The Occult Megapack
COPYRIGHT INFO
The Occult Detective Megapack is copyright © 2013 by Wildside Press LLC. Cover art copyright © Anyka / Fotolia. All rights reserved.
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“The Pot of Tulips,” by Fitz-James O’Brien, originally appeared in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 11, No. 66 (November, 1855).
“What Was It?” by Fitz-James O’Brien, originally appeared in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 18, No. 106 (March, 1859).
“The Haunted Shanty,” by Bayard Taylor, originally appeared in Atlantic Monthly (July 1861).
“Green Tea,” by J. Sheridan Le Fanu, originally appeared in All the Year Round as a 4-part serial, Oct. 23, 1869 through Nov. 13, 1869.
“Mr. Justice Harbottle,” by J. Sheridan Le Fanu, is taken from Through a Glass Darkly (1872).
“The Uninhabited House,” by Mrs. J. H. Riddell, originally appeared in Routledge’s Christmas Annual (1875).
“The Phantom Hearse,” by Mary Fortune (writing as “W.W.”), originally appeared in The Australian Journal, Sept. 1889.
“Aylmer Vance and the Vampire,” by Alice and Claude Askew, originally appeared in 1914. It was collected, along with the other stories in the series, in Aylmer Vance: Ghost-Seer.
“The Door into Infinity,” by Edmond Hamilton, originally appeared in Weird Tales, August-September 1936.
The six stories featuring Flaxman Low originally appeared in Pearson’s Magazine, 1898-1899.
“Fangs of Gold,” by Robert E. Howard, originally appeared in Strange Detective Stories, February 1934.
“The Tomb’s Secret,” by Robert E. Howard, originally appeared in Strange Detective Stories, February 1934.
“Names in the Black Book,” by Robert E. Howard, originally appeared in Strange Detective Stories, May 1934.
“Graveyard Rats,” by Robert E. Howard, originally appeared in Thrilling Mystery, February 1936.
“The Half-Haunted,” by Manly Wade Wellman, originally appeared in Weird Tales, September 1941, under the pseudonym “Gans T. Field.”
“The Jest of Warburg Tantavul,” by Seabury Quinn, originally appeared in Weird Tales, Sept. 1934.
“Pledged to the Dead,” by Seabury Quinn, originally appeared in Weird Tales, October 1937.
“Incense of Abomination” by Seabury Quinn, originally appeared in Weird Tales, March 1938.
A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER
There are probably more psychic investigators now than ever before. When I attended my first mystery convention a few years ago, I was quick shocked to discover the supernatural had invaded and, seemingly, taken over. Everywhere I looked, I found mystery series about vampires, werewolves, psychics, witches—every trapping of the horror field, in fact. Not all of them are the villains anymore, either. Many are romanticized figures portrayed as the heroes (or antiheroes). For someone raised on Ellery Queen, Agatha Christie, and Sherlock Holmes, it was quite a shock!
Occult detectives—sometimes called psychic investigators—have been in vogue since the middle of the 19th century. This collection goes back to the roots of the occult detective story. In fact, the earliest story in this collection—Fitz-James O’Brien’s “The Pot of Tulips”—originally appeared in 1855. It featured two amateur detectives dealing with a ghost. [A quick note on our text: we have compared the 1855 magazine version to later book reprints and discovered that the story had been lightly revised, usually to good effect. Our only substantive change is to restore the French phrase “en rapport” which had twice been replaced with the weaker “in accord.”] Other early stories also deal with amateur encountering, and unravelling, a supernatural mystery, such as “The Haunted Shanty,” by Bayard Taylor (published in 1861). The police aren’t immune from the occult, either. Mary Fortune, an early Australian writer (and quite a character! Look her up on Wikipedia for the shocking tale of her life) penned hundreds of stories between lockups and run-ins with the law. It’s no surprise the police and a ghostly hearse feature prominently in her 1889 story, “The Phantom Hearse.”
