quiet face, "thank you for the sincerity and frankness of your account.
But I think now there is nothing further I need ask you." He indulged in
a long scrutiny of the author's haggard features, drawing purposely the
man's eyes to his own and then meeting them with a look of power and
confidence calculated to inspire even the feeblest soul with courage.
"And, to begin with," he added, smiling pleasantly, "let me assure you
without delay that you need have no alarm, for you are no more insane
or deluded than I myself am--"
Pender heaved a deep sigh and tried to return the smile.
"--and this is simply a case, so far as I can judge at present, of a
very singular psychical invasion, and a very sinister one, too, if you
perhaps understand what I mean--"
"It's an odd expression; you used it before, you know," said the author
wearily, yet eagerly listening to every word of the diagnosis, and
deeply touched by the intelligent sympathy which did not at once
indicate the lunatic asylum.
"Possibly," returned the other, "and an odd affliction too, you'll
allow, yet one not unknown to the nations of antiquity, nor to those
moderns, perhaps, who recognize the freedom of action under certain
pathogenic conditions between this world and another."
"And you think," asked Pender hastily, "that it is all primarily due to
the _Cannabis_? There is nothing radically amiss with myself--nothing
incurable, or--?"
"Due entirely to the overdose," Dr. Silence replied emphatically, "to
the drug's direct action upon your psychical being. It rendered you
ultra-sensitive and made you respond to an increased rate of vibration.
And, let me tell you, Mr. Pender, that your experiment might have had
results far more dire. It has brought you into touch with a somewhat
singular class of Invisible, but of one, I think, chiefly human in
character. You might, however, just as easily have been drawn out of
human range altogether, and the results of such a contingency would
have been exceedingly terrible. Indeed, you would not now be here to
tell the tale. I need not alarm you on that score, but mention it as a
warning you will not misunderstand or underrate after what you have been
through.
"You look puzzled. You do not quite gather what I am driving at; and it
is not to be expected that you should, for you, I suppose, are the
nominal Christian with the nominal Christian's lofty standard of ethics,
and his utter ignorance of spiritual possibilities. Beyond a somewhat
childish understanding of 'spiritual wickedness in high places,' you
probably have no conception of what is possible once you break down the
slender gulf that is mercifully fixed between you and that Outer World.
But my studies and training have taken me far outside these orthodox
trips, and I have made experiments that I could scarcely speak to you
about in language that would be intelligible to you."
He paused a moment to note the breathless interest of Pender's face and
manner. Every word he uttered was calculated; he knew exactly the value
and effect of the emotions he desired to waken in the heart of the
afflicted being before him.
"And from certain knowledge I have gained through various experiences,"
he continued calmly, "I can diagnose your case as I said before to be
one of psychical invasion."
"And the nature of this--er--invasion?" stammered the bewildered writer
of humorous tales.
"There is no reason why I should not say at once that I do not yet
quite know," replied Dr. Silence. "I may first have to make one or two
experiments--"
"On me?" gasped Pender, catching his breath.
"Not exactly," the doctor said, with a grave smile, "but with your
assistance, perhaps. I shall want to test the conditions of the
house--to ascertain, if possible, the character of the forces, of this
strange personality that has been haunting you--"
"At present you have no idea exactly who--what--why--" asked the other
in a wild flurry of interest, dread and amazement.
"I have a very good idea, but no proof rather," returned the doctor.
"The effects of the drug in altering the scale of time and space, and
merging the senses have nothing primarily to do with the invasion. They
come to any one who is fool enough to take an experimental dose. It is
the other features of your case that are unusual. You see, you are now
in touch with certain violent emotions, desires, purposes, still active
in this house, that were produced in the past by some powerful and evil
personality that lived here. How long ago, or why they still persist so
forcibly, I cannot positively say. But I should judge that they are
merely forces acting automatically with the momentum of their terrific
original impetus."
"Not directed by a living being, a conscious will, you mean?"
