"You need be under no alarm. I have no intention of suggesting anything of
the kind."
"Our business here," began Brasher--I must own that his manner is a little
ponderous--"is of a scientific, I may say also, and at the same time, of a
judicial nature. Our object is the Pursuit of Truth and the Advancement of
Inquiry."
"Have you been trying another smoke?" inquired Tress, nodding his head
toward me.
Before I had time to answer, Brasher went droning on:
"Our friend here tells me that you say this pipe is haunted."
"I say it is haunted because it _is_ haunted."
I looked at Tress. I half suspected that he was poking fun at us. But he
appeared to be serious enough.
"In these matters," remarked Brasher, as though he were giving utterance
to a new and important truth, "there is a scientific and nonscientific
method of inquiry. The scientific method is to begin at the beginning. May
I ask how this pipe came into your possession?"
Tress paused before he answered.
"You may ask." He paused again. "Oh, you certainly may ask. But it doesn't
follow that I shall tell you."
"Surely your object, like ours, can be but the Spreading About of the
Truth?"
"I don't see it at all. It is possible to imagine a case in which the
spreading about of the truth might make me look a little awkward."
"Indeed!" Brasher pursed up his lips. "Your words would almost lead one to
suppose that there was something about your method of acquiring the pipe
which you have good and weighty reasons for concealing."
"I don't know why I should conceal the thing from you. I don't suppose
either of you is any better than I am. I don't mind telling you how I got
the pipe. I stole it."
"Stole it!"
Brasher seemed both amazed and shocked. But I, who had previous experience
of Tress's methods of adding to his collection, was not at all surprised.
Some of the pipes which he calls his, if only the whole truth about them
were publicly known, would send him to jail.
"That's nothing!" he continued. "All collectors steal! The eighth
commandment was not intended to apply to them. Why, Pugh there has
'conveyed' three fourths of the pipes which he flatters himself are his."
I was so dumfoundered by the charge that it took my breath away. I sat in
astounded silence. Tress went raving on:
"I was so shy of this particular pipe when I had obtained it, that I put
it away for quite three months. When I took it out to have a look at it
something about the thing so tickled me that I resolved to smoke it. Owing
to peculiar circumstances attending the manner in which the thing came
into my possession, and on which I need not dwell--you don't like to dwell
on those sort of things, do you, Pugh?--I knew really nothing about the
pipe. As was the case with Pugh, one peculiarity I learned from actual
experience. It was also from actual experience that I learned that the
thing was--well, I said haunted, but you may use any other word you like."
"Tell us, as briefly as possible, what it was you really did discover."
"Take the pipe out of the box!" Brasher took the pipe out of the box and
held it in his hand. "You see that creature on it. Well, when I first had
it it was underneath the pipe."
"How do you mean that it was underneath the pipe?"
"It was bunched together underneath the stem, just at the end of the
mouthpiece, in the same way in which a fly might be suspended from the
ceiling. When I began to smoke the pipe I saw the creature move."
"But I thought that unconsciousness immediately followed."
"It did follow, but not before I saw that the thing was moving. It was
because I thought that I had been, in a way, a victim of delirium that I
tried the second smoke. Suspecting that the thing was drugged I swallowed
what I believed would prove a powerful antidote. It enabled me to resist
the influence of the narcotic much longer than before, and while I still
retained my senses I saw the creature crawl along under the stem and over
the bowl. It was that sight, I believe, as much as anything else, which
sent me silly. When I came to I then and there decided to present the pipe
to Pugh. There is one more thing I would remark. When the pipe left me the
creature's legs were twined about the bowl. Now they are withdrawn.
Possibly you, Pugh, are able to cap my story with a little one which is
all your own."
"I certainly did imagine that I saw the creature move. But I supposed that
while I was under the influence of the drug imagination had played me a
trick."
"Not a bit of it! Depend upon it, the beast is bewitched. Even to my eye
it looks as though it were, and to a trained eye like yours, Pugh! You've
been looking for the devil a long time, and you've got him at last."
"I--I wish you wouldn't make those remarks, Tress. They jar on me."
"I confess," interpolated Brasher--I noticed that he had put the pipe down
on the table as though he were tired of holding it--"that, to _my_
thinking, such remarks are not appropriate. At the same time what you have
told us is, I am bound to allow, a little curious. But of course what I
require is ocular demonstration. I haven't seen the movement myself."
