Mr. Brodribb stretched out his toes on the kerb before the blazing fire
with the air of a man who is by no means insensible to physical comfort.
"You are really an extraordinarily polite fellow, Thorndyke," said he.
He was an elderly man, rosy-gilled, portly, and convivial, to whom a
mass of bushy, white hair, an expansive double chin, and a certain prim
sumptuousness of dress imparted an air of old-world distinction. Indeed,
as he dipped an amethystine nose into his wine-glass, and gazed
thoughtfully at the glowing end of his cigar, he looked the very type of
the well-to-do lawyer of an older generation.
"You are really an extraordinarily polite fellow, Thorndyke," said Mr.
Brodribb.
"I know," replied Thorndyke. "But why this reference to an admitted
fact?"
"The truth has just dawned on me," said the solicitor. "Here am I,
dropping in on you, uninvited and unannounced, sitting in your own
armchair before your fire, smoking your cigars, drinking your
Burgundy--and deuced good Burgundy, too, let me add--and you have not
dropped a single hint of curiosity as to what has brought me here."
"I take the gifts of the gods, you see, and ask no questions," said
Thorndyke.
"Devilish handsome of you, Thorndyke--unsociable beggar like you, too,"
rejoined Mr. Brodribb, a fan of wrinkles spreading out genially from the
corners of his eyes; "but the fact is I have come, in a sense, on
business--always glad of a pretext to look you up, as you know--but I
want to take your opinion on a rather queer case. It is about young
Calverley. You remember Horace Calverley? Well, this is his son. Horace
and I were schoolmates, you know, and after his death the boy, Fred,
hung on to me rather. We're near neighbours down at Weybridge, and very
good friends. I like Fred. He's a good fellow, though cranky, like all
his people."
"What has happened to Fred Calverley?" Thorndyke asked, as the solicitor
paused.
"Why, the fact is," said Mr. Brodribb, "just lately he seems to be going
a bit queer--not mad, mind you--at least, I think not--but undoubtedly
queer. Now, there is a good deal of property, and a good many highly
interested relatives, and, as a natural consequence, there is some talk
of getting him certified. They're afraid he may do something involving
the estate or develop homicidal tendencies, and they talk of possible
suicide--you remember his father's death--but I say that's all bunkum.
The fellow is just a bit cranky, and nothing more."
"What are his symptoms?" asked Thorndyke.
"Oh, he thinks he is being followed about and watched, and he has
delusions; sees himself in the glass with the wrong face, and that sort
of thing, you know."
"You are not highly circumstantial," Thorndyke remarked.
Mr. Brodribb looked at me with a genial smile.
"What a glutton for facts this fellow is, Jervis. But you're right,
Thorndyke; I'm vague. However, Fred will be here presently. We travel
down together, and I took the liberty of asking him to call for me.
We'll get him to tell you about his delusions, if you don't mind. He's
not shy about them. And meanwhile I'll give you a few preliminary facts.
The trouble began about a year ago. He was in a railway accident, and
that knocked him all to pieces. Then he went for a voyage to recruit,
and the ship broke her propeller-shaft in a storm and became helpless.
That didn't improve the state of his nerves. Then he went down the
Mediterranean, and after a month or two, back he came, no better than
when he started. But here he is, I expect."
He went over to the door and admitted a tall, frail young man whom
Thorndyke welcomed with quiet geniality, and settled in a chair by the
fire. I looked curiously at our visitor. He was a typical
neurotic--slender, fragile, eager. Wide-open blue eyes with broad
pupils, in which I could plainly see the characteristic "hippus"--that
incessant change of size that marks the unstable nervous
equilibrium--parted lips, and wandering taper fingers, were as the
stigmata of his disorder. He was of the stuff out of which prophets and
devotees, martyrs, reformers, and third-rate poets are made.
"I have been telling Dr. Thorndyke about these nervous troubles of
yours," said Mr. Brodribb presently. "I hope you don't mind. He is an
old friend, you know, and he is very much interested."
"It is very good of him," said Calverley. Then he flushed deeply, and
added: "But they are not really nervous, you know. They can't be merely
subjective."
"You think they can't be?" said Thorndyke.
"No, I am sure they are not." He flushed again like a girl, and looked
earnestly at Thorndyke with his big, dreamy eyes. "But you doctors," he
said, "are so dreadfully sceptical of all spiritual phenomena. You are
such materialists."
