by Unknown
Then they would pass through the sick terms of a novitiate, would bear upon their cheeks the yellow stain, and finally would enter in upon the god and be added to the number of his priests.
Something else at which Nightmare Jack's tongue halted and his soul revolted, something confused and abominable which even his lips refused to utter, must to his mind have lain within the very nature of that cult, but I know he meant that what had come to Toby Charteris as he watched the scrap of paper whirling down the wind was but the sign and token of reception and approval by the god...
I can hear to-day the laugh, shy, almost apologetic, yet still shaken with that stark and horrid fear, with which the man we four had come to kill went on to build up and complete the explanation of his tale. At times, through all his terror, he might seem to speak with a curious reasonableness and detachment. He wanted us, and especially me, I think, to appreciate his position in the matter. He needed somehow to justify his soul, and his eyes sought mine with an odd, pathetic hunger... As he whispered on I turned to watch the race of muddy water down the river. The wind was risen higher, and the windows drummed like blood against the brain.
He said that the rubies had been stolen just about the time when they should have been removed to make new priests. Fatty had been used to sleep with them in the wallet under his pillow on the journey back. Whether in doing so he hadn't absorbed all the power there was in them Nightmare Jack didn't know, but anyhow there was enough devil left in them to affect the rest. In the ordinary way the god's seed was replaced after it had "made men," and whatever juice was left was saved up to next year. He rather fancied that Toby Charteris used to keep his share of the jewels in a skin purse around his loins, and that was why the power worked so strong with him. It was something like vaccination, and "took " better with some than others.
He rather thought that the old god had been trying to "receive " one of them for a long time, but had been hindered and delayed by some technical flaw in the procedure. Ordinarily there would be a manifestation or materialisation in some human or semi-human form, and it was Nightmare Jack's idea that the one-eyed man from Mandalay was an imperfect attempt in this direction.
Then he went on to hint that those who had been once accepted by the god could themselves "make priests" and pass along the rottenness with a pointing hand. It was a thing that might spread like the pox till all the world was vile.
And here the man upon the bed began to cringe and huddle on himself. I had to bend my head to his to catch his words. It seemed that now the evil had "got loose," and he had touched the rubies as he would tell us presently, he knew he too was wanted by the god. He repudiated the honour with dismay, for he didn't want to become a bloody priest, now did he, did he?
Outside the slowly darkening room, as Nightmare Jack resumed his tale, the wind still crept and drummed upon the panes.
IV
"Fatty an' 'is mates stayed talkin' in that room till after midnight, afraid to stir from the 'ouse, an' I, like a fool, stayed with them till the sight o' the crimson pebbles they showed me as proof o' their tale 'ad got burn into my eyes an' yellow patch be 'ang, I'd agreed to skipper the precious outfit back to Burmah. As you know well enough, gents, I 'appen to be a fair judge o' stones, an' I was ready to sell my soul rather'n leave those beauties in the 'ands o' ravin' lunatics."
Nightmare Jack's eyes glistened, and for a moment he stopped whilst his fingers, long and delicate and brown, slid tip over tip as if caressing imaginary gems. His voice was growing slowly weaker, and it was with a painful effort that he took another drink from the pannikin and again took up his tale.
"Well, they mus' 'ave been pretty well mad ever to dream of settin' out to Burmah in a crowd like that, an' I see plainly enough that I was goin' to 'ave 'ell's own trouble to find a ship an' crew an' then to clear 'er from port without suspicion, but I'd got a wad of Dr. Gill's bank notes warm against my 'eart with more to come – an', besides, I'd seen the rubies...
"After an 'eap o' worry an' delay I got a brig an' crew to work er' not 'oldin' by smokestacks, which were new-fangled in those days.
"In the evenin' before the mornin' we were to sail a strange thing 'appen. Toby Charteris, 'oo'd been fit to die for the last week or more, rushed past Dr. Gill when 'e unlocked 'is cabin to 'ave a look at 'im, tore up the companion on to the deck, an' ran shriekin' over the gangway on to the wharf. Two of the others followed quick to collar him, but 'e managed to slip them, an' it was near nightfall before 'e came back.
