19 Tales of Terror

by Whit Burnett

  upon the fresh-turned earth. Dr. Audlin found that by speaking

  to men with that low, monotonous voice of his, by looking at

  them with his pale, quiet eyes, by stroking their weary fore-heads with his long firm hands, he could soothe their perturbations, resolve the conflicts that distracted them and banish the phobias that made their lives a torment. Sometimes he effected

  cures that seemed miraculous. He restored speech to a man

  who, after being buried under the earth by a bursting shell, had

  been struck dumb, and he gave back the use of his limbs to another who had been paralyzed after a crash in a plane. He could not understand his powers; he was of a sceptical turn.

  and though they say that in circumstances of this kind the first

  thing is to believe in yourself, he never quite succeeded in doing

  that; and it was only the outcome of his activites, patent to the

  most incredulous observer, that obliged him to admit that he

  had some faculty, coming from he knew not where, obscure

  and uncertain, that enabled him to do things for which he could

  offer no explanation. When the war was over he went to Vienna

  and studied there, and afterwards to Zurich; and then settled

  down in London to practise the art he had so strongly acquired. He had been practising now for fifteen years, and had attained, in the specialty he followed, a distinguished reputation. People told one another of the amazing things he had done, and though his fees were high, he had as many patients as

  he had time to see. Dr. Audlin knew that he had achieved some

  very extraordinary results; he had saved men from suicide,

  others from the lunatic asylum, he had assuaged griefs that embittered useful lives, he had turned unhappy marriages into happy ones, he· had eradicated abnormal instincts and thus de..

  livered not a few from a hateful bondage, he had given health

  to the sick in spirit; he had done all this, and yet at the back of

  his mind remained the suspicion that he was little more than a

  quack.

  It went against his grain to exercise a power that be could

  not understand, and it offended his honesty to trade on the

  faith of the people he treated when he had no faith in himself.

  He was rich enough now to live without working, and the work

  exhausted him; a dozen times he had been on the point of giving

  46

  Nineteen Tales of Terror

  •

  up practice. He knew all that Freud and Jung and the rest of

  them had written. He was not satisfied; he had an intimate conviction that all their theory was, hocus-pocus, and yet there the results were, incomprehensible, but manifest. And what had he

  not seen of human nature during the fifteen years that patients

  had been coming to his dingy back room in Wimpole Street?

  The revelations that had been poured into his ears, sometimes

  only too willingly, sometimes with shame, with reservations,

  with anger, had long ceased to surprise him. Nothing could

  shock him any longer. He knew by now that men were liars, he

  knew how extravagant was their vanity; he knew far worse

  than that about them; but he knew that it was not for him to

  judge or to condemn. But year by year as these terrible confidences were imparted to him his face grew a little greyer, its lines a little more marked and his pale eyes more weary. He

  seldom laughed, but now and again when for relaxation he read

  a novel he smiled. Did their authors really think the men and

  women they wrote of were like that? If they only knew how

  much more complicated they were, how much more unexpected, what irreconcilable elements coexisted within their souls and what dark and sinister contentions afflicted them!

  It was a quarter to six. Of all the strange cases he had been

  called upon to deal with, Dr. Audlin could remember none

  stranger than that of Lord Mountdrago. For one thing the personality of his patient made it singular. Lord Mountdrago was an able and a distinguished man. Appointed Secretary for Foreign Affairs when still under forty, now after three years in office he had seen his policy prevail. It was generally acknowledged that he was the ablest politician in the Conservative Party, and only the fact that his father was a peer, on whose

  death he would no longer be able to sit in the House of Commons, made it impossible for him to aim at the premiership.

  But if in these democratic times it is out of the question for a

  Prime Minister of England to be in the House of Lords, there

  was nothing lo prevent Lord Mountdrago from continuing to

  be Secretary for Foreign Affairs in successive Conservative

  administrations and so for long directing the foreign policy of

  his country.

  Lord Mountdrago had many good qualities. He had intelligence and industry. He was widely travelled and spoke several languages fluently. From early youth he had specialized in foreign affairs and had conscientiously made himself acquainted with the political and economic circumstances of other countries. He had courage, insight and determination. He was a good speaker, both on the platform and in the House, clear,

  precise and often witty. He was a brilliant debater and his gift

  of repartee was celebrated. He had a fine presence : he was a

  Lord Mountdrago • 41

  tall, handsome man, rather bald and somewhat too stout, but

  this gave him solidity and an air of maturity that were of service to him. As a young man he had been something of an athlete and had rowed in the Oxford boat, and he was known

  to be one of the best shots in England. At twenty-four he had

  married a girl of eighteen whose father was a duke and her

  mother a great American heiress, so that she had both position

  and wealth, and by her he had had two sons. For several years

  they had lived privately apart, but in public united, so that appearances were saved, and no other attachment on either side had given the gossips occasion to whisper. Lord Mountdrago

  indeed was too ambitious, too hard-working, and it must be

  added too patriotic, to be tempted by any pleasures that might

  interfere with his careeer. He had in short a great deal to make

  him a popular and successful figure. He had unfortunately great

  defects.