"Yes," said Mr. Brodribb; "the doctors are not hot on the supernatural,
and that's the fact."
"Supposing you tell us about your experiences," said Thorndyke
persuasively. "Give us a chance to believe, if we can't explain away."
Calverley reflected for a few moments; then, looking earnestly at
Thorndyke, he said:
"Very well; if it won't bore you, I will. It is a curious story."
"I have told Dr. Thorndyke about your voyage and your trip down the
Mediterranean," said Mr. Brodribb.
"Then," said Calverley, "I will begin with the events that are actually
connected with these strange visitations. The first of these occurred in
Marseilles. I was in a curio-shop there, looking over some Algerian and
Moorish tilings, when my attention was attracted by a sort of charm or
pendant that hung in a glass case. It was not particularly beautiful,
but its appearance was quaint and curious, and took my fancy. It
consisted of an oblong block of ebony in which was set a single
pear-shaped pearl more than three-quarters of an inch long. The sides of
the ebony block were lacquered--probably to conceal a joint--and bore a
number of Chinese characters, and at the top was a little gold image
with a hole through it, presumably for a string to suspend it by.
Excepting for the pearl, the whole thing was uncommonly like one of
those ornamental tablets of Chinese ink.
"Now, I had taken a fancy to the thing, and I can afford to indulge my
fancies in moderation. The man wanted five pounds for it; he assured me
that the pearl was a genuine one of fine quality, and obviously did not
believe it himself. To me, however, it looked like a real pearl, and I
determined to take the risk; so I paid the money, and he bowed me out
with a smile--I may almost say a grin--of satisfaction. He would not
have been so well pleased if he had followed me to a jeweller's to whom
I took it for an expert opinion; for the jeweller pronounced the pearl
to be undoubtedly genuine, and worth anything up to a thousand pounds.
"A day or two later, I happened to show my new purchase to some men whom
I knew, who had dropped in at Marseilles in their yacht. They were
highly amused at my having bought the thing, and when I told them what I
had paid for it, they positively howled with derision.
"'Why, you silly guffin,' said one of them, a man named Halliwell, 'I
could have had it ten days ago for half a sovereign, or probably five
shillings. I wish now I had bought it; then I could have sold it to
you.'
"It seemed that a sailor had been hawking the pendant round the harbour,
and had been on board the yacht with it.
"'Deuced anxious the beggar was to get rid of it, too,' said Halliwell,
grinning at the recollection. 'Swore it was a genuine pearl of priceless
value, and was willing to deprive himself of it for the trifling sum of
half a jimmy. But we'd heard that sort of thing before. However, the
curio-man seems to have speculated on the chance of meeting with a
greenhorn, and he seems to have pulled it off. Lucky curio man!'
"I listened patiently to their gibes, and when they had talked
themselves out I told them about the jeweller. They were most
frightfully sick; and when we had taken the pendant to a dealer in gems
who happened to be staying in the town, and he had offered me five
hundred pounds for it, their language wasn't fit for a divinity
students' debating club. Naturally the story got noised abroad, and when
I left, it was the talk of the place. The general opinion was that the
sailor, who was traced to a tea-ship that had put into the harbour, had
stolen it from some Chinese passenger; and no less than seventeen
different Chinamen came forward to claim it as their stolen property.
"Soon after this I returned to England, and, as my nerves were still in
a very shaky state, I came to live with my cousin Alfred, who has a
large house at Weybridge. At this time he had a friend staying with him,
a certain Captain Raggerton, and the two men appeared to be on very
intimate terms. I did not take to Raggerton at all. He was a
good-looking man, pleasant in his manners, and remarkably plausible. But
the fact is--I am speaking in strict confidence, of course--he was a bad
egg. He had been in the Guards, and I don't quite know why he left; but
I do know that he played bridge and baccarat pretty heavily at several
clubs, and that he had a reputation for being a rather uncomfortably
lucky player. He did a good deal at the race-meetings, too, and was in
general such an obvious undesirable that I could never understand my
cousin's intimacy with him, though I must say that Alfred's habits had
changed somewhat for the worse since I had left England.
"The fame of my purchase seems to have preceded me, for when, one day, I
produced the pendant to show them, I found that they knew all about it.
Raggerton had heard the story from a naval man, and I gathered vaguely
that he had heard something that I had not, and that he did not care to
tell me; for when my cousin and he talked about the pearl, which they
did pretty often, certain significant looks passed between them, and
certain veiled references were made which I could not fail to notice.