"No, but you very soon will do if you care to have a pull at the pipe on
your own account. Do, Brasher, to oblige me! There's a dear!"
"It appears, then, that the movement is only observable when the pipe is
smoked. We have at least arrived at step No. 1."
"Here's a match, Brasher! Light up, and we shall have arrived at step No.
2."
Tress lit a match and held it out to Brasher. Brasher retreated from its
neighborhood.
"Thank you, Mr. Tress, I am no smoker, as you are aware. And I have no
desire to acquire the art of smoking by means of a poisoned pipe."
Tress laughed. He blew out the match and threw it into the grate.
"Then I tell you what I'll do--I'll have up Bob."
"Bob--why Bob?"
"Bob"--whose real name was Robert Haines, though I should think he must
have forgotten the fact, so seldom was he addressed by it--was Tress's
servant. He had been an old soldier, and had accompanied his master when
he left the service. He was as depraved a character as Tress himself. I am
not sure even that he was not worse than his master. I shall never forget
how he once behaved toward myself. He actually had the assurance to accuse
me of attempting to steal the Wardour Street relic which Tress fondly
deludes himself was once the property of Sir Walter Raleigh. The truth is
that I had slipped it with my handkerchief into my pocket in a fit of
absence of mind. A man who could accuse _me_ of such a thing would be
guilty of anything. I was therefore quite at one with Brasher when he
asked what Bob could possibly be wanted for. Tress explained.
"I'll get him to smoke the pipe," he said.
Brasher and I exchanged glances, but we refrained from speech.
"It won't do him any harm," said Tress.
"What--not a poisoned pipe?" asked Brasher.
"It's not poisoned--it's only drugged."
"_Only_ drugged!"
"Nothing hurts Bob. He is like an ostrich. He has digestive organs which
are peculiarly his own. It will only serve him as it served me--and
Pugh--it will knock him over. It is all done in the Pursuit of Truth and
for the Advancement of Inquiry."
I could see that Brasher did not altogether like the tone in which Tress
repeated his words. As for me, it was not to be supposed that I should put
myself out in a matter which in no way concerned me. If Tress chose to
poison the man, it was his affair, not mine. He went to the door and
shouted:
"Bob! Come here, you scoundrel!"
That is the way in which he speaks to him. No really decent servant would
stand it. I shouldn't care to address Nalder, my servant, in such a way.
He would give me notice on the spot. Bob came in. He is a great hulking
fellow who is always on the grin. Tress had a decanter of brandy in his
hand. He filled a tumbler with the neat spirit.
"Bob, what would you say to a glassful of brandy--the real thing--my boy?"
"Thank you, sir."
"And what would you say to a pull at a pipe when the brandy is drunk!"
"A pipe?" The fellow is sharp enough when he likes. I saw him look at the
pipe upon the table, and then at us, and then a gleam of intelligence came
into his eyes. "I'd do it for a dollar, sir."
"A dollar, you thief?"
"I meant ten shillings, sir."
"Ten shillings, you brazen vagabond?"
"I should have said a pound."
"A pound! Was ever the like of that! Do I understand you to ask a pound
for taking a pull at your master's pipe?"
"I'm thinking that I'll have to make it two."
"The deuce you are! Here, Pugh, lend me a pound."
"I'm afraid I've left my purse behind."
"Then lend me ten shillings--Ananias!"
"I doubt if I have more than five."
"Then give me the five. And, Brasher, lend me the other fifteen."
Brasher lent him the fifteen. I doubt if we shall either of us ever see
our money again. He handed the pound to Bob.
"Here's the brandy--drink it up!" Bob drank it without a word, draining
the glass of every drop. "And here's the pipe."
"Is it poisoned, sir?"
"Poisoned, you villain! What do you mean?"
"It isn't the first time I've seen your tricks, sir--is it now? And you're
not the one to give a pound for nothing at all. If it kills me you'll send
my body to my mother--she'd like to know that I was dead."
"Send your body to your grandmother! You idiot, sit down and smoke!"
Bob sat down. Tress had filled the pipe, and handed it, with a lighted
match, to Bob. The fellow declined the match. He handled the pipe very
gingerly, turning it over and over, eying it with all his eyes.
