Unbound
It is not worth while describing the next few days. They were quite or
almost colourless. Once each four and twenty hours, Belleville, taking
sound precautions, released me for a short while from my prison chair
to let me stretch my limbs and in the interests of keeping me alive for
his own purposes. We had very little conversation, for he had fallen
into a morose and gloomy mood, the result of an attack of insomnia. In
answer to direct questions I learned that Sir Robert Ottley's funeral
had passed without incident, but that Miss Ottley's violent grief had
been succeeded by a long stupor. She was being nursed by a creature
of Belleville's, an old Frenchwoman named Elise Lorraine in whom he
evidently reposed a deal of confidence. Belleville spent most of his
time at work in the laboratory, but what he did I could not see, for he
conducted his labours behind my chair. On one occasion he gave way to
a savage fit of passion, and without any cause whatever that I could
perceive, he broke a number of glass implements upon the floor. Another
time, having cut his hand in some experiment, he revenged himself by
flogging me with a piece of whalebone until my flesh wherever he could
reach it was covered with weals and blisters. He was not a nice man to
live with and my hatred of him grew daily more intense. But perforce
I was civil to him. On the eighth day he entered the room with a
chalk-white face. I knew at once that something had happened; but I was
not to learn what it was immediately. He disappeared forthwith behind
my chair and for ten minutes stamped about swearing like a pagan.
Then the lights went out of a sudden and he departed in the dark. He
returned about four hours later, but I did not see him enter, although
he put on the lights immediately. I heard him pass my chair; that
was all. But a few seconds later a sharp and most acridly irritating
odour filled the room, and soon afterwards he came forward and sank
into his accustomed chair, opposite to mine. He looked positively
ghastly. "To-morrow morning England will mourn the loss of her greatest
physician," he announced in quivering tones. "Sir Philip Lang has just
committed suicide."
"What!" I cried in deep astonishment. "Sir Philip Lang!"
He bared his teeth. "The world will think so," he snarled. "But in
reality--but there, you shall judge. This afternoon without giving me
notice the fool came to this house, forced his way into the sick room
and had a long private conversation with May Ottley. I do not know
to what conclusion he came, but she must have persuaded him of her
sanity, for he ordered Elise to take her out for a walk; and if it had
not been that Elise refused to obey him pending my arrival there would
have been a pretty kettle of fish for me to fry. However, he won't
trouble me again."
"You murdered him!" I gasped.
"Like an artist," said Belleville. "I stole upon him while he sat
in his private sitting-room at supper and, standing opposite to him
unseen, I reached out and poured some aconite into his wine. He was
dead inside a quarter hour, and I took care that he made no outcry. The
verdict should be suicide, I think. Don't you?"
With that he got up and left me.
That night while I slept he dosed me with chloroform, and while I was
senseless he drew over my clothes a suit of rubber overalls. He also
did whatever was necessary to render me invisible, and he gagged me
with a piece of steel thrust under my tongue and secured around my
throat and neck with fine wire that bit deep in the flesh. I awoke
groaning with agony to find that I was stretched out on the naked
framework of an iron bed.
Belleville stood over me grasping Miss Ottley by the hand. When I saw
her I stopped groaning as if by instinct. I knew at once that she
did not see anything except the bed. She looked well, but tragically
sorrowful and wild. She was staring as it were through me.
"You see nothing," said Belleville's hollow voice, "but his spirit lies
there for all that. It is in my power and cannot escape without I set
it free. You know my price. It is for you to rule his fate, through me
if so you wish.
"What!" he continued, "do you not believe--well, then, look now!"
Of a sudden he flashed a blue lighted lanthorn into my face and he did
something else which sent a thousand stinging currents of electric
anguish quivering along my nerves. I uttered a shriek, but the gag
stifled it to a hissing wail, and then I fell to breathing groans.
Hell can have no worse torments than that villain had devised for my
undoing. Had my mouth been unfettered I should have besought the woman
I adored for death at any price for rest of pain. As it was I prayed
her with my eyes--and she saw and took a message.
"Let him go!" she sobbed, "and I will marry you. Oh, this is horrible!"
On instant the blue light faded out and a blessed heaven of diminished
torture gave me peace.
Belleville took from his breast a naked dagger which he put into the
girl's hand. "Strike, then!" he said, "Strike here," and he put his
finger on my breast.
The devil proposed to make his innocent victim a murderess. I saw his
purpose, and with every atom of my strength I groaned. It was the only
warning I could send.
But I had played right into Belleville's hands.
"Hear him implore you!" cried Belleville.
"Oh! I can't, I can't," she wailed.
"'Tis only a spirit--and it's the only way," he protested warmly.