"Possibly not--but none the less dangerous on that account, and more
difficult to deal with. I cannot explain to you in a few minutes the
nature of such things, for you have not made the studies that would
enable you to follow me; but I have reason to believe that on the
dissolution at death of a human being, its forces may still persist and
continue to act in a blind, unconscious fashion. As a rule they speedily
dissipate themselves, but in the case of a very powerful personality
they may last a long time. And, in some cases--of which I incline to
think this is one--these forces may coalesce with certain non-human
entities who thus continue their life indefinitely and increase their
strength to an unbelievable degree. If the original personality was
evil, the beings attracted to the left-over forces will also be evil. In
this case, I think there has been an unusual and dreadful aggrandizement
of the thoughts and purposes left behind long ago by a woman of
consummate wickedness and great personal power of character and
intellect. Now, do you begin to see what I am driving at a little?"
Pender stared fixedly at his companion, plain horror showing in his
eyes. But he found nothing to say, and the doctor continued--
"In your case, predisposed by the action of the drug, you have
experienced the rush of these forces in undiluted strength. They wholly
obliterate in you the sense of humour, fancy, imagination,--all that
makes for cheerfulness and hope. They seek, though perhaps automatically
only, to oust your own thoughts and establish themselves in their place.
You are the victim of a psychical invasion. At the same time, you have
become clairvoyant in the true sense. You are also a clairvoyant
victim."
Pender mopped his face and sighed. He left his chair and went over to
the fireplace to warm himself.
"You must think me a quack to talk like this, or a madman," laughed Dr.
Silence. "But never mind that. I have come to help you, and I can help
you if you will do what I tell you. It is very simple: you must leave
this house at once. Oh, never mind the difficulties; we will deal with
those together. I can place another house at your disposal, or I would
take the lease here off your hands, and later have it pulled down. Your
case interests me greatly, and I mean to see you through, so you have no
anxiety, and can drop back into your old groove of work tomorrow! The
drug has provided you, and therefore me, with a short-cut to a very
interesting experience. I am grateful to you."
The author poked the fire vigorously, emotion rising in him like a tide.
He glanced towards the door nervously.
"There is no need to alarm your wife or to tell her the details of our
conversation," pursued the other quietly. "Let her know that you will
soon be in possession again of your sense of humour and your health, and
explain that I am lending you another house for six months. Meanwhile I
may have the right to use this house for a night or two for my
experiment. Is that understood between us?"
"I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart," stammered Pender,
unable to find words to express his gratitude.
Then he hesitated for a moment, searching the doctor's face anxiously.
"And your experiment with the house?" he said at length.
"Of the simplest character, my dear Mr. Pender. Although I am myself an
artificially trained psychic, and consequently aware of the presence of
discarnate entities as a rule, I have so far felt nothing here at all.
This makes me sure that the forces acting here are of an unusual
description. What I propose to do is to make an experiment with a view
of drawing out this evil, coaxing it from its lair, so to speak, in
order that it may _exhaust itself through me_ and become dissipated for
ever. I have already been inoculated," he added; "I consider myself to
be immune."
"Heavens above!" gasped the author, collapsing on to a chair.
"Hell beneath! might be a more appropriate exclamation," the doctor
laughed. "But, seriously, Mr. Pender, that is what I propose to do--with
your permission."
"Of course, of course," cried the other, "you have my permission and my
best wishes for success. I can see no possible objection, but--"
"But what?"
"I pray to Heaven you will not undertake this experiment alone, will
you?"
"Oh dear, no; not alone."
"You will take a companion with good nerves, and reliable in case of
disaster, won't you?"
"I shall bring two companions," the doctor said.
"Ah, that's better. I feel easier. I am sure you must have among your
acquaintances men who--"
"I shall not think of bringing men, Mr. Pender."
The other looked up sharply.
"No, or women either; or children."
"I don't understand. Who will you bring, then?"
"Animals," explained the doctor, unable to prevent a smile at his
companion's expression of surprise--"two animals, a cat and a dog."
