It was two feet long, or more, round instead of flat, rather like a large needle. Though the metal was bright and worn with much polishing, the inscription over which Pursuivant and Varduk had pored was plainly decipherable by the firelight. Sic pereant omnes inimici tui, Domine … I murmured it aloud, as though it were a protective charm.
"As you may know," elaborated Judge Pursuivant, "silver is a specific against all evil creatures."
"That's so," interjected Jake. "I heard my grandfather tell a yarn about the old country, how somebody killed a witch with a silver bullet."
"And this is an extraordinary object, even among silver swords," Pursuivant went on. "A priest gave it to me, with his blessing, when I did a certain thing to help him and his parish against an enemy not recognized by the common law of today. He assured me that the blade was fashioned by Saint Dunstan himself."
"A saint make a silver weapon!" I ejaculated incredulously.
Pursuivant smiled, exactly as though we had not lately feared and fought for our lives and souls. His manner was that of a kindly teacher with a dull but willing pupil.
"Saint Dunstan is not as legendary or as feeble as his name sounds. As a matter of fact, he flourished heartily in the Tenth Century-not long before the very real Norman Conquest. He was the stout son of a Saxon noble, studied magic and metal-working, and was a political power in England as well as a spiritual one."
"Didn't he tweak Satan's nose?" I inquired.
"So the old poem tells, and so the famous painting illustrates," agreed Pursuivant, his smile growing broader. "Dunstan was, in short, exactly the kind of holy man who would make a sword to serve against demons. Do you blame me for being confident in his work?"
"Look here, Judge," said Jake, "what were those things that jumped us up?"
"That takes answering." Pursuivant had fished a handkerchief from a side pocket and was carefully wiping the silver skewer. "In the first place, they are extraterrestrial-supernatural-and in the second, they are noi-somely evil. We need no more evidence on those points. As for the rest, I have a theory of a sort, based on wide studies."
"What is it, sir?" I seconded Jake. Once again the solid assurance of the judge was comforting me tremendously.
He pursed his lips. "I've given the subject plenty of thought ever since you, Connatt, told me the experience of your friend here. There are several accounts and considerations of similar phenomena. Among ancient occultists was talk of elementary spirits-things super-normal and sometimes invisible, of sub-human intelligence and personality and not to be confused with spirits of the dead. A more modern word is "elemental", used by several cults. The things are supposed to exert influences of various kinds, upon various localities and people.
"Again, we have the poltergeist, a phenomenon that is coming in for lively investigation by various psychical scholars of today. I can refer you to the definitions of Carrington, Podmore and Lewis Spence-their books are in nearly every large library-but you'll find that the definitions and possible explanations vary. The most familiar manifestation of this strange but undeniable power is in the seeming mischief that it performs in various houses-the knocking over of furniture, the smashing of mirrors, the setting of mysterious fires-"
"I know about that thing," said Jake excitedly. "There was a house over in Brooklyn that had mysterious fires and stuff."
"And I've read Charles Fort's books-Wild Talents and the rest," I supplemented. "He tells about such happenings. But see here, isn't the thing generally traced to some child who was playing tricks?"
Pursuivant, still furbishing his silver blade, shook his head. "Mr Hereward Carrington, the head of the American Psychical Institute, has made a list of more than three hundred notable cases. Only twenty or so were proven fraudulent, and another twenty doubtful. That leaves approximately seven-eighths unexplained-unless you consider super-normal agency an explanation. It is true that children are often in the vicinity of the phenomena, and some investigators explain this by saying that the poltergeist is attracted or set in motion by some spiritual current from the growing personality of the child."
"Where's the child around here?" demanded Jake. "He must be a mighty bad boy. Better someone should take a stick to him."
"There is no child," answered thejudge. "The summoning power is neither immature nor unconscious, but old, wicked and deliberate. Have you ever heard of witches' familiars?"
"I have," I said. "Black cats and toads, with demon spirits."