"One day I happened to be telling them of a curious incident that
occurred on my way home. I had travelled to England on one of Holt's big
China boats, not liking the crowd and bustle of the regular
passenger-lines. Now, one afternoon, when we had been at sea a couple of
days, I took a book down to my berth, intending to have a quiet read
till tea-time. Soon, however, I dropped off into a doze, and must have
remained asleep for over an hour. I awoke suddenly, and as I opened my
eyes, I perceived that the door of the state-room was half-open, and a
well-dressed Chinaman, in native costume, was looking in at me. He
closed the door immediately, and I remained for a few moments paralyzed
by the start that he had given me. Then I leaped from my bunk, opened
the door, and looked out. But the alley-way was empty. The Chinaman had
vanished as if by magic.
"This little occurrence made me quite nervous for a day or two, which
was very foolish of me; but my nerves were all on edge--and I am afraid
they are still."
"Yes," said Thorndyke. "There was nothing mysterious about the affair.
These boats carry a Chinese crew, and the man you saw was probably a
Serang, or whatever they call the gang-captains on these vessels. Or he
may have been a native passenger who had strayed into the wrong part of
the ship."
"Exactly," agreed our client. "But to return to Raggerton. He listened
with quite extraordinary interest as I was telling this story, and when
I had finished he looked very queerly at my cousin.
"'A deuced odd thing, this, Calverley,' said he. 'Of course, it may be
only a coincidence, but it really does look as if there was something,
after all, in that--'
"'Shut up, Raggerton,' said my cousin. 'We don't want any of that rot.'
"'What is he talking about?" I asked.
"'Oh, it's only a rotten, silly yarn that he has picked up somewhere.
You're not to tell him, Raggerton.'
"'I don't see why I am not to be told,' I said, rather sulkily. 'I'm not
a baby.'
"'No,' said Alfred, 'but you're an invalid. You don't want any horrors.'
"In effect, he refused to go into the matter any further, and I was left
on tenter-hooks of curiosity.
"However, the very next day I got Raggerton alone in the smoking-room,
and had a little talk with him. He had just dropped a hundred pounds on
a double event that hadn't come off, and I expected to find him pliable.
Nor was I disappointed, for, when we had negotiated a little loan, he
was entirely at my service, and willing to tell me everything, on my
promising not to give him away to Alfred.
"'Now, you understand,' he said, 'that this yarn about your pearl is
nothing but a damn silly fable that's been going the round in
Marseilles. I don't know where it came from, or what sort of demented
rotter invented it; I had it from a Johnnie in the Mediterranean
Squadron, and you can have a copy of his letter if you want it.'
"I said that I did want it. Accordingly, that same evening he handed me
a copy of the narrative extracted from his friend's letter, the
substance of which was this:
"About four months ago there was lying in Canton Harbour a large English
barque. Her name is not mentioned, but that is not material to the
story. She had got her cargo stowed and her crew signed on, and was only
waiting for certain official formalities to be completed before putting
to sea on her homeward voyage. Just ahead of her, at the same quay, was
a Danish ship that had been in collision outside, and was now laid up
pending the decision of the Admiralty Court. She had been unloaded, and
her crew paid off, with the exception of one elderly man, who remained
on board as ship-keeper. Now, a considerable part of the cargo of the
English barque was the property of a certain wealthy mandarin, and this
person had been about the vessel a good deal while she was taking in her
lading.
"One day, when the mandarin was on board the barque, it happened that
three of the seamen were sitting in the galley smoking and chatting with
the cook--an elderly Chinaman named Wo-li--and the latter, pointing out
the mandarin to the sailors, expatiated on his enormous wealth, assuring
them that he was commonly believed to carry on his person articles of
sufficient value to buy up the entire lading of a ship.
"Now, unfortunately for the mandarin, it chanced that these three
sailors were about the greatest rascals on board; which is saying a good
deal when one considers the ordinary moral standard that prevails in the
forecastle of a sailing-ship. Nor was Wo-li himself an angel; in fact,
he was a consummate villain, and seems to have been the actual
originator of the plot which was presently devised to rob the mandarin.
