IN THE DARK
Ex-roundsman McCarty had just completed his sartorial equipment the
following evening and stepped back to view with immense satisfaction
the mirrored effect of a new and--as he fondly believed--conservative
necktie, when the entrance bell rasped a raucous summons.
Pressing the button which released the lock downstairs he lost himself
again in admiration of the vividly striped knot beneath his chin until
a lugubrious shadow darkened the doorway, when he turned to behold
Dennis Riordan, also in state attire but with apprehensive gloom riding
upon his countenance.
"All ready for the shindy?" McCarty nodded his greeting. "Come in,
Denny; don't be standing there looking like an undertaker's assistant.
'Tis no wake we're invited to!"
"I'm far from a well man," announced the visitor. "I've had a kind of
a sinking feeling all day and it's in my bed I should be this minute
instead of letting Terhune make a monkey of me!"
"In your bed? In a funk-hole, you mean?" retorted McCarty, severely.
"I'm surprised at you, that's always the first up a ladder with the
hose and the last to jump when a wall begins to go, to be scared of Mr.
Terhune and his little machines. Of course, if your conscience is not
clear----"
He paused expectantly and Dennis rose to the bait.
"'Tis as clear as your own the night, but much good that'll do if his
unholy contraptions work crooked. Do you mind the time he all but
accused you because in one of the stunts he pulled you got excited and
your pulse or something registered a hundred and eighty in the shade?
I'm in no condition to have any tricks pulled on me, and although I'm
not a religious man and well you know it, Mac, I misdoubt that this is
tempting Providence on a Sunday evening."
"After the quiet little games you've sat in of a Sunday, I guess you'll
not be getting further odds on your chances in the next world by what
you'll be doing to-night," McCarty commented with withering sarcasm.
"Come on, now. I want a word with Mr. Terhune before the show starts."
It still lacked twenty minutes of the hour appointed when they reached
the apartments of Wade Terhune. A tall, lanky, studious-looking young
man admitted them and his pale, nearsighted eyes blinked behind their
huge-rimmed glasses as he beheld McCarty.
"How are you, Bassett?" The latter extended his hand cordially.
"'Tis like old times to be in on another of Mr. Terhune's scientific
try-outs. We're a trifle early, I'm thinking----"
"That's all right, Mr. McCarty," the assistant responded. "Mr. Terhune
thought you might come before the rest and he told me to send you right
into the consulting-room."
Dragging the reluctant Dennis in his wake, McCarty proceeded down the
hall and rapped smartly upon a door at its farther end.
"Come in. Ah, it is you, McCarty!" Terhune glanced up from a coil of
silk-covered wire which he was manipulating in the center of the great,
bare room. "Good-evening, Riordan. Don't mind that! You haven't hurt
it."
"That" was a screen which the unfortunate Dennis in his effort to
render himself as inconspicuous as possible, had knocked over. Behind
it was revealed a long table on which stood a row of glass retorts not
unlike huge thermometers. Each contained a thin tube of ruby-colored
liquid and the outside glass was spaced off in degrees. A series of
separate wires led from the table to the floor and disappeared beneath
a rug. Upon the wall above the table a huge square frame jutted out,
enclosing what appeared to be a chart of some sort upon which long
perpendicular lines had been marked, the spaces between headed with
numbers, ranging from one to seven. Separate wires ran from the bottom
of the frame to the base of each retort.
With a muttered ejaculation Dennis drew hastily away from the
mysterious mechanism he had so unexpectedly exposed and Terhune turned
to McCarty with a slight smile.
"You spoke of one of my scientific experiments last year as a 'séance,'
my dear McCarty. The test we are going to use to-night will be somewhat
like one." He gestured to the circle of chairs which surrounded him.
"I have had very little time in which to prepare my apparatus, but I
do not expect a conclusive result to-night, just a mere indication to
prove that my hypothetical reconstruction of the affair has a basis of
fact. I'm sorry that you could not come last night, for I wanted an
opportunity to talk over a certain phase of the case with you prior to
this experiment, but, after all, I fancy that you and I are not working
from different angles in this case."