"Thank you, sir--I'll light up myself if it's the same to you. I carry
matches of my own. It's a beautiful pipe, entirely. I never see the like
of it for ugliness. And what's the slimy-looking varmint that looks as
though it would like to have my life? Is it living, or is it dead?"
"Come, we don't want to sit here all day, my man!"
"Well, sir, the look of this here pipe has quite upset my stomach. I'd
like another drop of liquor, if it's the same to you."
"Another drop! Why, you've had a tumblerful already! Here's another
tumblerful to put on top of that. You won't want the pipe to kill
you--you'll be killed before you get to it."
"And isn't it better to die a natural death?"
Bob emptied the second tumbler of brandy as though it were water. I
believe he would empty a hogshead without turning a hair! Then he gave
another look at the pipe. Then, taking a match from his waistcoat pocket,
he drew a long breath, as though he were resigning himself to fate.
Striking the match on the seat of his trousers, while, shaded by his hand,
the flame was gathering strength, he looked at each of us in turn. When he
looked at Tress I distinctly saw him wink his eye. What my feelings would
have been if a servant of mine had winked his eye at me I am unable to
imagine! The match was applied to the tobacco, a puff of smoke came
through his lips--the pipe was alight!
During this process of lighting the pipe we had sat--I do not wish to use
exaggerated language, but we had sat and watched that alcoholic scamp's
proceedings as though we were witnessing an action which would leave its
mark upon the age. When we saw the pipe was lighted we gave a simultaneous
start. Brasher put his hands under his coat tails and gave a kind of hop.
I raised myself a good six inches from my chair, and Tress rubbed his
palms together with a chuckle. Bob alone was calm.
"Now," cried Tress, "you'll see the devil moving."
Bob took the pipe from between his lips.
"See what?" he said.
"Bob, you rascal, put that pipe back into your mouth, and smoke it for
your life!"
Bob was eying the pipe askance.
"I dare say, but what I want to know is whether this here varmint's dead
or whether he isn't. I don't want to have him flying at my nose--and he
looks vicious enough for anything."
"Give me back that pound, you thief, and get out of my house, and bundle."
"I ain't going to give you back no pound."
"Then smoke that pipe!"
"I am smoking it, ain't I?"
With the utmost deliberation Bob returned the pipe to his mouth. He
emitted another whiff or two of smoke.
"Now--now!" cried Tress, all excitement, and wagging his hand in the air.
We gathered round. As we did so Bob again withdrew the pipe.
"What is the meaning of all this here? I ain't going to have you playing
none of your larks on me. I know there's something up, but I ain't going
to throw my life away for twenty shillings--not quite I ain't."
Tress, whose temper is not at any time one of the best, was seized with
quite a spasm of rage.
"As I live, my lad, if you try to cheat me by taking that pipe from
between your lips until I tell you, you leave this room that instant,
never again to be a servant of mine."
I presume the fellow knew from long experience when his master meant what
he said, and when he didn't. Without an attempt at remonstrance he
replaced the pipe. He continued stolidly to puff away. Tress caught me by
the arm.
"What did I tell you? There--there! That tentacle is moving."
The uplifted tentacle _was_ moving. It was doing what I had seen it do, as
I supposed, in my distorted imagination--it was reaching forward.
Undoubtedly Bob saw what it was doing; but, whether in obedience to his
master's commands, or whether because the drug was already beginning to
take effect, he made no movement to withdraw the pipe. He watched the
slowly advancing tentacle, coming closer and closer toward his nose, with
an expression of such intense horror on his countenance that it became
quite shocking. Farther and farther the creature reached forward, until on
a sudden, with a sort of jerk, the movement assumed a downward direction,
and the tentacle was slowly lowered until the tip rested on the stem of
the pipe. For a moment the creature remained motionless. I was quieting my
nerves with the reflection that this thing was but some trick of the
carver's art, and that what we had seen we had seen in a sort of
nightmare, when the whole hideous reptile was seized with what seemed to
be a fit of convulsive shuddering. It seemed to be in agony. It trembled
so violently that I expected to see it loosen its hold of the stem and
fall to the ground. I was sufficiently master of myself to steal a glance
at Bob. We had had an inkling of what might happen. He was wholly
unprepared. As he saw that dreadful, human-looking creature, coming to
life, as it seemed, within an inch or two of his nose, his eyes dilated to
twice their usual size. I hoped, for his sake, that unconsciousness would
supervene, through the action of the drug, before through sheer fright
his senses left him. Perhaps mechanically he puffed steadily on.