"This plot was as remarkable for its simplicity as for its cold-blooded
barbarity. On the evening before the barque sailed, the three seamen,
Nilsson, Foucault, and Parratt, proceeded to the Danish ship with a
supply of whisky, made the ship-keeper royally drunk, and locked him up
in an empty berth. Meanwhile Wo-li made a secret communication to the
mandarin to the effect that certain stolen property, believed to be his,
had been secreted in the hold of the empty ship. Thereupon the mandarin
came down hot-foot to the quay-side, and was received on board by the
three seamen, who had got the covers off the after-hatch in readiness.
Parratt now ran down the iron ladder to show the way, and the mandarin
followed; but when they reached the lower deck, and looked down the
hatch into the black darkness of the lower hold, he seems to have taken
fright, and begun to climb up again. Meanwhile Nilsson had made a
running bowline in the end of a loose halyard that was rove through a
block aloft, and had been used for hoisting out the cargo. As the
mandarin came up, he leaned over the coaming of the hatch, dropped the
noose over the Chinaman's head, jerked it tight, and then he and
Foucault hove on the fall of the rope. The unfortunate Chinaman was
dragged from the ladder, and, as he swung clear, the two rascals let go
the rope, allowing him to drop through the hatches into the lower hold.
Then they belayed the rope, and went down below. Parratt had already
lighted a slush-lamp, by the glimmer of which they could see the
mandarin swinging to and fro like a pendulum within a few feet of the
ballast, and still quivering and twitching in his death-throes. They
were now joined by Wo-li, who had watched the proceedings from the quay,
and the four villains proceeded, without loss of time, to rifle the body
as it hung. To their surprise and disgust, they found nothing of value
excepting an ebony pendant set with a single large pearl; but Wo-li,
though evidently disappointed at the nature of the booty, assured his
comrades that this alone was well worth the hazard, pointing out the
great size and exceptional beauty of the pearl. As to this, the seamen
know nothing about pearls, but the thing was done, and had to be made
the best of; so they made the rope fast to the lower deck-beams, cut off
the remainder and unrove it from the block, and went back to their ship.
"It was twenty-four hours before the ship-keeper was sufficiently sober
to break out of the berth in which he had been locked, by which time the
barque was well out to sea; and it was another three days before the
body of the mandarin was found. An active search was then made for the
murderers, but as they were strangers to the ship-keeper, no clues to
their whereabouts could be discovered.
"Meanwhile, the four murderers were a good deal exercised as to the
disposal of the booty. Since it could not be divided, it was evident
that it must be entrusted to the keeping of one of them. The choice in
the first place fell upon Wo-li, in whose chest the pendant was
deposited as soon as the party came on board, it being arranged that the
Chinaman should produce the jewel for inspection by his confederates
whenever called upon.
"For six weeks nothing out of the common occurred; but then a very
singular event befell. The four conspirators were sitting outside the
galley one evening, when suddenly the cook uttered a cry of amazement
and horror. The other three turned to see what it was that had so
disturbed their comrade, and then they, too, were struck dumb with
consternation; for, standing at the door of the companion-hatch--the
barque was a flush-decked vessel--was the mandarin whom they had left
for dead. He stood quietly regarding them for fully a minute, while they
stared at him transfixed with terror. Then he beckoned to them, and went
below.
"So petrified were they with astonishment and mortal fear that they
remained for a long time motionless and dumb. At last they plucked up
courage, and began to make furtive inquiries among the crew; but no
one--not even the steward--knew anything of any passengers, or, indeed,
of any Chinaman, on board the ship, excepting Wo-li.
"At day-break the next morning, when the cook's mate went to the galley
to fill the coppers, he found Wo-li hanging from a hook in the ceiling.
The cook's body was stiff and cold, and had evidently been hanging
several hours. The report of the tragedy quickly spread through the
ship, and the three conspirators hurried off to remove the pearl from
the dead man's chest before the officers should come to examine it. The
cheap lock was easily picked with a bent wire, and the jewel
abstracted; but now the question arose as to who should take charge of
it. The eagerness to be the actual custodian of the precious bauble,
which had been at first displayed, now gave place to equally strong
reluctance. But someone had to take charge of it, and after a long and
angry discussion Nilsson was prevailed upon to stow it in his chest.
"A fortnight passed. The three conspirators went about their duties
soberly, like men burdened with some secret anxiety, and in their
leisure moments they would sit and talk with bated breath of the
apparition at the companion-hatch, and the mysterious death of their
late comrade.
"At last the blow fell.
"It was at the end of the second dog-watch that the hands were gathered
on the forecastle, preparing to make sail after a spell of bad weather.