Miss Ottley swung around suddenly and drove the dagger at his heart,
but he had been expecting it. He caught her wrist and laughed. Then all
my anguish recommenced. In the midst of it, made desperate, the girl
leaned right across the bed and struck. The blade glanced down upon a
rib and deeply pierced my side. Providence, surely, had directed the
blow. She withdrew the dagger, then screamed aloud to see it dripping
with blood. Belleville caught her in his arms and bore her roughly
back. He bent her body on a table until she was as helpless as a dove,
then took the blade and drew the horrid thing across her lips; so they
were carmined with my blood.
"By this and this you'll remember you are mine," he said, and kissed
her lips till his were bloody, too. Then the two stared deep into each
other's eyes.
"I've killed his body; you, his soul," said Belleville. "We're well
mated, you and I. There--I've no longer any fear you'll hurt yourself.
You'll be henceforth too much afraid of him to die."
He let her go, and stood away from her. She swayed erect, then came
forward till she stood beside me. I held my very breath for fear that
she would hear. I don't know why.
"It is all a trick--a cruel, devilish trick. There's nothing there!"
said the girl, her bosom heaving as she spoke.
Belleville laughed like a hyena. "Feel--if you dare!" he cried.
But she took him at his word. Her hands went out and, guided by a dark
blotch which, as afterwards I learned she saw, she put them on my wound
and drew them swiftly back ensanguined. Then horror settled on her like
a black cloud on a mountain top. She turned about with one loud gasping
sigh and sank down in a lifeless heap at Belleville's feet.
Soon afterwards I swooned, too, from pain and loss of blood. When I
awoke my wound was neatly bandaged, and I was once more seated in my
chair.
Belleville sat opposite smoking a cigar. He was dressed very smartly
in a frock suit and a tall hat was set jauntily on his brow. He wore a
geranium in his buttonhole. His face was wreathed in smiles. A bottle
of champagne was set before him on a table and he sipped at a glass
with an air of triumphant good-humour.
I found that I could speak; my gag had been removed.
"Water!" I implored him.
He started, then pressed forward with his glass. "Where the devil is
your mouth?" he said.
He could not see me, that was plain.
"Here!" said I. "Water."
"It is my wedding morn--and you shall toast me in wine or go
thirsting," he rapped out.
Then he found my lips and I drank life into my veins. I have never
tasted draught one-half so glorious.
"I was married less than an hour ago," he said, "at a registrar's
office. She's no longer Miss Ottley, Pinsent."
I was silent.
"Do you hear me, man?" he demanded.
"I hear," I answered.
He nodded his head and smiled. "I suppose you are wondering why you're
still alive, eh?"
"You'll die when I die," I muttered wearily. "You are afraid to kill
me, that is why."
"Bosh!" he flashed back. "I have a better reason far. To-morrow she
will be my wife indeed--a maid no longer--Pinsent. It was worth keeping
you alive to gloat on that."
"Oh! I see."
"But you don't see everything, Pinsent. She insists upon seeing your
body to-day in order to be sure that you are dead."
"Ah!"
"She still has a lingering doubt that I have tricked her, and she has
sworn on the cross that unless I produce your corpse for her inspection
she will take her own life rather than--you can guess what, Pinsent."
"Yes--I can guess."
"So you see the time draws nigh for you to die."
"God only knows."
The villain frowned. "But before you go you must do something for me."
"And that?"
"You must write her a letter telling her that your only hope of soul
resurrection and salvation lies in her obeying me. She now considers me
a dangerous magician, but I want her to regard me as a sort of deity."
"I will not do it, Belleville. You ought to know me better by this."
"I think you will," said he. "That is if you really care for her. You
see it will save her a lot of--let's call it inconvenience. With such a
weapon as your message I can rule her kindly. But rule her in any case
I shall. If you deny me I'll gag you this moment so you can't make a
sound, then I'll bring her here and beat her as I would a dog. How will
you like that?"
"I'll write the letter," I said huskily.
A few minutes later the thing was done, and I had signed my name to
the atrocious expressions of his demand. To transcribe them I am too
ashamed.
"What now?" I asked.
"The last scene in the last act," said he, as he put the letter in
his pocket. "I may tell you that I intend always to keep your body by
me--for her to look at--if she ever shows a mind to mutiny."
"In spirits?" I questioned.
"The embalming oil of the princes of old Egypt. I found the receipt in
Ptahmes' tomb," he answered. "I propose to convert you into a mummy."
With that he took off his hat and coat, rolled up his sleeves and put
on a huge oil-skin apron. "I'll not kill you till the last moment
necessary," he observed. "In fact, you'll be half-mummy before you
die; I have a curiosity to discover if the process of substitution is
painful. I rather think it must be."