"Yes. Also grotesque or amorphous shapes-similar, perhaps, to what we encountered tonight-or disembodied voices and hands. Now we are getting down to our own case. The non-shapes-thanks again, Connatt, for the expression-are here as part of a great evil. Perhaps they came of themselves, spiritual vultures or jackals, waiting to share in the prey. Or they may be recognized servants of a vast and dreadful activity for wrong. In any case they are here, definite and dangerous."
Again I felt my nerve deserting me. "Judge Pursuivant," I pleaded, "we must get Miss Holgar out of here."
"No. You and I talked that out this afternoon. The problem cannot be solved except at its climax."
He rose to his feet. The fire was dying.
"I suggest that you go to your quarters. Apparently you're safe indoors, and just now the moon's out from behind the clouds. Keep your eyes open, and stay in the clear. The things won't venture into the moonlight unless they feel sure of you. Anyway, I think they're waiting for something else."
"How about you?" I asked.
"Oh, I'll do splendidly." He held up the sword of Saint Dunstan. "I'll carry this naked in my hand as I go."
We said good-night all around, rather casually, like late sitters leaving their club. Pursuivant turned and walked along the road. Jake and I descended gingerly to the yard of the lodge, hurried across it, and gained our boathouse safely.
12. Return Engagement
ONE OF THE MOST extraordinary features of the entire happening was that it had so little immediate consequence.
Judge Pursuivant reached his cabin safely, and came to visit us again and again, but never remained after dark. If Varduk knew of the attack by the non-shapes, and if he felt surprise or chagrin that Pursuivant had escaped, he did not betray it. By silent and common consent, Jake and I forbore to discuss the matter between ourselves, even when we knew that we were alone.
Meanwhile, the moon waned and waxed again while we rehearsed our play and between rehearsals swam, tramped and bathed in the sun. Not one of us but seemed to profit by the exercise and fresh air. Sigrid's step grew freer, her face browner and her green-gold hair paler by contrast. I acquired some weight, but in the proper places, and felt as strong and healthy as I had been when first I went from the Broadway stage to Hollywood, eight years before. Even Jake Switz, whose natural habitat lay among theatrical offices and stage doors, became something of a hill-climber, canoeist and fisherman. Only Varduk did not tan, though he spent much time out of doors, strolling with Davidson or by himself. Despite his apparent fragility and his stiffness of gait, he was a tireless walker.
One thing Jake and I did for our protection; that was to buy, on one of our infrequent trips to the junction, an electric flashlight apiece as well as one for Sigrid. These we carried, lighted, when walking about at night, and not once in the month that followed our first encounter with the non-shapes did we have any misadventure.
The middle of July brought the full moon again, and with it the approach of our opening night.
The theatrical sections of the papers-Varduk had them delivered daily-gave us whole square yards of publicity. Jake had fabricated most of this, on his typewriter in our boathouse loft, though his most glamorous inventions included nothing of the grisly wonders we had actually experienced. Several publishers added to the general interest in the matter by sending to Varduk attractive offers for the manuscript of Ruthven, and receiving blunt refusals. One feature writer, something of a scholar of early Nineteenth Century English literature, cast a doubt upon the a
uthenticity of the piece. In reply to this, Judge Pursuivant sent an elaboration of his earlier statement that Ruthven was undoubtedly genuine. The newspaper kindly gave this rejoinder considerable notice, illustrating it with photographs of the judge, Varduk and Sigrid.
On July 20, two days before opening, Jake went out to nail signs along the main road to guide motor parties to our theater. He was cheerfully busy most of the morning, and Sigrid deigned to let me walk with her. We did not seek the road, but turned our steps along the brink of the water.
An ancient but discernible trail, made perhaps by deer, ran there.
"Happy, Sigrid?" I asked her.
"I couldn't be otherwise," she cried at once. "Our play is to startle the world-first here, then on Broadway-"
"Sigrid," I said, "what is there about this play that has such a charm for you? I know that it's a notable literary discovery, and that it's pretty powerful stuff in spots, but in the final analysis it's only melodrama with a clever supernatural twist. You're not the melodramatic type."
"Indeed?" she flung back. "Am I a type, then?"
