The ghouls

by Haining, Peter, comp

  "Don't be alarmed," said Rainsford, with a smile which he hoped was disarming. "I'm no robber. I fell off a yacht. My name is Sanger Rainsford of New York City."

  The menacing look in the eyes did not change. The revolver pointed as rigidly as if the giant were a statue. He gave no sign that he understood Rainsford's words, or that he had even heard them. He was dressed in uniform, a black uniform trimmed with grey astrakhan.

  "I'm Sanger Rainsford of New York," Rainsford began again. "I fell off a yacht. I am hungry."

  The man's only answer was to raise with his thumb the hammer of his revolver. Then Rainsford saw the man's free hand go to his forehead in a military salute and he saw him click his heels together and stand at attention. Another man was coming down the broad marble steps, an erect, slender man in evening clothes. He advanced to Rainsford and held out his hand. In a cultivated voice marked by a slight accent that gave it added precision and deliberateness, he said: "It is a very great pleasure and honour to welcome Mr. Sanger Rainsford, the celebrated hunter, to my home. I've read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet, you see," explained the man. "I am General Zaroff."

  Rainsford's first impression was that the man was singularly handsome; his second was that there was an original, almost bizarre quality about the general's face. He was a tall man past middle age, for his hair was a vivid white, but his thick eyebrows and pointed military moustache were as black as the night from which Rainsford had come.

  His eyes, too, were black and very bright. He had high cheekbones, a sharp-cut nose, a spare, dark face, the face of a man used to giving orders, the face of an aristocrat. Turning to the giant in uniform, the general made a sign. The giant put away his pistol, saluted, withdrew.

  "Ivan is an incredibly strong fellow," remarked the general, "but he has the misfortune to be deaf and dumb. A simple fellow, but, I'm afraid, like all his race, a bit of a savage."

  "Is he Russian?"

  "He is a Cossack," said the general, and his smile showed red lips and pointed teeth. "So am I."

  "Come," he said, "we shouldn't be chatting here. We can talk later. Now you want clothes, food, rest. You shall have them. This is a most restful spot. Follow Ivan, if you please, Mr. Rainsford. I was about to have my dinner when you came. Til wait for you. You'll find that my clothes will fit you, I think."

  It was to a huge beam-ceiling bedroom with a canopied bed big enough for six men that Rainsford followed the silent giant. Ivan laid out an evening suit and Rainsford, as he put it on, noticed that it came from a London tailor who ordinarily cut and sewed for none below the rank of duke.

  The dining room to which Ivan conducted him was in many ways remarkable. It suggested a baronial hall of feudal times with its oaken panels, its high ceiling, its vast refectory table where two score men could sit down to eat. About the hall were the mounted heads of many animals—lions, tigers, elephants, moose, bears; larger or more perfect specimens Rainsford had never seen. The table appointments were of the finest—the linen, the crystal, the silver, the china.

  Half apologetically General Zaroff said: "We do our best to preserve the amenities of civilization here. Please forgive any lapses. We are well off the beaten track, you know."

  The general seemed a most thoughtful and affable host, a true cosmopolite. But whenever he looked up from his plate Rainsford found the general studying him, appraising him narrowly.

  "Perhaps," said General Zaroff, "you were surprised that I recognized your name. You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and it is the hunt."

  "You have some wonderful heads here," said Rainsford. "That Cape buffalo is the largest I ever saw. I've always thought that the Cape buffalo is the most dangerous of all big game."

  For a moment the general did not reply; he was smiling his curious red-lipped smile. Then he said slowly: "No. You are wrong, sir. The Cape buffalo is not the most dangerous big game." He sipped his wine. "Here in my preserve on this island," he said, in the same slow tone, "I hunt more dangerous game."

  Rainsford expressed his surprise. "Is there big game on this island?"

  "Oh, it isn't here naturally, of course, I have to stock the island."

  "What have you imported, General: 1 " Rainsford asked. "Tigers?"

  The general smiled. "No," he said. "Hunting tigers ceased to interest me some years ago. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford. We will have some capital hunting, you and I. I shall be most glad to have your society."

  "But what game—" began Rainsford.

  Til tell you," said the general. "You will be amused, I know. I think I may say, in all modesty, that I have done a rare thing. I have invented a new sensation."

  The general continued: "God makes some men poets. Some He makes kings, some beggars. Me He made a hunter. My hand was made for the trigger, my father said. When I was only five years old he gave me a little gun, especially made in Moscow for me, to shoot sparrows with. I killed my first bear when I was ten. My whole life has been one prolonged hunt. I went into the army and for a time commanded a division of Cossack cavalry, but my real interest was always the hunt. I have hunted every kind of game in every land. It would be impossible for me to tell you how many animals I have killed.

