Danger! and Other Stories Read online

  IV--OF THE MAN WHO CAME IN THE NIGHT

  The night set in gusty and tempestuous, and the moon was all girt withragged clouds. The wind blew in melancholy gusts, sobbing and sighingover the moor, and setting all the gorse bushes agroaning. From time totime a little sputter of rain pattered up against the window-pane. I satuntil near midnight, glancing over the fragment on immortality byIamblichus, the Alexandrian platonist, of whom the Emperor Julian saidthat he was posterior to Plato in time but not in genius. At last,shutting up my book, I opened my door and took a last look at the drearyfell and still more dreary sky. As I protruded my head, a swoop of windcaught me and sent the red ashes of my pipe sparkling and dancing throughthe darkness. At the same moment the moon shone brilliantly out frombetween two clouds, and I saw, sitting on the hillside, not two hundredyards from my door, the man who called himself the surgeon of GasterFell. He was squatted among the heather, his elbows upon his knees, andhis chin resting upon his hands, as motionless as a stone, with his gazefixed steadily upon the door of my dwelling.

  At the sight of this ill-omened sentinel, a chill of horror and of fearshot through me, for his gloomy and mysterious associations had cast aglamour round the man, and the hour and place were in keeping with hissinister presence. In a moment, however, a manly glow of resentment andself-confidence drove this petty emotion from my mind, and I strodefearlessly in his direction. He rose as I approached and faced me, withthe moon shining on his grave, bearded face and glittering on hiseyeballs. "What is the meaning of this?" I cried, as I came upon him."What right have you to play the spy on me?"

  I could see the flush of anger rise on his face. "Your stay in thecountry has made you forget your manners," he said. "The moor is free toall."

  "You will say next that my house is free to all," I said, hotly. "Youhave had the impertience to ransack it in my absence this afternoon."

  He started, and his features showed the most intense excitement. "Iswear to you that I had no hand in it!" he cried. "I have never set footin your house in my life. Oh, sir, sir, if you will but believe me,there is a danger hanging over you, and you would do well to be careful."

  "I have had enough of you," I said. "I saw that cowardly blow you struckwhen you thought no human eye rested upon you. I have been to yourcottage, too, and know all that it has to tell. If there is a law inEngland, you shall hang for what you have done. As to me, I am an oldsoldier, sir, and I am armed. I shall not fasten my door. But if you orany other villain attempt to cross my threshold it shall be at your ownrisk." With these words, I swung round upon my heel and strode into mycabin.

  For two days the wind freshened and increased, with constant squalls ofrain until on the third night the most furious storm was raging which Ican ever recollect in England. I felt that it was positively useless togo to bed, nor could I concentrate my mind sufficiently to read a book. Iturned my lamp half down to moderate the glare, and leaning back in mychair, I gave myself up to reverie. I must have lost all perception oftime, for I have no recollection how long I sat there on the borderlandbetwixt thought and slumber. At last, about 3 or possibly 4 o'clock, Icame to myself with a start--not only came to myself, but with everysense and nerve upon the strain. Looking round my chamber in the dimlight, I could not see anything to justify my sudden trepidation. Thehomely room, the rain-blurred window and the rude wooden door were all asthey had been. I had begun to persuade myself that some half-formeddream had sent that vague thrill through my nerves, when in a moment Ibecame conscious of what it was. It was a sound--the sound of a humanstep outside my solitary cottage.

  Amid the thunder and the rain and the wind I could hear it--a dull,stealthy footfall, now on the grass, now on the stones--occasionallystopping entirely, then resumed, and ever drawing nearer. I satbreathlessly, listening to the eerie sound. It had stopped now at myvery door, and was replaced by a panting and gasping, as of one who hastravelled fast and far.

  By the flickering light of the expiring lamp I could see that the latchof my door was twitching, as though a gentle pressure was exerted on itfrom without. Slowly, slowly, it rose, until it was free of the catch,and then there was a pause of a quarter minute or more, while I still eatsilent with dilated eyes and drawn sabre. Then, very slowly, the doorbegan to revolve upon its hinges, and the keen air of the night camewhistling through the slit. Very cautiously it was pushed open, so thatnever a sound came from the rusty hinges. As the aperture enlarged, Ibecame aware of a dark, shadowy figure upon my threshold, and of a paleface that looked in at me. The features were human, but the eyes werenot. They seemed to burn through the darkness with a greenish brilliancyof their own; and in their baleful, shifty glare I was conscious of thevery spirit of murder. Springing from my chair, I had raised my nakedsword, when, with a wild shouting, a second figure dashed up to my door.At its approach my shadowy visitant uttered a shrill cry, and fled awayacross the fells, yelping like a beaten hound.

  Tingling with my recent fear, I stood at my door, peering through thenight with the discordant cry of the fugitives still ringing in my ears.At that moment a vivid flash of lightning illuminated the whole landscapeand made it as clear as day. By its light I saw far away upon thehillside two dark figures pursuing each other with extreme rapidityacross the fells. Even at that distance the contrast between them forbidall doubt as to their identity. The first was the small, elderly man,whom I had supposed to be dead; the second was my neighbour, the surgeon.For an instant they stood out clear and hard in the unearthly light; inthe next, the darkness had closed over them, and they were gone. As Iturned to re-enter my chamber, my foot rattled against something on mythreshold. Stooping, I found it was a straight knife, fashioned entirelyof lead, and so soft and brittle that it was a strange choice for aweapon. To render it more harmless, the top had been cut square off. Theedge, however, had been assiduously sharpened against a stone, as wasevident from the markings upon it, so that it was still a dangerousimplement in the grasp of a determined man.

  And what was the meaning of it all? you ask. Many a drama which I havecome across in my wandering life, some as strange and as striking as thisone, has lacked the ultimate explanation which you demand. Fate is agrand weaver of tales; but she ends them, as a rule, in defiance of allartistic laws, and with an unbecoming want of regard for literarypropriety. As it happens, however, I have a letter before me as I writewhich I may add without comment, and which will clear all that may remaindark.

  "KIRKBY LUNATIC ASYLUM, "_September_ 4_th_, 1885.

  "SIR,--I am deeply conscious that some apology and explanation is due to you for the very startling and, in your eyes, mysterious events which have recently occurred, and which have so seriously interfered with the retired existence which you desire to lead. I should have called upon you on the morning after the recapture of my father, but my knowledge of your dislike to visitors and also of--you will excuse my saying it--your very violent temper, led me to think that it was better to communicate with you by letter.

  "My poor father was a hard-working general practitioner in Birmingham, where his name is still remembered and respected. About ten years ago he began to show signs of mental aberration, which we were inclined to put down to overwork and the effects of a sunstroke. Feeling my own incompetence to pronounce upon a case of such importance, I at once sought the highest advice in Birmingham and London. Among others we consulted the eminent alienist, Mr. Fraser Brown, who pronounced my father's case to be intermittent in its nature, but dangerous during the paroxysms. 'It may take a homicidal, or it may take a religious turn,' he said; 'or it may prove to be a mixture of both. For months he may be as well as you or me, and then in a moment he may break out. You will incur a great responsibility if you leave him without supervision.'

  "I need say no more, sir. You will understand the terrible task which has fallen upon my poor sister and me in endeavouring to save my father from the asylum which in his sane m
oments filled him with horror. I can only regret that your peace has been disturbed by our misfortunes, and I offer you in my sister's name and my own our apologies."

  "Yours truly, "J. CAMERON."