I saw that I had been impolitic and made haste to offer apology, but she waved it aside.
"What you said might well be asked by many people. The pictures have put me into a certain narrow field, with poor Jake Switz wearing out the thesaurus to find synonyms for 'glamorous.' Yet, as a beginner in Sweden, I did Hedda Gabler and The Wild Duck-yes, and Bernard Shaw, too; I was the slum girl in Pygmalion. After that, a German picture, Cyrano de Bergerac, with me as Roxane. It was luck, perhaps, and a momentary wish by producers for a new young foreign face, that got me into American movies. But, have I done so poorly?"
"Sigrid, nobody ever did so nobly."
"And at the first, did I do always the same thing? What was my first chance? The French war bride in that farce comedy. Then what? Something by Somerset Maugham, where I wore a black wig and played a savage girl of the tropics. Then what? A starring role, or rather a co-starring role-opposite you." She gave me a smile, as though the memory were pleasant.
"Opposite me," I repeated, and a thrill crept through me. "Lavengro, the costume piece. Our costumes, incidentally, were rather like what we will wear in the first part of Ruthven"
"I was thinking the same thing. And speaking of melodrama, what about Lavengro? You, with romantic curly sideburns, stripped to the waist and fighting like mad with Noah Beery. Firelight gleaming on your wet skin, and me mopping your face with a sponge and telling you to use your right hand instead of your left-"
"By heaven, there have been lots of worse shows!" I cried, and we both laughed. My spirits had risen as we had strolled away from the lodge grounds, and I had quite forgotten my half-formed resolve to speak a warning.
We came to a stretch of sand, with a great half-rotted pine trunk lying across it. Here we sat, side by side, smoking and scrawling in the fine sand with twigs.
"There's another reason why I have been happy during this month of rehearsal," said Sigrid shyly.
"Yes?" I prompted her, and my heart began suddenly to beat swiftly.
"It's been so nice to be near you and with you."
I felt at once strong and shivery, rather like the adolescent hero of an old-fashioned novel. What I said, somewhat ruefully, was, "If you think so, why have you been so hard to see? This is the first time we have walked or been alone together."
She smiled, and in her own individual way that made her cheeks crease and her eyes turn aslant. "We saw a lot of each other once, Gib. I finished up by being sorry. I don't want to be sorry again. That's why I've gone slowly."
"See here, Sigrid," I blurted suddenly. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, or try to lead up diplomatically or dramatically, but-oh, hang it!" Savagely I broke a twig in my hands. "I loved you once, and in spite of the fact that we quarreled and separated, I've never stopped. I love you right this instant-"
She caught me in strong, fierce arms, and kissed me so soundly that our teeth rang together between lips crushed open. Thus for a second of white-hot surprise; then she let go with equal suddenness. Her face had gone pale under its tan-no acting there-and her eyes were full of panicky wonder.
"I didn't do that," she protested slowly. She, too, was plainly stunned. "I didn't. But-well, I did, didn't I?"
"You certainly did. I don't know why, and if you say so I won't ask; but you did, and it'll be hard to retire from the position again."
After that, we had a lot more to say to each other. I admitted, very humbly, that I had been responsible for our estrangement five years before, and that the reason was the very unmanly one that I, losing popularity, was jealous of her rise. For her part, she confessed that not once had she forgotten me, nor given up the hope of reconciliation.
"I'm not worth it," I assured her. "I'm a sorry failure, and we both know it."
"Whenever I see you," she replied irrelevantly, "bells begin to ring in my ears-loud alarm bells, as if fires had broken out all around me."
"We're triple idiots to think of love," I went on. "You're the top, and I'm the muck under the bottom."
"You'll be the sensation of your life when Ruthven comes to Broadway," rejoined Sigrid confidently. "And the movie magnates will fight duels over the chance to ask for your name on a contract."
"To hell with the show business! Let's run away tonight and live on a farm," I suggested.
In her genuine delight at the thought she clutched my shoulders, digging in her long, muscular fingers. "Let's!" she almost whooped, like a little girl promised a treat. "We'll have a garden and keep pigs-no, there's a show."