"I'm not working on it at all, sir; I'm an innocent bystander," McCarty
asserted blandly, ignoring Dennis' eye. "Of course, I'm interested in
it being as I was on hand, when the body was found, but I've no more
idea who murdered the poor lady than a blind man."
"Blind men sometimes know more than we credit them with." Terhune's
smile had deepened in significance. "If you could be guilty of
intentional ambiguity, my dear McCarty, one would conclude that you had
indeed formed an opinion not far removed from my own. But why is our
friend Riordan seemingly practicing the goose step?"
Dennis halted in some confusion.
"It's them wires," he explained. "I've no mind, Mr. Terhune, sir, to be
electrocuted before my time, and I don't know what I may be stepping
on."
His tone was distinctly aggrieved and their host hastened to reassure
him.
"The wires are quite harmless. Come over here and I will explain the
nature of our little experiment to-night. You see these seven chairs
arranged in a circle? When the others come I will ask you all to seat
yourselves and take hold of this wire with your right hands on the
bulbs. You will then be blindfolded and listen to a brief résumé of
the case. That is all that is required of you; just to listen, and not
relax your hold upon the bulb. It is quite simple, you see."
"Blindfold?" Dennis betrayed symptoms of renewed apprehension. "Mr.
Terhune, if it's all the same to you, I'd just as lief look on. I never
was much of a hand at parlor games, and if anything's sprung on me
sudden I'm liable to break up the circle."
"Nonsense! You are not under examination, my good fellow, but I
want you to take the test along with the rest. Mr. Vivaseur has no
connection with the case, either, but he is going to put himself in my
hands, in order to witness a practical demonstration of my methods."
"Vivaseur? The young lady's fiancé?" Dennis momentarily forgot his
perturbation. "And will she be here, too, sir?"
"No. This is strictly a stag affair. It is a test primarily of mental
suggestion and the blindfolding is merely as an aid to concentration."
The door-bell pealed authoritatively and as his host and McCarty turned
to greet the arrival of Inspector Druet, Dennis gazed wonderingly about
him. The wire, unwound, formed a huge ring in which at a distance of
about a yard apart were set seven bulbs covered with a gray, felt-like
substance. Dennis pressed one gingerly and it gave beneath his fingers
like a half-deflated rubber ball.
Dropping it hastily, he glanced about the room. It was lighted solely
by a large center dome in the ceiling, heavy curtains covered the
windows and alcove, and the fireplace was bare. On either side of the
hearth stood a square cabinet resembling a talking machine, but save
for these, the rug, a tall Colonial clock, the seven chairs arranged in
a circle and the screen in the corner, the huge room was empty.
His inspection finished, Dennis' hand strayed longingly to the pocket
wherein his pipe reposed, but that solace was denied his crawling
nerves, and selecting a chair as far removed as possible from the
screen and the devilish mechanism it concealed, he seated himself with
the air of a martyr, just as the door-bell rang once more.
Calvin Norwood, Oliver Jarvis, Captain Marchal and a large, fair-headed
man whom Dennis assumed to be the Englishman, Vivaseur, were ushered in
solemnly by Bassett, who closed the door and retired behind the screen,
and after subdued greetings, Wade Terhune took the floor.
"As I have just explained to our friends here, this experiment is
merely a little test in mental suggestion and I shall be grateful if
you will all assist me by concentrating as profoundly as possible upon
what you will hear," he began. "I will ask you to sit motionless, and
not to make the slightest sound until the test is completed, but to
listen very closely and attentively. Captain Marchal, will you sit
here, please? I remember that at the dinner on Friday night which had
so tragic an aftermath I promised to arrange to have you present at the
next scientific experiment upon which I might be engaged, but I confess
I little imagined under what circumstances I should keep my word."
His tone was sympathetic, with just the right blend of cordiality
and courteous deference, yet McCarty glanced sharply at him. The
allusion to a blind man returned to his mind and as its significance
dawned upon him his eyes sought the face of the secretary. He found
it resolutely composed, but haggard and weary with an almost waxen
pallor. Unutterable sadness, the numbed reaction of shock and a settled
melancholy he read there, but no sign of the disquiet of a secret
knowledge as yet unrevealed, at which the criminalist had hinted.