Suddenly Nilsson gave a husky shout, and rushed at Parratt, holding out
the key of his chest.
"'Here you, Parratt,' he exclaimed, 'go below and take that accursed
thing out of my chest.'
"'What for?' demanded Parratt; and then he and Foucault, who was
standing close by, looked aft to see what Nilsson was staring at.
"Instantly they both turned white as ghosts, and fell trembling so that
they could hardly stand; for there was the mandarin, standing calmly by
the companion, returning with a steady, impassive gaze their looks of
horror. And even as they looked he beckoned and went below.
"'D'ye hear, Parratt?' gasped Nilsson; 'take my key and do what I say,
or else--'
"But at this moment the order was given to go aloft and set all plain
sail; the three men went off to their respective posts, Nilsson going
up the fore-topmast rigging, and the other two to the main-top. Having
finished their work aloft, Foucault and Parratt who were both in the
port watch, came down on deck, and then, it being their watch below,
they went and turned in.
"When they turned out with their watch at midnight, they looked about
for Nilsson, who was in the starboard watch, but he was nowhere to be
seen. Thinking he might have slipped below unobserved, they made no
remark, though they were very uneasy about him; but when the starboard
watch came on deck at four o'clock, and Nilsson did not appear with his
mates, the two men became alarmed, and made inquiries about him. It was
now discovered that no one had seen him since eight o'clock on the
previous evening, and, this being reported to the officer of the watch,
the latter ordered all hands to be called. But still Nilsson did not
appear. A thorough search was now instituted, both below and aloft, and
as there was still no sign of the missing man, it was concluded that he
had fallen overboard.
"But at eight o'clock two men were sent aloft to shake out the
fore-royal. They reached the yard almost simultaneously, and were just
stepping on to the foot-ropes when one of them gave a shout; then the
pair came sliding down a backstay, with faces as white as tallow. As
soon as they reached the deck, they took the officer of the watch
forward, and, standing on the heel of the bowsprit, pointed aloft.
Several of the hands, including Foucault and Parratt, had followed, and
all looked up; and there they saw the body of Nilsson, hanging on the
front of the fore-topgallant sail. He was dangling at the end of a
gasket, and bouncing up and down on the taut belly of the sail as the
ship rose and fell to the send of the sea.
"The two survivors were now in some doubt about having anything further
to do with the pearl. But the great value of the jewel, and the
consideration that it was now to be divided between two instead of four,
tempted them. They abstracted it from Nilsson's chest, and then, as they
could not come to an agreement in any other way, they decided to settle
who should take charge of it by tossing a coin. The coin was accordingly
spun, and the pearl went to Foucault's chest.
"From this moment Foucault lived in a state of continual apprehension.
When on deck, his eyes were for ever wandering towards the companion
hatch, and during his watch below, when not asleep, he would sit moodily
on his chest, lost in gloomy reflection. But a fortnight passed, then
three weeks, and still nothing happened. Land was sighted, the Straits
of Gibraltar passed, and the end of the voyage was but a matter of days.
And still the dreaded mandarin made no sign.
"At length the ship was within twenty-four hours of Marseilles, to which
port a large part of the cargo was consigned. Active preparations were
being made for entering the port, and among other things the shore
tackle was being overhauled. A share in this latter work fell to
Foucault and Parratt, and about the middle of the second
dog-watch--seven o'clock in the evening--they were sitting on the deck
working an eye-splice in the end of a large rope. Suddenly Foucault, who
was facing forward, saw his companion turn pale and stare aft with an
expression of terror. He immediately turned and looked over his shoulder
to see what Parratt was staring at. It was the mandarin, standing by
the companion, gravely watching them; and as Foucault turned and met his
gaze, the Chinaman beckoned and went below.
"For the rest of that day Parratt kept close to his terrified comrade,
and during their watch below he endeavoured to remain awake, that he
might keep his friend in view. Nothing happened through the night, and
the following morning, when they came on deck for the forenoon watch,
their port was well in sight. The two men now separated for the first
time, Parratt going aft to take his trick at the wheel, and Foucault
being set to help in getting ready the ground tackle.
"Half an hour later Parratt saw the mate stand on the rail and lean
outboard, holding on to the mizzen-shrouds while he stared along the
ship's side. Then he jumped on to the deck and shouted angrily:
'Forward, there! What the deuce is that man up to under the starboard
cat-head?'
