was to work his way round the outside of the garden and join us in the front.

  Blenkinsopp, Burgess, and I were to take a wider sweep through the woods and come out in front, where Burgess and Hedges were to take cover under the wall by the gap, facing the front-door at an angle, with the moon full on the intervening ground. Blenkinsopp and I were to take up our position under the shadow of the last trees of the drive, immediately facing the old iron-studded oak door of the Dower House.

  I shall never forget that long silent walk through the oppressive blackness of the woods, but it was infinitely less trying than the longer and even more silent, motionless wait after we had once all taken up our allotted positions; and it was a great relief, before ten o’clock, to see Hedges crawl through the gap and disappear under the shadow of the wall, where we knew Burgess to be awaiting him.

  I do not think I ever remember a clearer or more lovely night outwardly, than this foul Walpurgis Nacht, with all the elemental and superphysical forces of evil out to revel in their great annual orgy of release. The moon was now full, and gave a wonderful white light; and the atmosphere was as clear as crystal.

  It was indeed hard to believe that there was evil in the world—and, above all, such evil.

  And so the time dragged on, each minute an hour, so it seemed, and the hours æons. I could hear Blenkinsopp breathing deeply by my side during these interminable minutes that grew into first one hour and then another: and I expect that I was doing the same myself.

  It was a relief when I felt his hand on my arm, and he showed me the dial of his luminous watch, indicating half-past eleven; and I nodded. And then my thoughts again turned to the youngsters on the far side of the grim old house, almost forbidding in the cold light, as though it had assumed a sinister aspect with its unconscious infection and I wondered how they were lasting out through the strain of the silent ordeal. Then my thoughts reverted to the house itself, its history amid its architectural beauty: and it seemed a strange, unnatural, almost horrible thought to think that within an hour or two—in all probability—it would be razed to the ground and reduced to a heap of ashes.

  And then, as my thoughts wandered momentarily from point to point—-it was just a quarter to twelve, Blenkinsopp told me afterwards—I felt his grip tighten upon my arm, and his breathing quicken.

  I heard it, too. It was the sound of the clanking chain behind the old oak door with its great studs of iron, which divided the atmosphere of everyday life outside from the elemental drama of evil and unreality within.

  “Ah,” breathed Blenkinsopp deeply, between his clenched teeth; and I gripped my repeater, my eyes glued fast upon the door.

  XIV

  Then came the longest wait of the lot—seven minutes only, it was by the watch, as long as seven centuries none the less—and then came another sound from the direction of the old door: and then, in the clear brightness of the moon, it was pulled slightly ajar, leaving a dark gap to the left, a sinister black fissure in the front of the old house in the full white light.

  And then…
yes, I had been right in my bizarre theory, no fantasy, after all, of an ill-balanced mind… out of this black fissure issued a great grey male wolf with the low swinging stride of his species, clearly visible in the brightness of the moonlight.

  I dropped on one knee and covered the ill-omened brute with my rifle.

  And then… I felt a constriction in my throat, and the veins on my temples knotted, as instinctively I wondered how poor old Burgess must be feeling… after the great grey male followed a smaller grey female wolf: and I knew that our worst fears were realities, and that the last crowning touch of hell’s spite had been put to this piece of devil’s work.

  Dorothy had metamorphosed.

  And in me awoke a burning desire, an intense passion to slay these foul things that had compassed it deliberately and wrought this desecration of her beautiful young body and the damnation of her pure white soul: and it nerved me as nothing else could ever have done.

  And then appeared in the wake of the other two a gaunt brown old she-wolf, most sinister of all in the moonlight, and the two older ones formed up, one on either side of the younger one, as though to guide her unaccustomed feet along the dread path of damnation; and with long low sweeping strides they swung across the garden in formation towards the gap in the hedge, the grey male, to my delight, on the offside nearest to me, half a length in front.

  Then he half-halted as though scenting danger, turning his head first to the right, and then to the left; and, as he stood in the incandescent bath of glowing moonlight, momentarily uncertain, and as splendid a target as though it had been daylight, Blenkinsopp’s whistle blew—a long, shrill blast, sounding clear through the still night.

  I drew a head on the old grey male and fired, and he dropped where he stood; and I thanked God as never before that my right hand had not lost its cunning.