As requested, the young Frenchman had seated himself at Dennis' left
and beside him Terhune placed Oliver Jarvis. Then Calvin Norwood,
Vivaseur, Inspector Druet and McCarty, the latter at Dennis' right,
completed the circle of seven. When they had seated themselves,
Terhune, standing well outside the circle, reached over Norwood's
shoulder and picked up the wire.
"Mr. Norwood, will you kindly hold this bulb lightly in your right
hand, with the fingers closed over the top, the palm encircling it and
the thumb underneath? That is it. The bulb, I may add, is perfectly
harmless, an ordinary rubber sphere filled to a certain degree with
gas and covered with an absorbent substance. Now will each of you
please take up the bulb nearest you on the wire and hold it in the same
manner, with the right hand only? Remember that under no condition must
any of the bulbs be dropped until the test is at an end. I am going to
ask you also to submit to being blindfold to ensure your undistracted
concentration."
Bassett produced the folded white cloths and Terhune made the rounds
of the circle carefully adjusting each bandage. He started tactfully
with Oliver Jarvis, at Captain Marchal's left and finished with Dennis,
at his right. The Frenchman divined his action and smiled faintly in
acknowledgment.
"I am already blindfold, is it not so?" he remarked quietly, adding
something which McCarty failed to hear, for Dennis' muttered
declaration intervened:
"Never again unless I'm caught napping and subpœnaed!" he asserted in a
sepulchral undertone to his friend. "The wire's across my knees and I
can feel it sending a cold thrill to the marrow of me! Mac, if anything
should happen, the Firemen's Benevolent Association----"
"Shut up, you loon!" McCarty growled. "Whist, now, and listen. You're
worse than a woman!"
Dennis received the scathing rebuke in injured silence and Terhune's
quiet, level tones sounded once more from somewhere behind them.
"Try, please, to concentrate, to fix your minds only on what you will
hear, and to visualize the scene I am about to describe to you. All
ready, Bassett? Lights out!"
Utter blackness succeeded the gray film before McCarty's eyes and in
the tense silence which ensured the chair at his left creaked audibly.
"We are now in a room with which you are all familiar." Terhune's voice
had sunk to a droning monotone. "It is large with a very high ceiling,
a fireplace at the side, and four windows at its farther end, reaching
to the floor. Cabinets and glass cases line the walls and above them
are shelves containing various bottles and jars, while still higher,
against the walls themselves, are hung assortments of odd weapons,
knives, clubs and firearms. In the center of the room is a long table
covered with a red and yellow blanket which is stained in dark patches
of brown."
As he paused Dennis drew a stertorous breath which ended in a gulp as
McCarty's elbow dug viciously into his ribs. The rest sat as though
spell-bound.
"It is twilight and the corners of the room are in shadow." The
monotonous voice went on. "Dusk is creeping in at the windows and the
wind is rising."
Was it the imagination which Terhune had so often accused him of
lacking, or did a faint moaning as of wind in the chimney actually come
to McCarty's tingling ears?
"The door opens. See! A man enters. His face is in shadow but he paces
softly, impatiently up and down. He halts. He is listening, waiting.
Now he resumes his pacing. The dusk deepens----"
This time there could be no mistaking his senses, and McCarty felt
the hair rise upon his tingling scalp. He had _heard_ a key click in
a lock, felt a light current of air as a door opened and the sound of
footsteps on bare, polished floor came plainly to his ears, halting
and then continuing again. Moreover, a faint odor of tobacco assailed
his nostrils; tobacco of a peculiar blend which seemed strange and yet
vaguely reminiscent.
The little group sat tense and motionless, and in the utter stillness
the echo of measured footsteps seemed to beat upon McCarty's brain.
That odd, halting, hesitant yet curiously rhythmic triad; where had he
heard it before? It ceased as he pondered and the low, steady voice
droned on:
"He stops once more and listens. He hears light footsteps on the stairs
of the passageway, the rustle of a gown. A woman stands in the door, he
advances to her----"
"A-ah!" A harsh, shuddering cry, like that of a tortured animal broke
in upon the monotone. It rose from somewhere within the circle,
quivered on the air and died away, but McCarty could not have told
from which side it had come. He was straining every sense to grasp the
intangible, elusive sensation which had stolen upon him even before
that cry had cleaved the air.