"The men on the forecastle rushed to the side and looked over; two of
them leaned over the rail with the bight of a rope between them, and a
third came running aft to the mate. 'It's Foucault, sir,' Parratt heard
him say. 'He's hanged hisself from the cat-head.'
"As soon as he was off duty, Parratt made his way to his dead comrade's
chest, and, opening it with his pick-lock, took out the pearl. It was
now his sole property, and, as the ship was within an hour or two of her
destination, he thought he had little to fear from its murdered owner.
As soon as the vessel was alongside the wharf, he would slip ashore and
get rid of the jewel, even if he sold it at a comparatively low price.
The thing looked perfectly simple.
"In actual practice, however, it turned out quite otherwise. He began
by accosting a well-dressed stranger and offering the pendant for fifty
pounds; but the only reply that he got was a knowing smile and a shake
of the head. When this experience had been repeated a dozen times or
more, and he had been followed up and down the streets for nearly an
hour by a suspicious gendarme, he began to grow anxious. He visited
quite a number of ships and yachts in the harbour, and at each refusal
the price of his treasure came down, until he was eager to sell it for a
few francs. But still no one would have it. Everyone took it for granted
that the pearl was a sham, and most of the persons whom he accosted
assumed that it had been stolen. The position was getting desperate.
Evening was approaching--the time of the dreaded dog-watches--and still
the pearl was in his possession. Gladly would he now have given it away
for nothing, but he dared not try, for this would lay him open to the
strongest suspicion.
"At last, in a by-street, he came upon the shop of a curio-dealer.
Putting on a careless and cheerful manner, he entered and offered the
pendant for ten francs. The dealer looked at it, shook his head, and
handed it back.
"'What will you give me for it?' demanded Parratt, breaking out into a
cold sweat at the prospect of a final refusal.
"The dealer felt in his pocket, drew out a couple of francs, and held
them out.
"'Very well,' said Parratt. He took the money as calmly as he could, and
marched out of the shop, with a gasp of relief, leaving the pendant in
the dealer's hand.
"The jewel was hung up in a glass case, and nothing more was thought
about it until some ten days later, when an English tourist, who came
into the shop, noticed it and took a liking to it. Thereupon the dealer
offered it to him for five pounds, assuring him that it was a genuine
pearl, a statement that, to his amazement, the stranger evidently
believed. He was then deeply afflicted at not having asked a higher
price, but the bargain had been struck, and the Englishman went off with
his purchase.
"This was the story told by Captain Raggerton's friend, and I have given
it to you in full detail, having read the manuscript over many times
since it was given to me. No doubt you will regard it as a mere
traveller's tale, and consider me a superstitious idiot for giving any
credence to it."
"It certainly seems more remarkable for picturesqueness than for
credibility," Thorndyke agreed. "May I ask," he continued, "whether
Captain Raggerton's friend gave any explanation as to how this singular
story came to his knowledge, or to that of anybody else?"
"Oh yes," replied Calverley; "I forgot to mention that the seaman,
Parratt, very shortly after he had sold the pearl, fell down the hatch
into the hold as the ship was unloading, and was very badly injured. He
was taken to the hospital, where he died on the following day; and it
was while he was lying there in a dying condition that he confessed to
the murder, and gave this circumstantial account of it."
"I see," said Thorndyke; "and I understand that you accept the story as
literally true?"
"Undoubtedly." Calverley flushed defiantly as he returned Thorndyke's
look, and continued: "You see, I am not a man of science: therefore my
beliefs are not limited to things that can be weighed and measured.
There are things, Dr. Thorndyke, which are outside the range of our puny
intellects; things that science, with its arrogant materialism, puts
aside and ignores with close-shut eyes. I prefer to believe in things
which obviously exist, even though I cannot explain them. It is the
humbler and, I think, the wiser attitude."
"But, my dear Fred," protested Mr. Brodribb, "this is a rank
fairy-tale."
Calverley turned upon the solicitor. "If you had seen what I have seen,
you would not only believe: you would _know_."
"Tell us what you have seen, then," said Mr. Brodribb.
"I will, if you wish to hear it," said Calverley. "I will continue the
strange history of the Mandarin's Pearl."