  "After the debacle in Russia I left the country; for it was imprudent for an officer of the Tsar to stay there. Luckily, I had invested heavily in American securities, so I shall never have to open a tea room in Monte Carlo or drive a taxi in Paris. Naturally, I continued to hunt —grizzlies in your Rockies, crocodiles in the Ganges, rhinoceroses in East Africa. I went to the Amazon to hunt jaguars, for I had heard that they were unusually cunning. They weren't." The Cossack sighed. "They were no match at all for a hunter with his wits about him, and a high-powered rifle. I was bitterly disappointed. I was lying in my tent with a splitting headache one night when a terrible thought pushed its way into my mind. Hunting was beginning to bore me! And hunting, remember, had been my life. I asked myself why the hunt no longer fascinated me. You are much younger than I am, Mr. Rainsford, and have not hunted as much, but you perhaps can guess the answer."

  "What was it?"

  "Simply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call 'a sporting proposition*. It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always. There is no greater bore than perfection."

  The general lit a fresh cigarette. "No animal had a chance with me any more. That is no boast, it is a mathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his instinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this it was a tragic moment for me, I tell you."

  Rainsford leaned across the table, absorbed in what his host was saying.

  "It came to me as an inspiration what I must do," the general went on.

  "And that was?"

  The general smiled the quiet smile of one who has faced an obstacle and surmounted it with success. "I had to invent a new animal to hunt," he said.

  "A new animal? You're joking."

  "Not at all," said the general. "I never joke about hunting. I bought this island, built this house, and here I do my hunting. The island is perfect for my purposes—there are jungles with a maze of trails in them, hills, swamps—"

  "But the animal, General Zaroff?"

  "Oh," said the general, "it supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world. Every day I hunt, and I never grow bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits."

  Rainsford's bewilderment showed in his face.

  "I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said: What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course: It must have courage, cunning and, above all, it must be able to reason.'"

  "But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford.

  "My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can."

  "But you can't mean—" gasped Rainsford.

  "And why not?"
<
br />   "I can't believe you are serious, General Zaroff. This is a grisly joke."

  "Why should I not be serious? I am speaking of hunting."

  "Hunting? Good God, General Zaroff, what you speak of is murder."

  The general laughed. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. "I refuse to believe that so modern a man harbours romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war—"

  "Did not make me condone cold-blooded murder," finished Rains-ford, stiffly.

  Laughter shook the general. "How extraordinary droll you are!" he said. "One does not expect nowadays to find a young man of the educated class, even in America, with such a naive and, if I may say so, mid-Victorian point of view. It's like finding a snuff-box in a limousine. I'll wager you'll forget your notions when you go hunting with me. You've a genuine new thrill in store for you, Mr. Rainsford."

  "Thank you, I'm a hunter, not a murderer."

  "Dear me," said the general, quite unruffled, "again that unpleasant word. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill-founded."

  "Yes?"

  "Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and if needs be, taken by the strong. The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth—sailors from tramp ships —lascars, blacks, Chinese, whites, mongrels—a thoroughbred horse or hound is worth more than a score of them."

  "But where do you get them?"

  "This island is called Ship Trap," he answered. "Sometimes an angry god of the high seas sends them to me. Sometimes, when Providence is not so kind, I help Providence a bit. Come to the window with me.

  "Watch! Out there!" exclaimed the general, pointing into the night. As the general pressed a button, far out to sea Rainsford saw the flash of lights.

  The general chuckled. "They indicate a channel," he said, "where there's none: giant rocks with razor edges crouch like a sea monster with wide-open paws. They can crush a ship as easily as I crush this nut." He dropped a walnut on the hardwood floor and brought his heel grinding down on it. "Oh, yes," he said, casually, as if in answer to a question, "I have electricity. We try to be civilized here."

  "Civilized? And you shoot down men?"

  A trace of anger was in the general's black eyes, but it was there for but a second, and he said, in his most pleasant manner: "Dear me, what a righteous young man you are! That would be barbarous. I treat these visitors with every consideration. They get plenty of good food and exercise. They get into splendid physical condition. You shall see for yourself tomorrow."

  "What do you mean?"

  "We'll visit my training school," smiled the general. "It's in the cellar. I have about a dozen pupils down there now. They're from the Spanish bark Sanlucar that had the bad luck to go on the rocks out there. A very inferior lot, I regret to say. Poor specimens and more accustomed to the deck than to the jungle."

  He raised his hand, and Ivan brought thick Turkish coffee. Rains-ford, with an effort, held his tongue in check.

  "It's a game, you see," pursued the general, blandly. "I suggest to one of them that we go hunting. I give him a supply of food and an excellent hunting knife. I give him three hours' start. I am to follow, armed only with a pistol of the smallest calibre and range. If my quarry eludes me for three whole days, he wins the game. If I find him"—the general smiled—"he loses."

  "Suppose he refuses to be hunted?"

  "Oh," said the general, "I give him his option, of course. If he does not wish to hunt, I turn him over to Ivan. Ivan once had the honour of serving as official knouter to the Great White Tsar, and he has his own ideas of sport. Invariably, Mr. Rainsford, invariably they choose the hunt."

  "And if they win?"

  The smile on the general's face widened. "To date I have not lost," he said. Then he added, hastily, "I don't wish you to think me a braggart, Mr. Rainsford. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort of problem. Occasionally I strike a tartar. One almost did win. I eventually had to use the dogs."

