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, the 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 recognised 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 programme for the night had better not begin
with play. Perhaps it only realised 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 realised 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.
As the night wore on the silence grew deeper and deeper, and only
at rare intervals he heard the sound of wheels on the main road a
hundred yards away, where the horses went at a walking pace owing to
the density of the fog. The echo of pedestrian footsteps no longer
reached him, the clamour of occasional voices no longer came down the
side street The night, muffled by fog, shrouded by veils of ultimate
mystery, hung about the haunted villa like a doom. Nothing in the house
stirred. Stillness, in a thick blanket, lay over the upper storeys.
Only the mist in the room grew more dense, he thought, and the damp
cold more penetrating. Certainly, from time to time, he shivered.
The collie, now deep in slumber, moved occasionally,--grunted, sighed,
or twitched his legs in dreams. Smoke lay on his knees, a pool of warm,
black fur, only the closest observation detecting the movement of his
sleek sides. It was difficult to distinguish exactly where his head and
body joined in that circle of glistening hair; only a black satin nose
and a tiny tip of pink tongue betrayed the secret.
Dr. Silence watched him, and felt comfortable. The collie’s breathing
was soothing. The fire was well built, and would burn for another two
hours without attention. He was not conscious of the least nervousness.
He particularly wished to remain in his ordinary and normal state of
mind, and to force nothing. If sleep came naturally, he would let it
come--and even welcome it. The coldness of the room, when the fire
died down later, would be sure to wake him again; and it would then be
time enough to carry these sleeping barometers up to bed. From various
psychic premonitions he knew quite well that the night would not pass
without adventure; but he did not wish to force its arrival; and he
wished to remain normal, and let the animals remain normal, so that,
when it came, it would be unattended by excitement or by any straining
of the attention. Many experiments had made him wise. And, for the
rest, he had no fear.
Accordingly, after a time, he did fall asleep as he had expected, and
the last thing he remembered, before oblivion slipped up over his eyes
like soft wool, was the picture of Flame stretching all four legs at
once, and sighing noisily as he sought a more comfortable position for
his paws and muzzle upon the mat.
* * * * *
It was a good deal later when he became aware that a weight lay upon
his chest, and that something was pencilling over his face and mouth. A
soft touch on the cheek woke him. Something was patting him.
He sat up with a jerk, and found himself staring straight into a pair
of brilliant eyes, half green, half black. Smoke’s face lay level with
his own; and the cat had climbed up with its front paws upon his chest.
The lamp had burned low and the fire was nearly out, yet Dr. Silence
saw in a moment that the cat was in an excited state. It kneaded with
its front paws into his chest, shifting from one to the other. He felt
them prodding against him. It lifted a leg very carefully and patted
his cheek gingerly. Its fur, he saw, was standing ridgewise upon its
back; the ears were flattened back somewhat; the tail was switching
sharply. The cat, of course, had wakened him with a purpose, and the
instant he realised this, he set it upon the arm of the chair and
sprang up with a quick turn to face the empty room behind him. By some
curious instinct, his arms of their own accord assumed an attitude
of defence in front of him, as though to ward off something that
threatened his safety. Yet nothing was visible. Only shapes of fog hung
about rather heavily in the air, moving slightly to and fro.
His mind was now fully alert, and the last vestiges of sleep gone. He
turned the lamp higher and peered about him. Two things he became aware
of at once: one, that Smoke, while excited, was _pleasurably_ excited;
the other, that the collie was no longer visible upon the mat at his
feet. He had crept away to the corner of the wall farthest from the
window, and lay watching the room with wide-open eyes, in which lurked
plainly something of alarm.
Something in the dog’s behaviour instantly struck Dr. Silence as
unusual, and, calling him by name, he moved across to pat him. Flame
got up, wagged his tail, and came over slowly to the rug, uttering a
low sound that was half growl, half whine. He was evidently perturbed
about something, and his master was proceeding to administer comfort
when his attention was suddenly drawn to the antics of his other
four-footed companion, the cat.