  He was a fearful snob. You would not have been surprised

  at this if his father had been the first holder of the title. That the

  son of an ennobled lawyer, manufacturer or distiller should

  attach an inordinate importance to his rank is understandable.

  The earldom held by Lord Mountdrago's father was created by

  Charles II, and the barony held by the first earl dated from the

  Wars of the Roses. For three hundred years the successive

  holders of the title had allied themselves with the noblest families of England. But Lord Mountdrago was as conscious of his birth as a nouveau riche is conscious of his money. He never

  missed an opportunity of impressing it upon others. He had

  beautiful manners when he chose to display them, but this he

  did only with people whom he regarded as his equals. He was

  coldly insolent to those whom he looked upon as his social inferiors. He was rude to his servants and insulting to his secretaries. The subordinate officials in the government offices to which he had been successively attached feared and hated him.

  His arrogance was horrible. He knew that he was a great deal

  cleverer than most of the persons he had to do with, and never

  hesitated to apprise them of the fact. He had no patience with

  the infirmities of hu
man nature. He felt himself born to command and was irritated with people who expected him to listen to their arguments or wished to hear the reasons for his decisions. He was immeasurably selfish. He looked upon any service that was rendered him as a right due to his rank and intelligence and therefore deserving of no gratitude. It never entered his head that he was called upon to do anything for others.

  He had many enemies : he despised them. He knew no one who

  merited his assistance, his sympathy or his compassion. He had

  no friends. He was distrusted by his chiefs, because they

  doubted his loyalty; he was unpopular with his party, because

  48 • Nineteen Tales of Terror

  he was overbearing and discourteous; and yet his merit was so

  great, his patriotism so evident, his intelligence so solid and his

  management of affairs so brilliant, that they had to put up with

  him. And what made it possible to do this was that on occasion

  he could be enchanting: when he was with persons whom he

  considered his equals, or whom he wished to captivate, in the

  company of foreign dignitaries or women of distinction, he

  could be gay, witty and debonair; his manners then reminded

  you that in his veins ran the same blood as had run in the veins

  of Lord Chesterfield; he could tell a story with point, he could

  be natural, sensible and even profound. You were surprised at

  the extent of his knowledge and the sensitiveness of his taste.

  You thought him the best company in the world ; you forgot

  that he had insulted you the day before and was quite capable

  of cutting you dead the next.

  Lord Mountd.rago almost failed to become Dr. Audlin's patient. A secretary rang up the doctor and told him that his lordship, wishing to consult him, would be glad if he would come to his house at ten o'clock on the following morning. Dr. Audlin

  answered that he was unable to go to Lord Mountdrago's

  house, but would be pleased to give him an appointment at his

  consulting room at five o'clock on the next day but one. The

  secretary took the message and presently rang back to say that

  Lord Mountd.rago insisted on seeing Dr. Audlin in his own

  house and the doctor could fix his own fee. Dr. Audlin replied

  that he saw patients only in his consulting room and expressed

  his regret that unless Lord Mountdrago was prepared to come

  to him he could not give him his attention. In a quarter of an

  hour a brief message was delivered to him that his lordship

  would come not next day but one, but next day, at five.

  When Lord Mountdrago was then shown in he did not come

  forward, but stood at the door and insolently looked the doctor

  up and down. Dr. Audlin perceived that he was in a rage; he

  gazed at him, silently, with still eyes. He saw a big heavy man,

  with greying hair, receding on the forehead so that it gave nobility to his brow, a puffy face with bold regular features and an expression of haughtiness. He had somewhat the look of

  one of the Bourbon sovereigns of the eighteenth century.

  "It seems that it is as difficult to see you as a Prime Minister,

  Dr. Audlin. I'm an extremely busy man."

  "Won't you sit down?" said the doctor.

  His face showed no sign that Lord Mountdrago's speech in

  any way affected him. Dr. Audlin sat in his chair at the desk.

  Lord Mountdrago still stood, and his frown darkened.

  "I think I should tell you that I am His Majesty's Secretary

  for Foreign Affairs," he said acidly.

  "Won't you sit down?" the doctor repeated.

  Lard Mountdraro • 41

  Lord Mountdrago made a gesture, which might have suggested that he was about to turn on his heel and stalk out of the room; but if that was his intention he apparently thought better

  of it. He seated himself. Dr. Audlin opened a large book and

  took up his pen. He wrote without looking at his patient.

  "How old are you?"

  "Forty-two."

  "Are you married?"

  "Yes."

  "How long have you been married?"

  "Eighteen years."

  "Have you any children?"

  "I have two sons."