Above Terhune's voice there had sounded the patter of light footfalls,
the soft, sibilant rustle of silk, and now another odor, pungent and
cloyingly sweet, obliterated the tantalizing scent of tobacco. It was
a rare and exotic perfume, and as it mounted, heady as new wine to his
brain, McCarty seemed to stand once more beside that still form upon
the table and again the blind secretary's horror-stricken cry rang in
his ears: "The scent of the Rose d'Amour! It is Madame Jarvis!"
"They meet. We cannot hear what they say, for their voices are low,
but his tones are impassioned, hers quiet and restrained. See! He is
urging, pleading with her; she refuses to listen, refuses to take him
seriously, to fall in with his mood----"
A woman's voice, high, and sweet, and clear as a rippling brook
echoed in soft laughter through the room and then the words came with
startling distinctness:
"Really, I don't know what in the world to say----"
"Her laughter maddens him!" Terhune's voice broke in upon that other
eerie one, and his droning note had changed. Into its monotone there
crept a breathless quality as of suspense, and it rose in a crescendo
of swift, dramatic fervor. "He tries to take her in his arms, but she
repulses him, at first gently, then imperiously. He becomes enraged,
she defies him! See! He is advancing upon her with menace in every
line of his crouched figure! She tries to elude him, to escape, but he
seizes her! They struggle, she is fighting for her life!"
He paused abruptly upon the final word, and before the ringing echo of
his voice had died upon the air a succession of other sounds, pregnant
with suggestion, took its place.
McCarty could have sworn that close beside him in the darkness two
bodies were locked in a death-struggle. He heard the man's stertorous,
grunting breath, the woman's sobbing gasps, the scraping shuffle of
feet upon the floor, a muttered oath, a smothered cry and the sharp
sibilant sound of tearing silk. Then a shriek rang out hideous in its
import, rising in an agony of mortal fear and dying in a horrible
choking gurgle which ebbed into silence.
McCarty had forgotten his immediate surroundings, forgotten that tense
circle of which he formed a part; he was back in Norwood's museum in
the very presence of wanton crime and death and the voice of Terhune,
monotonously level and unemotional once more, failed to break the
illusion.
"The woman's body is huddled motionless upon the floor by the table now
and the man is standing over her. He realizes what he has done, his
passion is dead within him and he is scheming to gain time before the
inevitable discovery of his deed; time in which to divert suspicion
from himself. His clenched hand falls upon the table and as he feels
the woolly texture of the blanket, and the hard bony structure beneath
an inspiration comes to him. He jerks the blanket from the table,
seizes the skeleton and carrying it to the fireplace thrusts it up the
chimney."
As he spoke the sound of footsteps came again, a harsh rattle as of dry
and brittle bones, and the soft rustle of silk once more. Then a dozen
hasty steps, a metallic click and the creak of a casement, accompanied
by a sudden blast of chill air.
"He has lifted the woman's body to the table and covered it with the
blanket. Now he has gone to the end of the room and opened one of the
windows. But see! A long strand of black hair is wound about the button
on his coatsleeve; it catches on a broken sliver of wood on the window
frame as he leans out and clings there as he closes the window without
fastening it and turns----"
The footsteps with their curiously hurried yet hesitating gait passed
so close that McCarty felt that he could have reached out and touched
the man, but a strange numbness held him in leash.
With straining ears he followed the subdued, diminishing tread until it
died away and in another moment a dull, grating thud ensued.
"The man has descended to the yard, raised the ladder and placed it
against the window ledge. Now he re-enters the house, mounts the
stairs, closes the museum door and departs. Do you hear him? He is
walking down the hall toward the front of the house. His footsteps
die away in the distance; he has gone! But here in this room that
motionless figure lies beneath the blanket while the shadows creep
nearer and nearer, the gloom deepens and night comes."
"Evelyn!" A deep-throated cry, hoarse with anguish, pulsed upon the air
and ceased in a moaning gasp as Terhune called out in brisk, normal
tones:
"Lights, Bassett! Gentlemen, the experiment is over!"