And what he saw filled him with something like amazement.
Smoke had jumped down from the back of the arm-chair and now occupied
the middle of the carpet, where, with tail erect and legs stiff as
ramrods, it was steadily pacing backwards and forwards in a narrow
space, uttering, as it did so, those curious little guttural sounds of
pleasure that only an animal of the feline species knows how to make
expressive of supreme happiness. Its stiffened legs and arched back
made it appear larger than usual, and the black visage wore a smile of
beatific joy. Its eyes blazed magnificently; it was in an ecstasy.
At the end of every few paces it turned sharply and stalked back again
along the same line, padding softly, and purring like a roll of little
muffled drums. It behaved precisely as though it were rubbing against
the ankles of some one who remained invisible. A thrill ran down the
doctor’s spine as he stood and stared. His experiment was growing
interesting at last.
He called the collie’s attention to his friend’s performance to see
whether he too was aware of anything standing there upon the carpet;
and the dog’s behaviour was significant and corroborative. He came
as far as his master’s knees and then stopped dead, refusing to
investigate closely. In vain Dr. Silence urged him; he wagged his
tail, whined a little, and stood in a half-crouching attitude, staring
alternately at the cat and at his master’s face. He was, apparently,
both puzzled and alarmed, and the whine went deeper and deeper down
into his throat till it changed into an ugly snarl of awakening anger.
Then the doctor called to him in a tone of command he had never known
to be disregarded; but still the dog, though springing up in response,
declined to move nearer. He made tentative motions, pranced a little
like a dog about to take to water, pretended to bark, and ran to and
fro on the carpet. So far there was no actual fear in his manner, but
he was uneasy and anxious, and nothing would induce him to go within
touching distance of the walking cat. Once he made a complete circuit,
but always carefully out of reach; and in the end he returned to his
master’s legs and rubbed vigorously against him. Flame did not like the
performance at all: that much was quite clear.
For several minutes John Silence watched the performance of the cat
with profound attention and without interfering. Then he called to the
animal by name.
“Smoke, you mysterious beastie, what in the world are you about?” he
said, in a coaxing tone.
The cat looked up at him for a moment, smiling in its ecstasy, blinking
its eyes, but too happy to pause. He spoke to it again. He called to it
several times, and each time it turned upon him its blazing eyes, drunk
with inner delight, opening and shutting its lips, its body large and
rigid with excitement. Yet it never for one instant paused in its short
journeys to and fro.
He noted exactly what it did: it walked, he saw, the same number of
paces each time, some six or seven steps, and then it turned sharply
and retraced them. By the pattern of the great roses in the carpet
he measured it. It kept to the same direction and the same line. It
behaved precisely as though it were rubbing against something solid.
Undoubtedly, there was something standing there on that strip of
carpet, something invisible to the doctor, something that alarmed the
dog, yet caused the cat unspeakable pleasure.
“Smokie!” he called again, “Smokie, you black mystery, what is it
excites you so?”
Again the cat looked up at him for a brief second, and then continued
its sentry-walk, blissfully happy, intensely preoccupied. And, for an
instant, as he watched it, the doctor was aware that a faint uneasiness
stirred in the depths of his own being, focusing itself for the moment
upon this curious behaviour of the uncanny creature before him.
There rose in him quite a new realisation of the mystery connected
with the whole feline tribe, but especially with that common member
of it, the domestic cat--their hidden lives, their strange aloofness,
their incalculable subtlety. How utterly remote from anything that
human beings understood lay the sources of their elusive activities.
As he watched the indescribable bearing of the little creature mincing
along the strip of carpet under his eyes, coquetting with the powers
of darkness, welcoming, maybe, some fearsome visitor, there stirred in
his heart a feeling strangely akin to awe. Its indifference to human
kind, its serene superiority to the obvious, struck him forcibly with
fresh meaning; so remote, so inaccessible seemed the secret purposes of
its real life, so alien to the blundering honesty of other animals.
