THE DEAD WALKS
The incident of the flying stone and the broken glass much disquieted
us, and furnished matter of anxious discussion for several days. It
gave us the first hint we had received that the influences that seemed
to be busy about us included any of a malign or violent nature, and
inspired a lively apprehension of other sinister happenings of which it
might be the forerunner. There was, of course, the doubt as to whether
the affair might not be due to human agency; had it stood by itself, no
other idea would have occurred to us:--but although we tried to satisfy
ourselves that some reckless or malicious person was the culprit, the
attendant circumstances seemed to point away from that opinion. The
force with which the missile was hurled indicated that no mischievous
boy could have aimed it, while it appeared incredible that any man
would take the risk of passing the clamorous dogs and crossing the wide
yard to take a point-blank shot at the door--as the direct course of
the stone showed had been done. Nor could it have been thrown from
any considerable distance:--the laundry outhouse before mentioned,
was not more than thirty feet from the door and protected it from any
attack outside that limit. It was the behavior of the dogs, however,
that puzzled us the most. Instead of welcoming our coming, as would
naturally have been the case, they shrunk from the touch of our hands
and gave no heed to our voices, but shook and shivered as if in an ague
fit.
In spite of these facts, the event so much smacked of the material, and
was so opposed in its nature to anything else that had happened, that
we hesitated to attribute it to the agency of unseen powers; and as the
week that followed was free of any alarming incident we decided to keep
it out of the debit column of our account with the "spooks," and give
them the credit of having had no part in it.
* * * * *
It was, I think (although I am uncertain about the exact date) about
a fortnight after the stone-throwing episode, that I came home one
afternoon much earlier than usual; and as my wife met me at the door
I saw at once that look upon her face which had on several occasions
advised me that something quite out of the ordinary had happened
during my absence. It is hardly necessary for me to mention, in view
of the record already made of the experience she had shared with me
in that ill-omened house, that among her notable characteristics
were high courage and self-control. On this occasion, however, her
appearance alarmed me greatly. There was a presence of fear upon her;
she was _distraite_ and nervous, despite her evident effort to appear
unconcerned; and the strange expression which I had often seen when her
gaze seemed to follow the movements of shapes invisible to my grosser
sense, still clouded her eyes.
I did not at once question her, although I was consumed with curiosity,
and tried to quiet her evident, although suppressed, excitement by
talking of the commonplace incidents of my day in town. But it was
apparent that she did not hear a word I said:--indeed, her attitude and
manner were as of one who listened to another voice than mine; and I
soon lapsed into silence and sat watching her with a growing anxiety.
Suddenly the obsession with which she seemed to be contending passed
away:--she turned impulsively to me and cried:
"We must leave this house! I have endured all I can! I will not remain
here another day!"
"I knew that something was wrong the moment I saw you," I said.
"Something very bad has happened--do you want to tell me what it is?"
"Oh, I cannot, I cannot!" she exclaimed. "It is too horrible; it would
frighten you to death if I should tell you!"
"Anything that you have gone through, I ought to be able to hear of,"
I replied. "I think you had better tell me your story, and get it off
your mind, before our friend comes home."
"Oh, he must never know it!" she cried. "Promise me that you will not
tell him!"
"Of course I will not tell him, if you do not wish it," I assented.
"And now let me know what has alarmed you."
During our conversation I had imagined all sorts of terrifying
incidents as having occurred--but my wife's next words sent a shiver
through me.
"Deeming has been here," she said.
"Deeming!" I exclaimed; "that devil!"
"Yes," she replied. "He did not try to harm me, but if there is a Hell
he came from it. Oh, he is so wretched and unhappy! In spite of the
horror of seeing him, I was never so sorry for any creature in all my
life. Just to look at him was enough to make me know what is meant by
'the torments of the damned'--such awful suffering! I shall never get
his sad and frightful face out of my mind!"--and she covered her face
with her hands, as if still seeing the terrific vision that she had
described.
When she had partially recovered her composure, she began at the
beginning and told me the whole story. It so impressed me that, even
at this distance of time, I remember perfectly every detail of the
narration, and almost its every word, and with this recollection I set
it down.
"It was about an hour before you came home," she began, "and I was
sewing at the front window of my room, when I heard the latch of the
gate click. I looked up, and saw that someone was coming into the yard.
It was a man--a peddler, I thought--and I went to the door to tell him
that I did not wish to buy anything. The door was open, although the
outside screen door was shut and bolted. I had no idea at all that it
was not a living human being; but when I got to the door and looked
at the figure, which was standing just inside the gate and facing the
house, I knew it was nothing that belonged to _this world_. It was
misty and indistinct, and I could not make out any details of face or
costume, except that the clothes seemed mean and cheap.