"And the show," I summed up, "must go on."
On that doleful commonplace we rose from the tree-trunk and walked back. Climbing to the road, we sought out Jake, who with a hammer and a mouthful of nails was fastening his last sign to a tree. We swore him to secrecy with terrible oaths, then told him that we intended to marry as soon as we returned to New York. He half swallowed a nail, choked dangerously, and had to be thumped on the back by both of us.
"I should live so-I knew this would happen," he managed to gurgle at last. "Among all the men you know, Sigrid Holgar, you got to pick this schlemielV
We both threatened to pummel him, and he apologized profusely, mourning the while that his vow kept him from announcing our decision in all the New York papers.
"With that romance breaking now, we would have every able-bodied man, woman and child east of the Mississippi trying to get into our show," he said earnestly. "With a club we'd have to beat them away from the ticket window. Standing-room would sell for a dollar an inch."
"It's a success as it is," I comforted him. "Ruthven, I mean. The house is a sell-out, Davidson says."
That night at dinner, Sigrid sat, not at the head of the table, but on one side next to me. Once or twice we squeezed hands and Jake, noticing this, was shocked and burned his mouth with hot coffee. Varduk, too, gazed at us as though he knew our secret, and finally was impelled to quote something from Byron-a satiric couplet on love and its shortness of life. But we were too happy to take offense or even to recognize that the quotation was leveled at us.
13. The Black Book
OUR FINAL REHEARSAL, on the night of the twenty-first of July, was fairly accurate as regards the speeches and attention to cues, but it lacked fire and assurance. Varduk, however, was not disappointed.
"It has often been said, and often proven as well, that a bad last rehearsal means a splendid first performance," he reminded us. "To bed all of you, and try to get at least nine hours of sleep." Then he seemed to remember something. "Miss Holgar."
"Yes?" said Sigrid.
"Come here, with me." He led her to the exact center of the stage. "At this spot, you know, you are to stand when the final incident of the play, and our dialog together, unfolds."
"I know," she agreed.
"Yet-are you sure? Had we not better be sure?" Varduk turned toward the auditorium, as though to gage their position from the point of view of the aud
ience. "Perhaps I am being too exact, yet-"
He snapped his fingers in the direction of Davidson, who seemed to have expected some sort of request signal. The big assistant reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out a piece of white chalk.
"Thank you, Davidson." Varduk accepted the proffered fragment. "Stand a little closer center, Miss Holgar. Yes, like that." Kneeling, he drew with a quick sweep of his arm a small white circle around her feet.
"That," he informed her, standing up again, "is the spot where I want you to stand, at the moment when you and I have our final conflict of words, the swearing on the Bible, and my involuntary blessing upon your head."
Sigrid took a step backward, out of the circle. I, standing behind her, could see that she had drawn herself up in outraged protest. Varduk saw, too, and half smiled as if to disarm her. "Forgive me if I seem foolish," he pleaded gently.
"I must say," she pronounced in a slow, measured manner, as though she had difficulty in controlling her voice, "that I do not feel that this little diagram will help me in the least."
Varduk let his smile grow warmer, softer. "Oh, probably it will not, Miss Holgar; but I am sure it will help me. Won't you do as I ask?"
She could not refuse, and by the time she had returned across the stage to me she had relaxed into cheerfulness again. I escorted her to the door of her cabin, and her goodnight smile warmed me all the way to my own quarters.
Judge Pursuivant appeared at noon the next day, and Varduk, hailing him cordially, invited him to lunch.
"I wonder," ventured Varduk as we all sat down together, "if you, Judge Pursuivant, would not speak a few words in our favor before the curtain tonight."
"I?" The judge stared, then laughed. "But I'm not part of the management."
"The management-which means myself-will be busy getting into costume for the first act. You are a scholar, a man whose recent book on Byron has attracted notice. It is fitting that you do what you can to help our opening."
Manly Wade Wellman - Judge Pursuivant 02 Page 7