He lit a fresh cigarette and continued:
"The night I came to Beech-hurst--that is my cousin's house, you know--a
rather absurd thing happened, which I mention on account of its
connection with what has followed. I had gone to my room early, and sat
for some time writing letters before getting ready for bed. When I had
finished my letters, I started on a tour of inspection of my room. I was
then, you must remember, in a very nervous state, and it had become my
habit to examine the room in which I was to sleep before undressing,
looking under the bed, and in any cupboards and closets that there
happened to be. Now, on looking round my new room, I perceived that
there was a second door, and I at once proceeded to open it to see where
it led to. As soon as I opened the door, I got a terrible start. I
found myself looking into a narrow closet or passage, lined with pegs,
on which the servant had hung some of my clothes; at the farther end was
another door, and, as I stood looking into the closet, I observed, with
startled amazement, a man standing holding the door half-open, and
silently regarding me. I stood for a moment staring at him, with my
heart thumping and my limbs all of a tremble; then I slammed the door
and ran off to look for my cousin.
"He was in the billiard-room with Raggerton, and the pair looked up
sharply as I entered.
"'Alfred,' I said, 'where does that passage lead to out of my room?'
"'Lead to?' said he. 'Why, it doesn't lead anywhere. It used to open
into a cross corridor, but when the house was altered, the corridor was
done away with, and this passage closed up. It is only a cupboard now.'
"'Well, there's a man in it--or there was just now.'
"'Nonsense!' he exclaimed; 'impossible! Let us go and look at the
place.'
"He and Raggerton rose, and we went together to my room. As we flung
open the door of the closet and looked in, we all three burst into a
laugh. There were three men now looking at us from the open door at the
other end, and the mystery was solved. A large mirror had been placed at
the end of the closet to cover the partition which cut it off from the
cross corridor.
"This incident naturally exposed me to a good deal of chaff from my
cousin and Captain Raggerton; but I often wished that the mirror had not
been placed there, for it happened over and over again that, going to
the cupboard hurriedly, and not thinking of the mirror, I got quite a
bad shock on being confronted by a figure apparently coming straight at
me through an open door. In fact, it annoyed me so much, in my nervous
state, that I even thought of asking my cousin to give me a different
room; but, happening to refer to the matter when talking to Raggerton, I
found the Captain so scornful of my cowardice that my pride was touched,
and I let the affair drop.
[Illustration: THE APPARITION IN THE MIRROR]
"And now I come to a very strange occurrence, which I shall relate quite
frankly, although I know beforehand that you will set me down as a liar
or a lunatic. I had been away from home for a fortnight, and as I
returned rather late at night, I went straight to my room. Having partly
undressed, I took my clothes in one hand and a candle in the other, and
opened the cupboard door. I stood for a moment looking nervously at my
double, standing, candle in hand, looking at me through the open door at
the other end of the passage; then I entered, and, setting the candle on
a shelf, proceeded to hang up my clothes. I had hung them up, and had
just reached up for the candle, when my eye was caught by something
strange in the mirror. It no longer reflected the candle in my hand, but
instead of it, a large coloured paper lantern. I stood petrified with
astonishment, and gazed into the mirror; and then I saw that my own
reflection was changed, too; that, in place of my own figure, was that
of an elderly Chinaman, who stood regarding me with stony calm.
"I must have stood for near upon a minute, unable to move and scarce
able to breathe, face to face with that awful figure. At length I turned
to escape, and, as I turned, he turned also, and I could see him, over
my shoulder, hurrying away. As I reached the door, I halted for a
moment, looking back with the door in my hand, holding the candle above
my head; and even so _he_ halted, looking back at me, with his hand upon
the door and his lantern held above his head.
"I was so much upset that I could not go to bed for some hours, but
continued to pace the room, in spite of my fatigue. Now and again I was
impelled, irresistibly, to peer into the cupboard, but nothing was to be
seen in the mirror save my own figure, candle in hand, peeping in at me
through the half-open door. And each time that I looked into my own
white, horror-stricken face, I shut the door hastily and turned away
with a shudder; for the pegs, with the clothes hanging on them, seemed
to call to me. I went to bed at last, and before I fell asleep I formed
the resolution that, if I was spared until the next day, I would write
to the British Consul at Canton, and offer to restore the pearl to the
relatives of the murdered mandarin.
"On the following day I wrote and despatched the letter, after which I
felt more composed, though I was haunted continually by the recollection
of that stony, impassive figure; and from time to time I felt an
irresistible impulse to go and look in at the door of the closet, at the
mirror and the pegs with the clothes hanging from them. I told my cousin
of the visitation that I had received, but he merely laughed, and was
frankly incredulous; while the Captain bluntly advised me not to be a
superstitious donkey.