"I don't know how long I stood there," she continued, after a pause;
"but by-and-by the Thing began to come toward me up the walk. It didn't
seem exactly to walk--it just _moved_, I cannot tell you how; and as it
got nearer, although I couldn't distinguish the features, I began to
see the clothes quite clearly."
"What were the clothes like?" I here interrupted.
"They were the strangest-looking things I ever saw on anybody," she
replied. "There was no style or fit to them, and they seemed more
like clothes made of flour sacks than anything else--very coarse
and ungainly. And an odd thing about them was that they had queer
triangular black designs on them here and there. But the cap the figure
wore was the strangest thing of all:--it was of dingy white cloth and
fitted close to the head, and it had a sort of flap hanging down behind
almost to the shoulders:--what did you say?"--for I had uttered a
sudden ejaculation.
"Nothing," I replied:--"please go on."
"Well," she continued, "the figure came up to the two steps leading to
the veranda, and I think, it would have come up to the door; but I
said, 'Stop!' and it stood still where it was. It was still indistinct,
and I felt as though it strained my eyes to see it; the face was vague,
and did not seem like any face I had ever seen before.
"I said: 'Who are you, and what do you want?'
"The Thing held out something it had in its hand, but I couldn't make
out what it was, and made the strangest reply. It said: 'Madame, do you
want to buy some _soap_?'"
"Gracious powers!" I exclaimed:--"It was Deeming?--and he asked you to
buy _soap_?"
"I did not know it was Deeming until later," replied my wife; "but I
have told you what he said in his exact words. What could he mean by
offering to sell me soap?"
"I have an idea about that which I will tell you of presently. But
first let me hear the rest of the story."
"Well," she went on, "I told him I did not want any soap. 'But,' he
said, 'I must sell some, and I beg of you to buy it'--and when I again
refused, his voice took on the saddest, most pathetic tone, and he
said: 'I thought you would. You were kinder to me when you saw me in
the jail.' 'I never saw you before in my life!' I said--for truly I
did not recognize him even then; but he said: 'Oh, yes, you have, and
you tried to get Miss Rounsfell to come and see me.' 'What!' I cried;
'are you Deeming?'--and he said: 'Yes, madame, I am that unfortunate
man.'
"I don't quite know what I said after that. I felt as though I should
die of fright, and I think I screamed to him to go away, that the
thought of his dreadful crimes horrified me so that I could not look
at him, and that he must never come to me again. He looked at me
reproachfully and turned away. I watched him go to the gate, open it
as anyone might have done, and close it after him--then he vanished
instantly, the moment he had got into the street. But I know he'll be
back! He is suffering, and I am the only one he can reach. I don't know
what he wants, but I cannot see him again. It will kill me or drive me
mad if we stay here!"
* * * * *
I certainly felt that I had parted with my own wits by the time this
astounding tale was concluded. It was so awful in its facts and in its
suggestions, its details combined in such a mixture of the hideous and
the grotesque, that I looked anxiously at my wife in the fear that
what I personally knew to have taken place in the house had upset her
mind, and produced this dreadful hallucination. But how to attribute
to hallucination certain items in the story which referred to facts
with which _I_ was acquainted, but of which she was ignorant until her
experience of the afternoon had revealed them to her?
At her express desire I had told her nothing of the execution which I
had witnessed, and she had strictly refrained from reading about it
in the newspapers:--yet she had described accurately, and in all its
details, the garb he wore on the scaffold--the uncouth trousers and
jacket of sacking, stamped with the "Broad Arrow" that marked both it
and its wearer to be the property of the Crown, and the ghastly "death
cap," with its pendent flap behind which was pulled forward and dropped
over his face just before the trap was sprung!
And the _soap_!--that, as I explained to her, seemed the most gruesome
feature of all. My theory regarding it may have been fanciful:--yet
what was this poor bedeviled ghost more likely to have with him than a
sample of the material that had been used upon the rope that hung him,
to make it smooth and pliant, and swift of action in the noose?
But why had he wished to sell it, and what help could he hope to gain
thereby? He had evidently come, not to frighten, but to crave relief
from some distressed condition, and when he failed to gain it he had
gone away disappointed, but in sorrow rather than in anger.
When morning came, after a night of which we spent the greater part in
discussion of this new and disconcerting development, my wife surprised
me by saying that she had changed her mind about leaving the house, and
had decided to remain. I strongly remonstrated against her exposing
herself to a more than possible danger, but she continued firm in her
resolution--said she was convinced that the apparition had no purpose
to harm or even alarm her, and that it might be her duty, as it would
certainly be her effort, if it came again, to ascertain the cause of
its disquiet, and, if possible, remove it.
This decision caused me great uneasiness for several days:--but as the
spectre did not return I began to think that its first visit was also
its last, and began to interest myself anew in the cantrips with which
the house goblins continued to amuse themselves and mystify us.