Pender stared as if his eyes would drop out upon the floor, and then led
the way without another word into the adjoining room where his wife was
awaiting them for tea.
II
A few days later the humorist and his wife, with minds greatly relieved,
moved into a small furnished house placed at their free disposal in
another part of London; and John Silence, intent upon his approaching
experiment, made ready to spend a night in the empty house on the top of
Putney Hill. Only two rooms were prepared for occupation: the study on
the ground floor and the bedroom immediately above it; all other doors
were to be locked, and no servant was to be left in the house. The motor
had orders to call for him at nine o'clock the following morning.
And, meanwhile, his secretary had instructions to look up the past
history and associations of the place, and learn everything he could
concerning the character of former occupants, recent or remote.
The animals, by whose sensitiveness he intended to test any unusual
conditions in the atmosphere of the building, Dr. Silence selected with
care and judgment. He believed (and had already made curious experiments
to prove it) that animals were more often, and more truly, clairvoyant
than human beings. Many of them, he felt convinced, possessed powers of
perception far superior to that mere keenness of the senses common to
all dwellers in the wilds where the senses grow specially alert; they
had what he termed "animal clairvoyance," and from his experiments with
horses, dogs, cats, and even birds, he had drawn certain deductions,
which, however, need not be referred to in detail here.
Cats, in particular, he believed, were almost continuously conscious of
a larger field of vision, too detailed even for a photographic camera,
and quite beyond the reach of normal human organs. He had, further,
observed that while dogs were usually terrified in the presence of such
phenomena, cats on the other hand were soothed and satisfied. They
welcomed manifestations as something belonging peculiarly to their own
region.
He selected his animals, therefore, with wisdom so that they might
afford a differing test, each in its own way, and that one should not
merely communicate its own excitement to the other. He took a dog and a
cat.
The cat he chose, now full grown, had lived with him since kittenhood, a
kittenhood of perplexing sweetness and audacious mischief. Wayward it
was and fanciful, ever playing its own mysterious games in the corners
of the room, jumping at invisible nothings, leaping sideways into the
air and falling with tiny mocassined feet on to another part of the
carpet, yet with an air of dignified earnestness which showed that the
performance was necessary to its own well-being, and not done merely to
impress a stupid human audience. In the middle of elaborate washing it
would look up, startled, as though to stare at the approach of some
Invisible, cocking its little head sideways and putting out a velvet pad
to inspect cautiously. Then it would get absent-minded, and stare with
equal intentness in another direction (just to confuse the onlookers),
and suddenly go on furiously washing its body again, but in quite a new
place. Except for a white patch on its breast it was coal black. And its
name was--Smoke.
"Smoke" described its temperament as well as its appearance. Its
movements, its individuality, its posing as a little furry mass of
concealed mysteries, its elfin-like elusiveness, all combined to justify
its name; and a subtle painter might have pictured it as a wisp of
floating smoke, the fire below betraying itself at two points only--the
glowing eyes.
All its forces ran to intelligence--secret intelligence, wordless,
incalculable intuition of the Cat. It was, indeed, _the_ cat for the
business in hand.
The selection of the dog was not so simple, for the doctor owned many;
but after much deliberation he chose a collie, called Flame from his
yellow coat. True, it was a trifle old, and stiff in the joints, and
even beginning to grow deaf, but, on the other hand, it was a very
particular friend of Smoke's, and had fathered it from kittenhood
upwards so that a subtle understanding existed between them. It was this
that turned the balance in its favour, this and its courage. Moreover,
though good-tempered, it was a terrible fighter, and its anger when
provoked by a righteous cause was a fury of fire, and irresistible.
It had come to him quite young, straight from the shepherd, with the air
of the hills yet in its nostrils, and was then little more than skin and
bones and teeth. For a collie it was sturdily built, its nose blunter
than most, its yellow hair stiff rather than silky, and it had full
eyes, unlike the slit eyes of its breed. Only its master could touch it,
for it ignored strangers, and despised their pattings--when any dared to
pat it. There was something patriarchal about the old beast. He was in
earnest, and went through life with tremendous energy and big things in
view, as though he had the reputation of his whole race to uphold. And
to watch him fighting against odds was to understand why he was
terrible.