"Then 'e 'ad a quair tale to tell. 'E said that 'e'd been taken by a sort of frenzy, an' 'ad run wild, not knowing where 'e went, till suddenly 'e woke up an' found 'imself standin' stiff an' straight an' pointin' at a man. It was somewhere in the docks quite near the ship, an' in the evenin' light e' see the man fall down laughin' upon 'is 'ams an' curl an' shrivel before 'is eyes like a leetle, sun-dried worm...
"The others were so scared when Toby crawled on board an' told them this that they clapped 'im in irons straight away, fearin' that 'e should start an' point at them. They asked 'im then 'oo it was 'e seen fall down an' laugh like that, but either 'e couldn' or 'e wouldn' say. When we were three days out 'e died – a leetle more'n a month after 'e seen the Face.
"Of course you've guess by this what I'd made up my mind to do almost as soon as I saw the first of the rubies in the doss-'ouse. A couple of nights after Toby died, when we were close-'auled off the coast o' Spain, I took the stones from Dr. Gill's cabin locker, put off with them an' two tough lads in the twenty-three-foot sloop I'd been careful to ship before we sailed, an' left the brig with the water pourin' into 'er through a dozen 'oles in 'er bottom.
"We been through dirty weather in the Bay, an' it was a risky thing to do, but I 'ad to act before we passed through the Straits, an' run close in to land under cover o' dark. I'd 'ave got away alone if I could, but I was force to 'ave Tiny an' Craddock to 'elp me put the rest o' the watch to their long sleep an' then lower away the sloop.
"All that night the three of us ran before a northerly gale under 'alf a jib an' a reefed mainsail, an' at daybreak we made out the landfall to our south-east an' ourselves bearin' away from it a good three points to westward with the wind on our starboard quarter. 'Put 'er about,' said Tiny to me, 'an' inside 0' two hours we'll make the coast.'
"Then I put the tiller over sharp, but I never 'auled in on the main sheet as we payed off on the other tack, an' the big boom came swingin' over with a rush. It caught Tiny full in the stomach an' 'e was overboard before 'e could open 'is mouth to yell.
"'You done that a' purpose,' shouted Craddock, an' the nex' minute 'e an' I were at it 'ammer an' tongs... 'E was a big man, too, an' it might 'ave gone 'ard with me if I 'adn't managed to unship the tiller an' crack 'im with it over the 'ead. That finish 'im, an' 'e went over the side as sweet an' gentle as a bag o' flour. I made land alone an hour or two later, an' worked back to London in a cork boat from Bilbao."
The man before us was sinking fast. His long recital had drained his energy, but his little twinkling eyes showed relief at the telling of his tale. Mad he must surely be, yet the story of his crimes at least was likely to be true... Cohen spoke from the growing shadow with a sneer.
"And the rubies; what of them?" he gibed.
Nightmare Jack nodded, and over his face there spread a little, twisted smile that was at the same time a snarl of hate.
"Aye," he muttered, "the rubies, by Gar, what of them? Reckon they lost all their juice time they come to me. Reckon they must 'ave done... But anyway I was to keep 'em shorter than I figured. Leetle did I think when I scuttled the brig and when I put first Tiny an' then Craddock over the side of the sloop that there was one' waitin' for me at 'ome to rob me o' the stones I'd bought so dear. Like some beeg, dirty ghost 'e stood smilin' upon the quay, an' when I stepped ashore 'e put 'is arm through mine, an' speakin' so smooth an' soft. 'Hello, Jack,' 'e says. 'You're back quick. Where's all your mates?..."
"At first I only give 'im a stone
or two to keep 'im quiet, an' then, not satisfied with that, 'Let's go shares, Jack,' 'e says, 'an' I promise you no 'arm'll come to you.' 'E looked into my eyes as I gave 'im 'alf the rubies, an' I knew 'im then for 'oo 'e was, an' that I should 'ave to give 'im all whenever 'e might nod 'is 'ead.
"Five year 'an more 'e followed me easy, 'oldin' me in play like a fish at a line's end, an' all that time 'e never breathed 'is name or dropped an 'int about 'is past, for 'e knew I 'ad no need to ask. An' when 'e smiled an' tapped 'is cheek where the stain 'ad been an' talked so slick an' sweet I would call to mind the man that 'ad been missin' from the ten, an' the fellow that Toby 'ad seen squirmin' in the evenin' light upon the docks, an' I knew that 'e 'ad but to lift 'is arm an' point to turn me too into the crawlin', dirty thing 'e was 'imself.