In the United States, the classic pulp Weird Tales championed the occult detective story. The longest-running series of stories in that magazine was none other than Seabury Quinn’s occult investigator, Jules de Grandin. And plenty of other authors featured occult detectives, too.
Another top Weird Tales author was Robert E. Howard, but toward the end of his life he had begun to publish his prolific output of stories in other magazines. Strange Detective Stories became the hope for his Steve Harrison stories, which certainly qualify for this Megapack.
Note: Some of the stories contain language which is not politically correct by today’s standards. Please remember that these stories are a product of another age and should be approached with that in mind.
In some stories, we have updated the language and spelling to more closely match modern usage (for example, “tomorrow” and “today” have replaced the archaic “to-morrow” and “to-day”) where we thought it appropriate. I trust these changes will allow you to more easily read and enjoy the works contained herein.
—John Betancourt
Publisher, Wildside Press LLC
www.wildsidepress.com
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Over the last year, our “Megapack” series of ebook anthologies has proved to be one of our most popular endeavors. (Maybe it helps that we sometimes offer them as premiums to our mailing list!) One question we keep getting asked is, “Who’s the editor?”
The Megapacks (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt, Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Bonner Menking, Colin Azariah-Kribbs, A.E. Warren, and many of Wildside’s authors…who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!).
A NOTE FOR KINDLE READERS
The Kindle versions of our Megapacks employ active tables of contents for easy navigation…please look for one before writing reviews on Amazon that complain about the lack! (They are sometimes at the ends of ebooks, depending on your reader.)
RECOMMEND A FAVORITE STORY?
Do you know a great classic science fiction story, or have a favorite author whom you believe is perfect for the Megapack series? We’d love your suggestions! You can post them on our message board at http://movies.ning.com/forum (there is an area for Wildside Press comments).
Note: we only consider stories that have already been professionally published. This is not a market for new works.
TYPOS
Unfortunately, as hard as we try, a few typos do slip through. We update our ebooks periodically, so make sure you have the current version (or download a fresh copy if it’s been sitting in your ebook reader for months.) It may have already been updated.
If you spot a new typo, please let us know. We’ll fix it for everyone. You can email the publisher directly at [email protected].
THE MEGAPACK SERIES
MYSTERY
The Achmed Abdullah Megapack
The Charlie Chan Megapack
The Craig Kennedy Scientific Detective Megapack
The Detective Megapack
The Father Brown Megapack
The Jacques Futrelle Megapack
The Anna Katharine Green Mystery Megapack
The Mystery Megapack
The Occult Detective Megapack
The Penny Parker Megapack
The Pulp Fiction Megapack
The Victorian Mystery Megapack
The Wilkie Collins Megapack
GENERAL INTEREST
The Adventure Megapack
The Baseball Megapack
The Christmas Megapack
The Second Christmas Megapack
The Classic American Short Story Megapack (vol. 1)
The Classic Humor Megapack
The Military Megapack
SCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY, HORROR
The Achmed Abdullah Megapack
The Edward Bellamy Megapack
The E.F. Benson Megapack
The Second E.F. Benson Megapack
The First Reginald Bretnor Megapack
The Cthulhu Mythos Megapack
The Philip K. Dick Megapack
The Ghost Story Megapack
The Second Ghost Story Megapack
The Third Ghost Story Megapack
The Haunts & Horrors Megapack
The Horror Megapack
The M.R. James Megapack
The Murray Leinster Megapack
The Second Murray Leinster Megapack
The Macabre Megapack
The Second Macabre Megapack
The Martian Megapack
The Mummy Megapack
The Andre Norton Megapack
The Occult Detective Megapack
The Pinocchio Megapack
The H. Beam Piper Megapack
The Pulp Fiction Megapack
The Randall Garrett Megapack
The Second Randall Garrett Megapack
The First Science Fiction Megapack
The Second Science Fiction Megapack