  Dr. Audlin noted down the facts as Lord Mountdrago abruptly answered his questions. Then he leaned back in his chair and looked at him. He did not speak; he just looked, gravely,

  with pale eyes that did not move.

  "Why have you come to see me?" he asked at length.

  "I've heard about you. Lady Canute is a patient of yours, I

  understand. She tells me you've done her a certain amount of

  good."

  Dr. Audlin did not reply. His eyes remained fixed on the

  other's face, but they were so empty of expression that you

  might have thought he did not even see him.

  "I can't do miracles," he said at length. Not a smile, but the

  shadow of a smile flickered in his eyes. "The Royal College of

  Physicians would not approve of it if I did."

  Lord Mountdrago gave a brief chuckle. It seemed to lessen

  his hostility. He spoke more amiably.

  "You have a very remarkable reputation. People seem to b�

  lieve in you."

  "Why have you come to me?" repeated Dr. Audlin.

  Now it was Lord Mountdrago's tum to be silent. It looked

  as though he found it hard to answer. Dr. Audlin waited. At

  last Lord Mountdrago seemed to make an effort. He spoke.

  "I'm in perfect health. Just as a matter of routine I had myself examined by my own doctor the other day, Sir Augustus Fitzherbert, I daresay you've heard of him, and he tells me I

  have the physique of a man of thirty. I work hard, but I'm

  never tired, and I enjoy my work. I smoke very little and I'm

  an extremely moderate drinker. I take a sufficiency of exercise

  and I lead a regular life. I am a perfectly sound, normal,

  healthy man. I quite expect you to think it very silly and childish of me to consult you."

  Dr. Audlin saw that he must help him.

  "I don't know if I can do anything to help you. I'll try. You're

  distressed?"

  10 • lllneteen Tales of Terror

  . Lord Mountdrago frowned.

  "The work that I'm engaged in is important. The decisions I

  am called upon to make can easily affect the welfare of the

  country and even the peace of the world. It is essential that my

  judgment should be balanced and my brain clear. I look upon it

  as my duty to eliminate any cause of worry that may interfere

  with my Usefulness."

  Dr. Audlin had never taken his eyes off him. He saw a great

  deal. He saw behind his patient's pompous manner and arrogant pride an anxiety that he could not dispel.

  "I asked you to be good enough to come here because I

  know by experience that it's easier for someone to speak

  openly in the dingy surroundings of a doctor's consulting raom

  than in his accustomed environment."

  ''They're certainly dingy," said Lord Mountdrago acidly. He

  paused. It was evident that this man who had so much selfassurance, so quick and decided a mind that he was never at a loss, at this moment was embarrassed. He smiled in order to

  show the doctor that he was at his ease, but his eyes betrayed

  his disquiet. When he spoke again it was with unnatural hearti-

  ness.

  ,

  ''The whole thing's so trivial that I can hardly bring myself

  to bother you with it. I'm afraid you
'll just tell me not to be a

  fool and waste your valuable time."

  "Even things that seem very trivial may have their importance. They can be a symptom of a deep-seated derangement.

  And my time is entirely at your disposal."

  Dr. Audlin's voice was low and grave. The monotone in

  which he spoke was strangely soothing. Lord Mountdrago at

  length made up his mind to be frank.

  ''The fact is I've been having some very tiresome dreams

  lately. I know it's silly to pay any attention to them, but-well,

  the honest truth is that I'm afraid they've got on my nerves."

  "Can you describe any of them to me?"

  Lord Mountdrago smiled, but the smile that tried to be careless was only rueful.

  ''They're so idiotic, I can hardly bring myself to narrate

  them."

  "Never mind."

  "Well, the first I had was about a month ago. I dreamt that I

  was at a party at Connemara House. It was an official party.

  The King and Queen were to be there, and of course decorations were worn. I was wearing my ribbon and my star. I went into a sort of cloakroom they have to take off my coat. There

  was a little man there called Owen Griffiths, who's a Welsh

  member of Parliament, and to tell you the truth, I was surprised

  to see him. He's very common, and I said to myself, 'Really,

  Lord Mountdrago • 5 1

  Lydia Connemara i s going too far, whom will she ask next?' I

  thought he looked at me rather curiously, but I didn't take any

  notice of him; in fact I cut the little bounder and walked upstairs. I suppose you've never been there?"

  "Never."

  "No, it's not the sort of house you'd ever be likely to go to.

  It's a rather vulgar house, but it's got a very fine marble staircase, and the Connemaras were at the top receiving their guests.

  Lady Connemara gave me a look of surprise when I shook

  bands with her, and began to giggle; I didn't pay much attention-she's a very silly, ill-bred woman, and her manners are no better than those of her ancestress whom King Charles I I

  made a duchess. I must say the reception rooms a t Connemara

  House are stately. I walked through, nodding to a number of

  people and shaking hands; then I saw the German Ambassador

  talking with one of the Austrian archdukes. I particularly