He moved over as he spoke to the sarcophagus and began to shift the
objects that sealed up the mouth. It took him some minutes to do so,
and as he put down the couch, last of all, one of the castors crashed
upon his toe. He cursed the misfortune like a madman and danced
about the floor on one foot like a dervish, winding up by striking
me brutally with closed fist on the lips. That gave him back his
self-control.
"I'll teach you to laugh at me," he growled. Then he returned to his
work and stooping over the great coffin he hauled out the lifeless
mummy that had rested there so long. For an instant I glimpsed the
strange dead features of the dust of Ptahmes which so strikingly
resembled the effigy carven on the lid of the sarcophagus and also the
Arab who had twice in Egypt attempted to destroy me. Then Belleville
carelessly threw the thing upon the couch; and traversed the room to
where stood three glass jars filled with a dark viscous fluid. One by
one he rolled these on end across the floor till all three stood beside
the coffin. Afterwards he disappeared behind my chair, returning soon,
his head covered with a long breathing mask. I watched him--one may
guess with what passionate attention. He unscrewed the stopper of the
nearest jar, seized the thing bodily in his arms and poured out the
contents into the sarcophagus. A curious cloud-like steam arose that
hazed the prospect, but soon it dissipated. The air was filled with the
perfume I had first smelt in the cave temple of the Hill of Rakh. But
it was not altogether overpowering. It made my pulses throb and brought
a great rush of blood to my head and hands and feet much as would the
scent of amyl nitrate. But it did not take away my senses. Belleville,
protected by his mask, was in no way affected. He quickly unstoppered
the second jar, and added its contents to the first. Then he turned and
approached me, taking off his helmet as he came. The action apprised
me that the wonderful perfume had almost died away. There was now a
healthy and stimulating odour in the room that resembled boiling tar.
Evidently the two jars had contained different chemicals. A loud,
seething, bubbling sound was plainly to be heard; it came from the
sarcophagus.
Belleville sat down and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "We
must give the stuff ten minutes to mix," he said and, taking out his
watch, he glanced at the time. "It's twenty past eleven," he remarked.
"You'll begin to mummify at the half hour precisely, Pinsent, so if you
are a religious man you'd best compose your soul in prayer."
I am not ashamed to say that I followed his advice. I closed my eyes
and asked the Omnipotent for remission of my sins. And since it seemed
to me that my hour had come, I resolutely put aside my detestation
of the monster who designed to murder me, and I even asked for his
forgiveness, too. Then a great, deep, splendid peace mantled over me,
and for the first time in my life I truly realised the littleness of
man's existence and the majesty of resignation. It was almost worth
while to go through all I had been compelled to endure to experience
at the end that mood of grand, calm dignity. I felt almost sublimely
detached from my surroundings. I opened my eyes at last and said with
perfect calm:
"I am ready, Belleville."
He stood up and stretched out his arms, yawning widely. Then of a
sudden everything was dark.
"What in Hell----?" shouted Belleville. I heard him rush forward
cursing angrily, then he stumbled and fell headlong to the floor amidst
a crash of glass. In the same instant unseen hands fumbled over me. My
bonds suddenly relaxed and I was free. I stood up, stiff but quivering
in every nerve. There followed a rasping sound, a match flickered into
light, and I saw Belleville rising from the ruins of a broken jar. He
held the lucifer above his head, and it showed standing at an angle
between us the tall frame of the Arab of the cave temple at Rakh.
Belleville ripped out an oath. There came a blinding flash of light and
the deafening report of a revolver. I staggered from the chair to the
wall and leaned against it, helpless as a babe. The echoes were still
thundering in rolling waves of brain-dazing sound from wall to wall
when the pitch blackness of the room was again relieved by the glare
of electricity. Belleville had succeeded in turning on the lights. He
stood by the door peering all about him. For a moment I thought all was
up. I was free, certainly, but my muscles were so cramped and tautened
that I could hardly move a finger. I was not fit to contend against
a breath of wind, let alone a burly ruffian like the Doctor. But the
next instant I remembered I was still invisible. I could not see my own
hand held before me, and I had immediate proof that he was unable to
perceive me.
"Where are you, Pinsent? are you hurt?" he cried.
I did not answer, but, following his glance, I looked at the couch and
there I saw what utterly astounded me. The mummy of Ptahmes lay upon
the couch in exactly the same attitude as when Belleville had flung
it there aside from the sarcophagus. Who, then, or what, had set me
free? I examined the apartment eagerly, but saw nothing living save
Belleville, who with cocked revolver thrust out before him now stepped
forward cautiously into the room, waving his arms about him as he
walked, and muttering, as he walked, through clenched teeth a string of
angry blasphemies.