The Third Science Fiction Megapack
The Fourth Science Fiction Megapack
The Fifth Science Fiction Megapack
The Sixth Science Fiction Megapack
The Steampunk Megapack
The Vampire Megapack
The Werewolf Megapack
The Wizard of Oz Megapack
WESTERNS
The B.M. Bower Megapack
The Max Brand Megapack
The Buffalo Bill Megapack
The Cowboy Megapack
The Zane Grey Megapack
The Western Megapack
The Second Western Megapack
The Wizard of Oz Megapack
YOUNG ADULT
The Boys’ Adventure Megapack
The Dan Carter, Cub Scout Megapack
The G.A. Henty Megapack
The Rover Boys Megapack
The Tom Corbett, Space Cadet Megapack
The Tom Swift Megapack
AUTHOR MEGAPACKS
The Achmed Abdullah Megapack
The Edward Bellamy Megapack
The B.M. Bower Megapack
The E.F. Benson Megapack
The Second E.F. Benson Megapack
The Max Brand Megapack
The First Reginald Bretnor Megapack
The Wilkie Collins Megapack
The Philip K. Dick Megapack
The Jacques Futrelle Megapack
The Randall Garrett Megapack
The Anna Katharine Green Mystery Megapack
The Zane Grey Megapack
The Second Randall Garrett Megapack
The M.R. James Megapack
The Murray Leinster Megapack
The Second Murray Leinster Megapack
The Andre Norton Megapack
The H. Beam Piper Megapack
The Rafael Sabatini Megapack
THE POT OF TULIPS, by Fitz-James O’Brien
Twenty-eight years ago, I went to spend the summer at an old Dutch villa which then lifted its head from the wild country that, in present days, has been tamed down into a site for a Crystal Palace. Madison Square was then a wilderness of fields and scrub oak, here and there diversified with tall and stately elms. Worthy citizens who could afford two establishments rusticated in the groves that then flourished where ranks of brown-stone porticos now form the landscape; and the locality of Fortieth Street, where my summer palace stood, was justly looked upon as at an enterprising distance from the city.
I had an imperious desire to live in this house ever since I can remember. I had often seen it when a boy, and its cool verandas and quaint garden seemed, whenever I passed, to attract me irresistibly. In after years, when I grew up to man’s estate, I was not sorry, therefore, when one summer, fatigued with the labors of my business, I beheld a notice in the papers intimating that it was to be let furnished. I hastened to my dear friend, Jaspar Joye, painted the delights of this rural retreat in the most glowing colors, easily obtained his assent to share the enjoyments and the expense with me, and a month afterward we were taking our ease in this new paradise.
Independent of early associations, other interests attached me to this house. It was somewhat historical, and had given shelter to George Washington on the occasion of one of his visits to the city. Furthermore, I knew the descendants of the family to whom it had originally belonged. Their history was strange and mournful, and it seemed to me as if their individuality was somehow shared by the edifice. It had been built by a Mr. Van Koeren, a gentleman of Holland, the younger son of a rich mercantile firm at the Hague, who had emigrated to this country in order to establish a branch of his father’s business in New York, which even then gave indications of the prosperity it has since reached with such marvellous rapidity. He had brought with him a fair young Belgian wife; a loving girl, if I may believe her portrait, with soft brown eyes, chestnut hair, and a deep, placid contentment spreading over her fresh and innocent features. Her son, Alain Van Koeren, had her picture an old miniature in a red gold frame as well as that of his father, and in truth, when looking on the two, one could not conceive a greater contrast than must have existed between husband and wife. Mr. Van Koeren must have been a man of terrible will and gloomy temperament. His face in the picture is dark and austere, his eyes deep-sunken, and burning as if with a slow, inward fire. The lips are thin and compressed, with much determination of purpose; and his chin, boldly salient, is brimful of power and resolution. When first I saw those two pictures I sighed inwardly and thought, “Poor child! you must often have sighed for the sunny meadows of Brussels, in the long, gloomy nights spent in the company of that terrible man!”