"For you see, Sirs, that was the way it worked with 'im, the devil in the rubies, an' on what 'ad run like poison into Toby Charteris 'e could only thrive an' batten as if it were 'is natural food... An' then, when all the stones 'ad gone, five years or more ago, 'e went as well, but till this night the look of 'is eyes, an' the sound of 'is voice, an' the very smell of 'is body 'ave never left me, an' every time I stare at myself in the leetle glass upon the nail I wonder if there isn't a yellow stain that only other men can see..."
His voice for some time had been growing weaker, but beyond this I had noted the gradual onset and the slow completion of another change. As his story passed from a fantastic pouring-out of crime and terror and turned more and more upon that sinister Companion who seemed to dominate its later stages, it was easy to see where his horror truly lay. For at first, despite the violence and the power of his telling, there had been something almost borrowed and unreal about his tale, reminding one of the precision of some well-drilled schoolboy who recites his horrors second-hand. Latterly, however, as his eyes had stared out into that dim corner where Gilchrist sat and listened, the slow clenching and unclenching of his hands and the alternate race and falter of his words had half prepared us all for what was still to come.
Crabbe, too, had marked the growing nervousness of the dying man, and he spoke now with a curious, eager tenseness apparent in his tones.
"And since that time you dream?" said he.
"Aye," whispered Nightmare Jack. "Since then I dream. Ah, 'ow I dream...! Got 'em bad I 'ave... But as for that, by Gar, so 'as 'e! Sometimes, when 'e's told me things, I've seen the fear spread in 'is face, an' it's been meat an' drink to me, an' to-night, Sirs, we finish quits, though 'e thought to be the one to put me to my sleep..."
His voice, from which but a moment ago the growing weakness seemed to have stolen all the strength, suddenly rang out in a harsh and triumphant yell which tailed off horribly into a sickening choke of terror. With a display of strength nothing short of marvellous in his exhaustion and his pain he had lifted himself to a sitting posture in the bed and now stared with staring eyeballs at the shadowy form of Gilchrist. Nightmare Jack had raised one hand before his face in a curious, despairing, warding motion, and from behind it, in such an access of mingled hate and dread as I pray heaven I may never hear again, his last words crept out upon an appalling, strangled cry, half whisper and half shriek:
"Save me; Save me from their bloody Nark... The man 'oo speaks like a girl an' smells like a goat... The cat 'as..."
All at once he stopped and fell back against the pillow. Then, as he mouthed and swallowed in a vain effort to continue, our gaze turned to the pallid, lurching figure that had risen from the corner's gloom.
Gilchrist, he whom men called the Nurse, that indecent thing of whose employ the very vilest were ashamed even while they ate his meat, was staggering and swaying in the centre of the room, and whilst with one hand he still pressed the handkerchief against his wound, with the other he pointed at the writhing form upon the bed.
For a silent moment the two faced each other. Then, with his glazing eyes still fixed on his tormentor, Nightmare Jack: dragged from its station at its pillow the huge, complacent body of the cat. With a last flicker of strength he tore at his shirt downwards from the neck and drew one of the animal's front paws in a cruel, jagged line across his heart. After about a second the blood started from his chest in a zigzag, crimson track, and, with a grin of triumph on his face, his head fell back against the wall, and he slid down dead into the bed.
A little later Gilchrist collapsed in a faint upon the floor.
V.
Never a word did the three of us speak as we bore the body of Nightmare Jack out into the dusk where our boat lay waiting, and it was some minutes after we had let it drop over the stern into the seethe and huddle of the flowing tide that Crabbe, looking up slowly from his oar, said:
"What's happened to the other one? Why did he give us the slip? Do you think after he'd come out of his faint? He followed us down the stairs all right, and we waited for him long enough."
"Too long," said Cohen. "We wait for him no more. His game's been played with us too long. To-morrow night he sleeps with the man he's driven mad..."