The creature's shuddering became more violent. It appeared to swell before
our eyes. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the shuddering ceased. There
was another instant of quiescence. Then the creature began to crawl along
the stem of the pipe! It moved with marvelous caution, the merest fraction
of an inch at a time. But still it moved! Our eyes were riveted on it with
a fascination which was absolutely nauseous. I am unpleasantly affected
even as I think of it now. My dreams of the night before had been nothing
to this.
Slowly, slowly, it went, nearer and nearer to the smoker's nose. Its mode
of progression was in the highest degree unsightly. It glided, never, so
far as I could see, removing its tentacles from the stem of the pipe. It
slipped its hindmost feelers onward until they came up to those which were
in advance. Then, in their turn, it advanced those which were in front. It
seemed, too, to move with the utmost labor, shuddering as though it were
in pain.
We were all, for our parts, speechless. I was momentarily hoping that the
drug would take effect on Bob. Either his constitution enabled him to
offer a strong resistance to narcotics, or else the large quantity of neat
spirit which he had drunk acted--as Tress had malevolently intended that
it should--as an antidote. It seemed to me that he would _never_ succumb.
On went the creature--on, and on, in its infinitesimal progression. I was
spellbound. I would have given the world to scream, to have been able to
utter a sound. I could do nothing else but watch.
The creature had reached the end of the stem. It had gained the amber
mouthpiece. It was within an inch of the smoker's nose. Still on it went.
It seemed to move with greater freedom on the amber. It increased its rate
of progress. It was actually touching the foremost feature on the smoker's
countenance. I expected to see it grip the wretched Bob, when it began to
oscillate from side to side. Its oscillations increased in violence. It
fell to the floor. That same instant the narcotic prevailed. Bob slipped
sideways from the chair, the pipe still held tightly between his rigid
jaws.
We were silent. There lay Bob. Close beside him lay the creature. A few
more inches to the left, and he would have fallen on and squashed it flat.
It had fallen on its back. Its feelers were extended upward. They were
writhing and twisting and turning in the air.
Tress was the first to speak.
"I think a little brandy won't be amiss." Emptying the remainder of the
brandy into a glass, he swallowed it at a draught. "Now for a closer
examination of our friend." Taking a pair of tongs from the grate he
nipped the creature between them. He deposited it upon the table. "I
rather fancy that this is a case for dissection."
He took a penknife from his waistcoat pocket. Opening the large blade, he
thrust its point into the object on the table. Little or no resistance
seemed to be offered to the passage of the blade, but as it was inserted
the tentacula simultaneously began to writhe and twist. Tress withdrew the
knife.
"I thought so!" He held the blade out for our inspection. The point was
covered with some viscid-looking matter. "That's blood! The thing's
alive!"
"Alive!"
"Alive! That's the secret of the whole performance!"
"But--"
"But me no buts, my Pugh! The mystery's exploded! One more ghost is lost
to the world! The person from whom I _obtained_ that pipe was an Indian
juggler--up to many tricks of the trade. He, or some one for him, got hold
of this sweet thing in reptiles--and a sweeter thing would, I imagine, be
hard to find--and covered it with some preparation of, possibly, gum
arabic. He allowed this to harden. Then he stuck the thing--still living,
for those sort of gentry are hard to kill--to the pipe. The consequence
was that when anyone lit up, the warmth was communicated to the adhesive
agent--again some preparation of gum, no doubt--it moistened it, and the
creature, with infinite difficulty, was able to move. But I am open to lay
odds with any gentleman of sporting tastes that _this_ time the creature's
traveling days _are_ done. It has given me rather a larger taste of the
horrors than is good for my digestion."
With the aid of the tongs he removed the creature from the table. He
placed it on the hearth. Before Brasher or I had a notion of what it was
he intended to do he covered it with a heavy marble paper weight. Then he
stood upon the weight, and between the marble and the hearth he ground the
creature flat.
While the execution was still proceeding, Bob sat up upon the floor.
"Hollo!" he asked, "what's happened?"
"We've emptied the bottle, Bob," said Tress. "But there's another where
that came from. Perhaps you could drink another tumblerful, my boy?"
Bob drank it!