I was not far wrong, as I afterward discovered. Mr. and Mrs. Van Koeren were very unhappy. Jealousy was his monomania, and he had scarcely been married before his girl-wife began to feel the oppression of a gloomy and ceaseless tyranny. Every man under fifty, whose hair was not white and whose form was erect, was an object of suspicion to this Dutch Bluebeard. Not that he was vulgarly jealous. He did not frown at his wife before strangers, or attack her with reproaches in the midst of her festivities. He was too well-bred a man to bare his private woes to the world. But at night, when the guests had departed and the dull light of the quaint old Flemish lamps but half illuminated the nuptial chamber, then it was that with monotonous invective Mr. Van Koeren crushed his wife. And Marie, weeping and silent, would sit on the edge of the bed listening to the cold, trenchant irony of her husband, who, pacing up and down the room, would now and then stop in his walk to gaze with his burning eyes upon the pallid face of his victim. Even the evidences that Marie gave of becoming a mother did not check him. He saw in that coming event, which most husbands anticipate with mingled joy and fear, only an approaching incarnation of his dishonor. He watched with a horrible refinement of suspicion for the arrival of that being in whose features he madly believed he should but too surely trace the evidences of his wife’s crime.
Whether it was that these ceaseless attacks wore out her strength, or that Providence wished to add another chastening misery to her burden of woe, I dare not speculate; but it is certain that one luckless night Mr. Van Koeren learned with fury that he had become a father two months before the allotted time. During his first paroxysm of rage, on the receipt of intelligence which seemed to confirm all his previous suspicions, it was, I believe, with difficulty that he was prevented from slaying both the innocent causes of his resentment. The caution of his race and the presence of the physicians induced him, however, to put a curb upon his furious will until reflection suggested quite as criminal, if not as dangerous, a vengeance. As soon as his poor
wife had recovered from her illness, unnaturally prolonged by the delicacy of constitution induced by previous mental suffering, she was astonished to find, instead of increasing his persecutions, that her husband had changed his tactics and treated her with studied neglect. He rarely spoke to her except on occasions when the decencies of society demanded that he should address her. He avoided her presence, and no longer inhabited the same apartments. He seemed, in short, to strive as much as possible to forget her existence. But if she did not suffer from personal ill-treatment it was because a punishment more acute was in store for her. If Mr. Van Koeren had chosen to affect to consider her beneath his vengeance, it was because his hate had taken another direction, and seemed to have derived increased intensity from the alteration. It was upon the unhappy boy, the cause of all this misery, that the father lavished a terrible hatred. Mr. Van Koeren seemed determined, that, if this child sprang from other loins than his, the mournful destiny which he forced upon him should amply avenge his own existence and the infidelity of his mother. While the child was an infant his plan seemed to have been formed. Ignorance and neglect were the two deadly influences with which he sought to assassinate the moral nature of this boy; and his terrible campaign against the virtue of his own son was, as he grew up, carried into execution with the most consummate generalship. He gave him money, but debarred him from education. He allowed him liberty of action, but withheld advice. It was in vain that his mother, who foresaw the frightful consequences of such a training, sought in secret by every means in her power to nullify her husband’s attempts. She strove in vain to seduce her son into an ambition to be educated. She beheld with horror all her agonized efforts frustrated, and saw her son and only child becoming, even in his youth, a drunkard and a libertine. In the end it proved too much for her strength; she sickened, and went home to her sunny Belgian plains. There she lingered for a few months in a calm but rapid decay, whose calmness was broken but by the one grief; until one autumn day, when the leaves were falling from the limes, she made a little prayer for her son to the good God, and died. Vain orison! Spendthrift, gamester, libertine, and drunkard by turns, Alain Van Koeren’s earthly destiny was unchangeable. The father, who should have been his guide, looked on each fresh depravity of his son’s with a species of grim delight. Even the death of his wronged wife had no effect upon his fatal purpose. He still permitted the young man to run blindly to destruction by the course into which he himself had led him.
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