In his relations with Smoke he was always absurdly gentle; also he was
fatherly; and at the same time betrayed a certain diffidence or shyness.
He recognized that Smoke called for strong yet respectful management.
The cat's circuitous methods puzzled him, and his elaborate pretences
perhaps shocked the dog's liking for direct, undisguised action. Yet,
while he failed to comprehend these tortuous feline mysteries, he was
never contemptuous or condescending; and he presided over the safety of
his furry black friend somewhat as a father, loving but intuitive, might
superintend the vagaries of a wayward and talented child. And, in
return, Smoke rewarded him with exhibitions of fascinating and audacious
mischief.
And these brief descriptions of their characters are necessary for the
proper understanding of what subsequently took place.
With Smoke sleeping in the folds of his fur coat, and the collie lying
watchful on the seat opposite, John Silence went down in his motor after
dinner on the night of November 15th.
And the fog was so dense that they were obliged to travel at quarter
speed the entire way.
* * * * *
It was after ten o'clock when he dismissed the motor and entered the
dingy little house with the latchkey provided by Pender. He found the
hall gas turned low, and a fire in the study. Books and food had also
been placed ready by the servant according to instructions. Coils of fog
rushed in after him through the opened door and filled the hall and
passage with its cold discomfort.
The first thing Dr. Silence did was to lock up Smoke in the study with a
saucer of milk before the fire, and then make a search of the house with
Flame. The dog ran cheerfully behind him all the way while he tried the
doors of the other rooms to make sure they were locked. He nosed about
into corners and made little excursions on his own account. His manner
was expectant. He knew there must be something unusual about the
proceeding, because it was contrary to the habits of his whole life not
to be asleep at this hour on the mat in front of the fire. He kept
looking up into his master's face, as door after door was tried, with an
expression of intelligent sympathy, but at the same time a certain air
of disapproval. Yet everything his master did was good in his eyes, and
he betrayed as little impatience as possible with all this unnecessary
journeying to and fro. If the doctor was pleased to play this sort of
game at such an hour of the night, it was surely not for him to object.
So he played it too; and was very busy and earnest about it into the
bargain.
After an uneventful search they came down again to the study, and here
Dr. Silence discovered Smoke washing his face calmly in front of the
fire. The saucer of milk was licked dry and clean; the preliminary
examination that cats always make in new surroundings had evidently been
satisfactorily concluded. He drew an arm-chair up to the fire, stirred
the coals into a blaze, arranged the table and lamp to his satisfaction
for reading, and then prepared surreptitiously to watch the animals. He
wished to observe them carefully without their being aware of it.
Now, in spite of their respective ages, it was the regular custom of
these two to play together every night before sleep. Smoke always made
the advances, beginning with grave impudence to pat the dog's tail, and
Flame played cumbrously, with condescension. It was his duty, rather
than pleasure; he was glad when it was over, and sometimes he was very
determined and refused to play at all.
And this night was one of the occasions on which he was firm.
The doctor, looking cautiously over the top of his book, watched the cat
begin the performance. It started by gazing with an innocent expression
at the dog where he lay with nose on paws and eyes wide open in the
middle of the floor. Then it got up and made as though it meant to walk
to the door, going deliberately and very softly. Flame's eyes followed
it until it was beyond the range of sight, and then the cat turned
sharply and began patting his tail tentatively with one paw. The tail
moved slightly in reply, and Smoke changed paws and tapped it again. The
dog, however, did not rise to play as was his wont, and the cat fell to
patting it briskly with both paws. Flame still lay motionless.