  The general steered Rainsford to a window. The lights from the windows sent a flickering illumination that made grotesque patterns on the courtyard below and Rainsford could see moving about there a dozen or so huge black shapes; as they turned towards him, their eyes glittered greenly.

  "A rather good lot, I think," observed the general. "They are let out at seven every night. If anyone should try to get into my house—or out of it—something extremely regrettable would occur to him." He hummed a snatch of song.

  "And now," said the general, "I want to show you my new collection of heads. Will you come with me to the library?"

  "I hope," said Rainsford, "that you will excuse me tonight, General. I'm really not feeling at all well."

  "Ah, indeed?" the general inquired, solicitously. "Well, I suppose that's only natural, after your long swim. Tomorrow, you'll feel like a

  new man, I'll wager. Then well hunt, eh? I've one rather promising prospect—"

  Rainsford was hurrying from the room.

  "Sorry you can't go with me tonight," called the general. "I expect rather fair sport—a big, strong black. He looks resourceful— Well, good night, Mr. Rainsford, I hope you have a good night's rest."

  The bed was good and the pyjamas of the softest silk, and he was tired in every fibre of his being, but nevertheless Rainsford could not quiet his brain with the opiate of sleep. He lay, eyes wide open. Once he thought he heard stealthy steps in the corridor outside his room. He sought to throw open the door, it would not open. He went to the window and looked out. His room was high up in one of the towers. The lights of the chateau were out now and it was dark and silent, but there was a fragment of sallow moon and by its light he could see, dimly, the courtyard; there, weaving in and out in the pattern of shadow, were black, noiseless forms; the hounds heard him at the window and looked up expectantly, with their green eyes. Rainsford went back to the bed and lay down. He had achieved a doze when, just as morning began to come, he heard, far off in the jungle, the faint report of a pistol.

  General Zaroff did not appear until luncheon. He was dressed faultlessly in the tweeds of a country squire. He was solicitous about the state of Rainsford's health.

  "As for me," sighed the general, "I do not feel so well. I am worried, Mr. Rainsford. Last night I detected traces of my old complaint. The hunting was not good last night. The fellow lost his head. He made a straight trail that offered no problems at all. That's the trouble with these sailors, they have dull brains to begin with and they do not know how to get about in the woods. It's most annoying."

  "General," said Rainsford, firmly, "I wish to leave this island at once." The general raised his thickets of eyebrows, he seemed hurt. "But, my dear fellow," the general protested, "you've only just come. You've had no hunting—"

  T wish to go today," said Rainsford. He saw the dead black eyes of the general on him, studying him. General ZarofFs face suddenly brightened.

  "Tonight," said the general, "we will hunt—you and I."

  Rainsford shook his head. "No, General," he said, "I will not hunt."

  The general shrugged his shoulders. "As you wish, my friend," he

  said. "The choice rests entirely with you. But may I not venture to suggest that you will find my idea of sport more diverting than Ivan's?"

  "You don't mean—" cried Rainsford.

  "My dear fellow," said the general, "have I not told you I always mean what I say about hunting? This is really an inspiration. I drink to a foeman worthy of my steel—at last."

  The general raised his glass, but Rainsford sat staring at him.

  "You'll find this game worth playing," the general said, enthusiastically. 'Tour brain against mine. Your woodcraft against mine. Your strength and stamina against mine. And the stake is not without value, eh?"

  "And if I win—" began Rainsford huskily.

  "I'll cheerfully acknowledge myself defeated i
f I do not find you by midnight of the third day," said General ZarofT. "My sloop will place you on the mainland near a town. I will give you my word as a gentleman and a sportsman. Of course, you, in turn, must agree to say nothing of your visit here."

  "I'll agree to nothing of the kind," said Rainsford.

  "Oh," said the general, "in that case—but why discuss that now?" Then a business-like air animated him. "Ivan," he said to Rainsford, "will supply you with hunting clothes, food, a knife. I suggest you wear moccasins, they leave a poorer trail. I suggest, too, that you avoid the big swamp in the southeast corner of the island. We called it Death Swamp. There's quicksand there. One foolish fellow tried it. The deplorable part of it was that Lazarus followed him. I loved Lazarus, he was the finest hound in my pack. Well, I must beg you to excuse me now. I always take a siesta after lunch. You'll hardly have time for a nap, I fear. You'll want to start, no doubt. I shall not follow till dusk. Hunting at night is so much more exciting than by day, don't you think? An revoir, Mr. Rainsford, au revoir"

  General Zaroff, with a deep, courtly bow, strolled from the room. From another door came Ivan. Under one arm he carried khaki hunting clothes, a haversack of food, a leather sheath containing a long-bladed hunting knife; his right hand rested on a cocked revolver thrust in the crimson sash about his waist.

  Rainsford had fought his way through the bush for two hours. "I

  must keep my nerve. I must keep my nerve," he said, through tight teeth.

  He had not been entirely clear-headed when the chateau gates