"For some days after this I was left in peace, and began to hope that my
letter had appeased the spirit of the murdered man; but on the fifth
day, about six o'clock in the evening, happening to want some papers
that I had left in the pocket of a coat which was hanging in the
closet, I went in to get them. I took in no candle, as it was not yet
dark, but left the door wide open to light me. The coat that I wanted
was near the end of the closet, not more than four paces from the
mirror, and as I went towards it I watched my reflection rather
nervously as it advanced to meet me. I found my coat, and as I felt for
the papers, I still kept a suspicious eye on my double. And, even as I
looked, a most strange phenomenon appeared: the mirror seemed for an
instant to darken or cloud over, and then, as it cleared again, I saw,
standing dark against the light of the open door behind him, the figure
of the mandarin. After a single glance, I ran out of the closet, shaking
with agitation; but as I turned to shut the door, I noticed that it was
my own figure that was reflected in the glass. The Chinaman had vanished
in an instant.
"It now became evident that my letter had not served its purpose, and I
was plunged in despair; the more so since, on this day, I felt again the
dreadful impulse to go and look at the pegs on the walls of the closet.
There was no mistaking the meaning of that impulse, and each time that I
went, I dragged myself away reluctantly, though shivering with horror.
One circumstance, indeed, encouraged me a little; the mandarin had not,
on either occasion, beckoned to me as he had done to the sailors, so
that perhaps some way of escape yet lay open to me.
"During the next few days I considered very earnestly what measures I
could take to avert the doom that seemed to be hanging over me. The
simplest plan, that of passing the pearl on to some other person, was
out of the question; it would be nothing short of murder. On the other
hand, I could not wait for an answer to my letter; for even if I
remained alive, I felt that my reason would have given way long before
the reply reached me. But while I was debating what I should do, the
mandarin appeared to me again; and then, after an interval of only two
days, he came to me once more. That was last night. I remained gazing at
him, fascinated, with my flesh creeping, as he stood, lantern in hand,
looking steadily in my face. At last he held out his hand to me, as if
asking me to give him the pearl; then the mirror darkened, and he
vanished in a flash; and in the place where he had stood there was my
own reflection looking at me out of the glass.
"That last visitation decided me. When I left home this morning the
pearl was in my pocket, and as I came over Waterloo Bridge, I leaned
over the parapet and flung the thing into the water. After that I felt
quite relieved for a time; I had shaken the accursed thing off without
involving anyone in the curse that it carried. But presently I began to
feel fresh misgivings, and the conviction has been growing upon me all
day that I have done the wrong thing. I have only placed it for ever
beyond the reach of its owner, whereas I ought to have burnt it, after
the Chinese fashion, so that its non-material essence could have joined
the spiritual body of him to whom it had belonged when both were clothed
with material substance.
"But it can't be altered now. For good or for evil, the thing is done,
and God alone knows what the end of it will be."
As he concluded, Calverley uttered a deep sigh, and covered his face
with his slender, delicate hands. For a space we were all silent and, I
think, deeply moved; for, grotesquely unreal as the whole thing was,
there was a pathos, and even a tragedy, in it that we all felt to be
very real indeed.
Suddenly Mr. Brodribb started and looked at his watch.
"Good gracious, Calverley, we shall lose our train."
The young man pulled himself together and stood up. "We shall just do it
if we go at once," said he. "Good-bye," he added, shaking Thorndyke's
hand and mine. "You have been very patient, and I have been rather
prosy, I am afraid. Come along, Mr. Brodribb."
Thorndyke and I followed them out on to the landing, and I heard my
colleague say to the solicitor in a low tone, but very earnestly: "Get
him away from that house, Brodribb, and don't let him out of your sight
for a moment."
I did not catch the solicitor's reply, if he made any, but when we were
back in our room I noticed that Thorndyke was more agitated than I had
ever seen him.
"I ought not to have let them go," he exclaimed. "Confound me! If I had
had a grain of wit, I should have made them lose their train."
He lit his pipe and fell to pacing the room with long strides, his eyes
bent on the floor with an expression sternly reflective. At last,
finding him hopelessly taciturn, I knocked out my pipe and went to bed.
* * * * *
As I was dressing on the following morning, Thorndyke entered my room.
His face was grave even to sternness, and he held a telegram in his
hand.
"I am going to Weybridge this morning," he said shortly, holding the
"flimsy" out to me. "Shall you come?"