This puzzled and bored the cat, and it went round and stared hard into
its friend's face to see what was the matter. Perhaps some inarticulate
message flashed from the dog's eyes into its own little brain, making it
understand that the program for the night had better not begin with
play. Perhaps it only realized that its friend was immovable. But,
whatever the reason, its usual persistence thenceforward deserted it,
and it made no further attempts at persuasion. Smoke yielded at once to
the dog's mood; it sat down where it was and began to wash.
But the washing, the doctor noted, was by no means its real purpose; it
only used it to mask something else; it stopped at the most busy and
furious moments and began to stare about the room. Its thoughts wandered
absurdly. It peered intently at the curtains; at the shadowy corners; at
empty space above; leaving its body in curiously awkward positions for
whole minutes together. Then it turned sharply and stared with a sudden
signal of intelligence at the dog, and Flame at once rose somewhat
stiffly to his feet and began to wander aimlessly and restlessly to and
fro about the floor. Smoke followed him, padding quietly at his heels.
Between them they made what seemed to be a deliberate search of the
room.
And, here, as he watched them, noting carefully every detail of the
performance over the top of his book, yet making no effort to interfere,
it seemed to the doctor that the first beginnings of a faint distress
betrayed themselves in the collie, and in the cat the stirrings of a
vague excitement.
He observed them closely. The fog was thick in the air, and the tobacco
smoke from his pipe added to its density; the furniture at the far end
stood mistily, and where the shadows congregated in hanging clouds under
the ceiling, it was difficult to see clearly at all; the lamplight only
reached to a level of five feet from the floor, above which came layers
of comparative darkness, so that the room appeared twice as lofty as it
actually was. By means of the lamp and the fire, however, the carpet was
everywhere clearly visible.
The animals made their silent tour of the floor, sometimes the dog
leading, sometimes the cat; occasionally they looked at one another as
though exchanging signals; and once or twice, in spite of the limited
space, he lost sight of one or other among the fog and the shadows.
Their curiosity, it appeared to him, was something more than the
excitement lurking in the unknown territory of a strange room; yet, so
far, it was impossible to test this, and he purposely kept his mind
quietly receptive lest the smallest mental excitement on his part should
communicate itself to the animals and thus destroy the value of their
independent behaviour.
They made a very thorough journey, leaving no piece of furniture
unexamined, or unsmelt. Flame led the way, walking slowly with lowered
head, and Smoke followed demurely at his heels, making a transparent
pretence of not being interested, yet missing nothing. And, at length,
they returned, the old collie first, and came to rest on the mat before
the fire. Flame rested his muzzle on his master's knee, smiling
beatifically while he patted the yellow head and spoke his name; and
Smoke, coming a little later, pretending he came by chance, looked from
the empty saucer to his face, lapped up the milk when it was given him
to the last drop, and then sprang upon his knees and curled round for
the sleep it had fully earned and intended to enjoy.
Silence descended upon the room. Only the breathing of the dog upon the
mat came through the deep stillness, like the pulse of time marking the
minutes; and the steady drip, drip of the fog outside upon the
window-ledges dismally testified to the inclemency of the night beyond.
And the soft crashings of the coals as the fire settled down into the
grate became less and less audible as the fire sank and the flames
resigned their fierceness.
It was now well after eleven o'clock, and Dr. Silence devoted himself
again to his book. He read the words on the printed page and took in
their meaning superficially, yet without starting into life the
correlations of thought and suggestion that should accompany interesting
reading. Underneath, all the while, his mental energies were absorbed in
watching, listening, waiting for what might come. He was not over
sanguine himself, yet he did not wish to be taken by surprise.
Moreover, the animals, his sensitive barometers, had incontinently gone
to sleep.
After reading a dozen pages, however, he realized that his mind was
really occupied in reviewing the features of Pender's extraordinary
story, and that it was no longer necessary to steady his imagination by
studying the dull paragraphs detailed in the pages before him. He laid
down his book accordingly, and allowed his thoughts to dwell upon the
features of the Case. Speculations as to the meaning, however, he
rigorously suppressed, knowing that such thoughts would act upon his
imagination like wind upon the glowing embers of a fire.