Round the Fire Stories

Sir Dominick pushed the cigar-box over to me, and we smoked for somelittle time in silence. That huge bony hand of his was twitching as heraised it with his cheroot to his lips, and I felt that the man’s nerveswere vibrating like fiddle-strings. My instincts told me that he was onthe verge of some intimate confidence, and I feared to speak lest Ishould interrupt it. At last he turned towards me with a spasmodicgesture like a man who throws his last scruple to the winds.

“From the little that I have seen of you it appears to me, Dr.Hardacre,” said he, “that you are the very man I have wanted to meet.”

“I am delighted to hear it, sir.”

“Your head seems to be cool and steady. You will acquit me of any desireto flatter you, for the circumstances are too serious to permit ofinsincerities. You have some special knowledge upon these subjects, andyou evidently view them from that philosophical standpoint which robsthem of all vulgar terror. I presume that the sight of an apparitionwould not seriously discompose you?”

“I think not, sir.”

“Would even interest you, perhaps?”

“Most intensely.”

“As a psychical observer, you would probably investigate it in asimpersonal a fashion as an astronomer investigates a wandering comet?”

“Precisely.”

He gave a heavy sigh.

“Believe me, Dr. Hardacre, there was a time when I could have spoken asyou do now. My nerve was a by-word in India. Even the Mutiny never shookit for an instant. And yet you see what I am reduced to—the mosttimorous man, perhaps, in all this county of Wiltshire. Do not speak toobravely upon this subject, or you may find yourself subjected to aslong-drawn a test as I am—a test which can only end in the madhouse orthe grave.”

I waited patiently until he should see fit to go farther in hisconfidence. His preamble had, I need not say, filled me with interestand expectation.

“For some years, Dr. Hardacre,” he continued, “my life and that of mywife have been made miserable by a cause which is so grotesque that itborders upon the ludicrous. And yet familiarity has never made it moreeasy to bear—on the contrary, as time passes my nerves become more wornand shattered by the constant attrition. If you have no physical fears,Dr. Hardacre, I should very much value your opinion upon this phenomenonwhich troubles us so.”

“For what it is worth my opinion is entirely at your service. May I askthe nature of the phenomenon?”

“I think that your experiences will have a higher evidential value ifyou are not told in advance what you may expect to encounter. You areyourself aware of the quibbles of unconscious cerebration and subjectiveimpressions with which a scientific sceptic may throw a doubt upon yourstatement. It would be as well to guard against them in advance.”

“What shall I do, then?”

“I will tell you. Would you mind following me this way?” He led me outof the dining-room and down a long passage until we came to a terminaldoor. Inside there was a large bare room fitted as a laboratory, withnumerous scientific instruments and bottles. A shelf ran along one side,upon which there stood a long line of glass jars containing pathologicaland anatomical specimens.

“You see that I still dabble in some of my old studies,” said SirDominick. “These jars are the remains of what was once a most excellentcollection, but unfortunately I lost the greater part of them when myhouse was burned down in Bombay in ‘92. It was a most unfortunate affairfor me—in more ways than one. I had examples of many rare conditions,and my splenic collection was probably unique. These are the survivors.”

I glanced over them, and saw that they really were of a very great valueand rarity from a pathological point of view: bloated organs, gapingcysts, distorted bones, odious parasites—a singular exhibition of theproducts of India.

“There is, as you see, a small settee here,” said my host. “It was farfrom our intention to offer a guest so meagre an accommodation, butsince affairs have taken this turn, it would be a great kindness uponyour part if you would consent to spend the night in this apartment. Ibeg that you will not hesitate to let me know if the idea should be atall repugnant to you.”

“On the contrary,” I said, “it is most acceptable.”

“My own room is the second on the left, so that if you should feel thatyou are in need of company a call would always bring me to your side.”

“I trust that I shall not be compelled to disturb you.”

“It is unlikely that I shall be asleep. I do not sleep much. Do nothesitate to summon me.”

And so with this agreement we joined Lady Holden in the drawing-room andtalked of lighter things.

It was no affectation upon my part to say that the prospect of mynight’s adventure was an agreeable one. I have no pretence to greaterphysical courage than my neighbours, but familiarity with a subject robsit of those vague and undefined terrors which are the most appalling tothe imaginative mind. The human brain is capable of only one strongemotion at a time, and if it be filled with curiosity or scientificenthusiasm, there is no room for fear. It is true that I had my uncle’sassurance that he had himself originally taken this point of view, but Ireflected that the breakdown of his nervous system might be due to hisforty years in India as much as to any psychical experiences which hadbefallen him. I at least was sound in nerve and brain, and it was withsomething of the pleasurable thrill of anticipation with which thesportsman takes his position beside the haunt of his game that I shutthe laboratory door behind me, and partially undressing, lay down uponthe rug-covered settee.

It was not an ideal atmosphere for a bedroom. The air was heavy withmany chemical odours, that of methylated spirit predominating. Nor werethe decorations of my chamber very sedative. The odious line of glassjars with their relics of disease and suffering stretched in front of myvery eyes. There was no blind to the window, and a three-quarter moonstreamed its white light into the room, tracing a silver square withfiligree lattices upon the opposite wall. When I had extinguished mycandle this one bright patch in the midst of the general gloom hadcertainly an eerie and discomposing aspect. A rigid and absolute silencereigned throughout the old house, so that the low swish of the branchesin the garden came softly and soothingly to my ears. It may have beenthe hypnotic lullaby of this gentle susurrus, or it may have been theresult of my tiring day, but after many dozings and many efforts toregain my clearness of perception, I fell at last into a deep anddreamless sleep.

I was awakened by some sound in the room, and I instantly raised myselfupon my elbow on the couch. Some hours had passed, for the square patchupon the wall had slid downwards and sideways until it lay obliquely atthe end of my bed. The rest of the room was in deep shadow. At first Icould see nothing, presently, as my eyes became accustomed to the faintlight, I was aware, with a thrill which all my scientific absorptioncould not entirely prevent, that something was moving slowly along theline of the wall. A gentle, shuffling sound, as of soft slippers, cameto my ears, and I dimly discerned a human figure walking stealthily fromthe direction of the door. As it emerged into the patch of moonlight Isaw very clearly what it was and how it was employed. It was a man,short and squat, dressed in some sort of dark-grey gown, which hungstraight from his shoulders to his feet. The moon shone upon the side ofhis face, and I saw that it was chocolate-brown in colour, with a ballof black hair like a woman’s at the back of his head. He walked slowly,and his eyes were cast upwards towards the line of bottles whichcontained those gruesome remnants of humanity. He seemed to examine eachjar with attention, and then to pass on to the next. When he had come tothe end of the line, immediately opposite my bed, he stopped, faced me,threw up his hands with a gesture of despair, and vanished from mysight.

I have said that he threw up his hands, but I should have said his arms,for as he assumed that attitude of despair I observed a singularpeculiarity abou

t his appearance. He had only one hand! As the sleevesdrooped down from the upflung arms I saw the left plainly, but the rightended in a knobby and unsightly stump. In every other way his appearancewas so natural, and I had both seen and heard him so clearly, that Icould easily have believed that he was an Indian servant of SirDominick’s who had come into my room in search of something. It was onlyhis sudden disappearance which suggested anything more sinister to me.As it was I sprang from my couch, lit a candle, and examined the wholeroom carefully. There were no signs of my visitor, and I was forced toconclude that there had really been something outside the normal laws ofNature in his appearance. I lay awake for the remainder of the night,but nothing else occurred to disturb me.