IN THE DEATH CHAMBER
I sat up suddenly in bed and turned on the light. It was barely two
o'clock by my watch, but I felt sure that I had not been mistaken. Some
one had knocked at my door.
In the act of springing out of bed the sound was repeated. This time
there was certainly no mistake about it, and I heard my name called--
"Mr. Courage! Mr. Courage!"
I opened the door. The landing was dimly lit, and I could see little else
except the figure of the woman who stood there. With one hand she was
leaning against the wall, her face was as white as a sheet; she wore a
hastily thrown on dressing-gown of dingy red. Her whole appearance was
that of a person convulsed with fright.
"Who are you?" I asked. "What do you want?"
Her lips parted. She seemed to have the intention of speaking, but no
words came. Her teeth began to chatter.
"Come," I said brusquely, "you must--why you are the nurse whom Dr. Rust
sent, aren't you?" I asked, suddenly recognizing her. "What is the matter
with you? Are you ill?"
All the time, although she was silent, her eyes, distended and
terror-stricken, were fixed upon me. She nodded feebly.
"Something--is wrong!" she faltered at last. "Come!"
She turned away, still with one hand holding on to the wall. She
evidently wished me to follow her.
"One moment," I said. "Wait while I put something on."
I turned back into my room and wrapped my dressing-gown around me. Then I
followed her along the corridor. She led the way to the room which had
been occupied by Leslie Guest. Outside the door she hesitated. She turned
and faced me abruptly. She was white to the lips. Her appearance was
horrible.
"I dare not go in!" she moaned. "I have been a nurse for fifteen years,
and I have never known anything like this!"
"Like what?" I asked, bewildered. "What is it that has happened?"
She shivered, but she did not answer me. I was beginning to feel
impatient.
"Are you hysterical?" I asked. "I wish you would try and tell me what is
the matter."
"Go in," she answered; "go in, and see--if you can see anything."
I opened the door and entered. The room was dimly lit by a lamp, placed
on the table near the window. Upon the bed, covered by a sheet, his
waxen-like face alone visible, was the body of the man who had been my
guest. Beyond, with the connecting door wide open, was the anteroom where
the nurse had been sleeping. Except for the ticking of a clock, there was
no sound to be heard; there was no sign anywhere of any disturbance or
disorder. I looked back at the nurse for an explanation.
"What is it that has upset you so?" I asked. "I can see nothing wrong."
She pointed to the bed.
"His eyes!" she murmured. "Go and look!"
I walked over to the bedside, and leaned reverently over the still
figure. Suddenly I felt as though I were turned to stone. The blood in my
veins ran cold, I staggered back. My gaze had been met with an upturned
glassy stare from a pair of wide-opened, deep-set eyes!
"Good God!" I cried, "his eyes are open!"
The nurse, who had gained a little courage, came to my side.
"I closed them myself," she whispered. "I closed them carefully. I
thought that I heard a noise and I came in. I lit a lamp and I saw--what
you can see! Fifteen years I have been a nurse, and I have watched by the
dead more times than I can count. But I have never known that happen!"
Once more I approached the bedside. One arm was drawn up a little from
under the clothes. I noticed its somewhat unnatural position and pointed
it out to the nurse.
"Did you leave it like that?" I asked.
Her teeth chattered.
"No!" she answered, "The arms were quite straight. Some one has been in
the room--or--"
"Or what?" Tasked.
"He must have moved," she whispered in an unnatural tone.
Once more I bent over the still form. The pupils of the wide-open eyes
were slightly dilated; they seemed to meet mine with a horrible, unseeing
directness. There was no sign about his waxen face or still, cold mouth
that life had lingered for a moment beyond the stated period. And yet
something of the nurse's terror was slowly becoming communicated to me. I
felt that I was in close company with mysterious things.
I turned towards the nurse.
"Go to your room," I said, "and shut yourself in there. I am going to
send for Dr. Rust. Understand it is you that are ill. I do not want a
word of this to be spoken of amongst the servants."
She passed into her room and closed the door without a word. I had a
telephone from my room to the stables, and in a few moments I had
succeeded in awakening one of the grooms.
"The nurse is ill," I told him. "Take a dog-cart and go down and fetch
Dr. Rust. Ask him to come back with you at once."