It was only a little later, however, as we were passing above Notman's Wharf, that Crabbe drove his oar into something soft and uttered a startled cry. The light from the lantern which I held out over his shoulder flickered for an instant on a whitish object that bobbed and dipped grotesquely in the suck of water at our stern and then faded back along our wake into the blackness of the night. It was a body floating up stream with the making tide, and one glance had been enough for us to recognise the face.
"Gilchrist – as I live!" whispered Cohen. "Now how, in heaven's name–"
Just then the cat Pongo, which had jumped with us into the boat as we put off, uttered a faint miaou, and Cohen swore.
"Of course!" cried he. "The cat! I see it now. Gilchrist must have fainted again and fallen into the river and been carried ahead of us by the tide before we managed to get clear. That was a clever trick of Jack's. I was thinking it must have been more than an ordinary scratch..."
"Why," said Crabbe. "What do you mean?"
"Mean?" repeated Cohen with a little laugh. "Why, that Jack had seen us coming and him with us. He made his preparations, that was all. I saw the cat's feet leave blue marks upon the bed. Its claws were poisoned."
Ten years ago to-day; Crabbe and Cohen gone their ways, and I alone left who can remember the doings of that night to wonder what might be the darker matters that lay behind a madman's ravings. Time passes quickly... And it is strange now soon things are forgotten on the river.
PLAYING WITH FIRE
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
I cannot pretend to say what occurred on the 14th of April last at No. 17 Badderly Gardens. Put down in black and white, my surmise might seem too crude, too grotesque, for serious consideration. And yet that something did occur, and that it was of a nature which will leave its mark upon every one of us for the rest of our lives, is as certain as the unanimous testimony of five witnesses can make it. I will not enter into any argument or speculation. I will only give a plain statement, which will be submitted to John Moir, Harvey Deacon, and Mrs. Delamere, and withheld from publication unless they are prepared to corroborate every detail. I cannot obtain the sanction of Paul Le Duc, for he appears to have left the country.
It was John Moir (the well-known senior partner of Moir, Moir, and Sanderson) who had originally turned our attention to occult subjects. He had, like many very hard and practical men of business, a mystic side to his nature, which had led him to the examination, and eventually to the acceptance, of those elusive phenomena which are grouped together with much that is foolish, and much that is fraudulent, under the common heading of spiritualism. His researches which had begun with an open mind, ended unhappily in dogma, and he became as positive and fanatical as any other bigot. He represented in our little group the body of men who have turned these singular phenomena into a new religion.
Mrs. Delamere, our medium, was his sister, the wife of Delamere, the rising sculptor. Our experience had shown us that to w
ork on these subjects without a medium was as futile as for an astronomer to make observations without a telescope. On the other hand, the introduction of a paid medium was hateful to all of us. Was it not obvious that he or she would feel bound to return some result for money received, and that the temptation to fraud would be an overpowering one? No phenomena could be relied upon which were produced at a guinea an hour. But, fortunately, Moir had discovered that his sister was mediumistic – in other words, that she was a battery of that animal magnetic force which is the only form of energy which is subtle enough to be acted upon from the spiritual plane as well as from our own material one. Of course, when I say this, I do not mean to beg the question; but I am simply indicating the theories upon which we were ourselves, rightly or wrongly, explaining what we saw. The lady came, not altogether with the approval of her husband, and though she never gave indications of any very great psychic force, we were able, at least, to obtain those usual phenomena of message-tilting which are at the same time so puerile and so inexplicable. Every Sunday evening we met in Harvey Deacon's studio at Badderly Gardens, the next house to the corner of Merton Park Road.
Harvey Deacon's imaginative work in art would prepare anyone to find that he was an ardent lover of everything which was outre and sensational. A certain picturesqueness in the study of the occult had been the quality which had originally attracted him to it, but his attention was speedily arrested by some of those phenomena to which I have referred, and he was coming rapidly to the conclusion that what he had looked upon as an amusing romance and an after-dinner entertainment was really a very formidable reality. He is a man with a remarkably clear and logical brain – a true descendant of his ancestor, the well-known Scottish professor – and he represented in our small circle the critical element, the man who has no prejudices, is prepared to follow facts as far as he can see them, and refuses to theorise in advance of his data. His caution annoyed Moir as much as the latter's robust faith amused Deacon, but each in his own way was equally keen upon the matter.