I heard his answer, and a few minutes later the sound of wheels in the
avenue. Then I put on my clothes, and going downstairs, fetched some
brandy and took it up to the nurse. She, too, was dressed; and, although
she was still pale, she had recovered her self-possession.
"I am very sorry to have been so foolish, sir," she said, declining the
brandy. "I have never had an experience like this before, and it rather
upset me."
"You think," I asked, "that he has lived, since--"
"I am sure of it," she answered. "His was a very peculiar illness, and I
know that it puzzled the doctor very much. It was just the sort of
illness to have led to a case of suspended animation."
"You think it possible," I asked, "that he is alive now?"
"It is quite possible," she answered, "but not very likely. He probably
died with the slight effort he made in moving his arm. I am quite willing
to go in and examine him, if you like, or would you prefer to wait until
the doctor comes?"
"We will wait," I answered. "He cannot be more than a few minutes."
Almost as I spoke, I heard the dog-cart returning. I hurried downstairs
and admitted the doctor. It was almost daybreak and very cold. A thin,
grey mist hung over the park; a few stars were still visible. Eastwards,
there was a faint break in the clouds.
"What's wrong?" he asked, as I closed the door behind him.
"Something very extraordinary, doctor," I answered, hurrying him
upstairs. "Come and hear what the nurse has to say."
He looked at me in a puzzled manner, but I hurried him upstairs. The
nurse met him on the landing. She whispered something in his ear, and
they entered the bedchamber together. I remained outside.
In about ten minutes the door was thrown open, and the doctor appeared
upon the threshold. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and there was a look
upon his face which I had never seen there before. He had the appearance
of a man who has been in touch with strange things.
"Some hot water," said he--"boiling, if possible. Don't ask me any
questions, there's a good fellow!"
I had already aroused some of the servants, telling them that the nurse
had been taken ill, and I was able to bring what he had asked for in a
few minutes. But when I returned with it and tried the handle of the
door, I found it locked. Rust opened it after I had knocked twice, and
took the can from me.
"Go away, there's a good fellow," he begged. "I will come to you as soon
as I can--as soon as there is anything to tell."
I obeyed him without demur. I went into my study, ordered some tea, and
tried to read. It must have been an hour before the door was opened, and
Rust appeared.
"Courage," he said, "I have some extraordinary news for you."
"I am quite prepared for it," I answered calmly.
"He is alive!"
I nodded.
"I judged as much."
"More than that! I believe he will recover!"
There was a short silence. I had never seen Rust so agitated.
"You don't seem to grasp quite all that this means," he continued. "For
the first time in my life, I have signed a certificate of death for a
living person!"
"You have signed the certificate?" I asked.
He nodded.
"The undertaker has it."
The maid entered just then with the tea. I ordered another cup for Rust,
and when it had arrived, I made him sit down opposite to me.
"His was exactly the kind of illness," he remarked thoughtfully, "to lead
to something of this sort. I am quite sure now, whatever Kauppmann's
friend may say, that his disease was not a natural one. He has been
suffering from some strange form of poisoning. It is the most interesting
case I have ever come in contact with. There were certain symptoms--"
"Rust," I interrupted, "forgive me, but I don't want to hear about
symptoms. I want to talk to you as man to man. We are old friends! You
must listen carefully to what I have to say."
Rust's good-humored, weather-beaten, little face was almost pitiful.
"You're going to pitch into me, of course," he remarked. "Well, I
suppose I deserve it. You may not believe it, but I can assure you
that ninety-nine out of every hundred medical men would have signed
the certificate in my case."
"I have no doubt of it," I answered. "That is not the matter I want to
discuss with you at all. There is something more serious, terribly
serious, behind all this. Frankly, if I did not know you so well, Rust, I
should offer you the biggest fee you had ever received in your life, to
leave the place this morning and be called to--Timbuctoo. As it is," I
continued more slowly, "I am going to appeal to you as a sportsman! I am
going to take you into my confidence as far as I dare. I want, if I can,
to justify a very extraordinary request."
Rust took off his spectacles and laid them upon the table.
"The request being--" he asked.
"That you start for the holiday you were speaking of the other day," I
said, "within twelve hours."
He glanced at me curiously. I think that he was beginning to wonder
whether I might not be the next person to need medical advice.
"Go on," he said. "I am prepared to listen at any rate...."
He listened. And at 10.30 that morning, he left Saxby--for the South
Coast.