Its absolute poise of bearing brought into his mind the opium-eater’s
words that “no dignity is perfect which does not at some point ally
itself with the mysterious”; and he became suddenly aware that the
presence of the dog in this foggy, haunted room on the top of Putney
Hill was uncommonly welcome to him. He was glad to feel that Flame’s
dependable personality was with him. The savage growling at his heels
was a pleasant sound. He was glad to hear it. That marching cat made
him uneasy.
Finding that Smoke paid no further attention to his words, the doctor
decided upon action. Would it rub against his leg, too? He would take
it by surprise and see.
He stepped quickly forward and placed himself upon the exact strip of
carpet where it walked.
But no cat is ever taken by surprise! The moment he occupied the space
of the Intruder, setting his feet on the woven roses midway in the line
of travel, Smoke suddenly stopped purring and sat down. It lifted up
its face with the most innocent stare imaginable of its green eyes. He
could have sworn it laughed. It was a perfect child again. In a single
second it had resumed its simple, domestic manner; and it gazed at him
in such a way that he almost felt Smoke was the normal being, and _his_
was the eccentric behaviour that was being watched. It was consummate,
the manner in which it brought about this change so easily and so
quickly.
“Superb little actor!” he laughed in spite of himself, and stooped to
stroke the shining black back. But, in a flash, as he touched its fur,
the cat turned and spat at him viciously, striking at his hand with
one paw. Then, with a hurried scutter of feet, it shot like a shadow
across the floor and a moment later was calmly sitting over by the
window-curtains washing its face as though nothing interested it in the
whole world but the cleanness of its cheeks and whiskers.
John Silence straightened himself up and drew a long breath. He
realised that the performance was temporarily at an end. The
collie, meanwhile, who had watched the whole proceeding with marked
disapproval, had now lain down again upon the mat by the fire, no
longer growling. It seemed to the doctor just as though something that
had entered the room while he slept, alarming the dog, yet bringing
happiness to the cat, had now gone out again, leaving all as it was
before. Whatever it was that excited its blissful attentions had
retreated for the moment.
He realised this intuitively. Smoke evidently realised it, too, for
presently he deigned to march back to the fireplace and jump upon his
master’s knees. Dr. Silence, patient and determined, settled down once
more to his book. The animals soon slept; the fire blazed cheerfully;
and the cold fog from outside poured into the room through every
available chink and cranny.
For a long time silence and peace reigned in the room and Dr. Silence
availed himself of the quietness to make careful notes of what had
happened. He entered for future use in other cases an exhaustive
analysis of what he had observed, especially with regard to the
effect upon the two animals. It is impossible here, nor would it be
intelligible to the reader unversed in the knowledge of the region
known to a scientifically trained psychic like Dr. Silence, to
detail these observations. But to him it was clear, up to a certain
point--and for the rest he must still wait and watch. So far, at least,
he realised that while he slept in the chair--that is, while his will
was dormant--the room had suffered intrusion from what he recognised
as an intensely active Force, and might later be forced to acknowledge
as something more than merely a blind force, namely, a distinct
personality.
So far it had affected himself scarcely at all, but had acted directly
upon the simpler organisms of the animals. It stimulated keenly the
centres of the cat’s psychic being, inducing a state of instant
happiness (intensifying its consciousness probably in the same way
a drug or stimulant intensifies that of a human being); whereas it
alarmed the less sensitive dog, causing it to feel a vague apprehension
and distress.
His own sudden action and exhibition of energy had served to disperse
it temporarily, yet he felt convinced--the indications were not lacking
even while he sat there making notes--that it still remained near to
him, conditionally if not spatially, and was, as it were, gathering
force for a second attack.
And, further, he intuitively understood that the relations between the
two animals had undergone a subtle change: that the cat had become
immeasurably superior, confident, sure of itself in its own peculiar
region, whereas Flame had been weakened by an attack he could not
comprehend and knew not how to reply to. Though not yet afraid, he was
defiant--ready to act against a fear that he felt to be approaching. He
was no longer fatherly and protective towards the cat. Smoke held the
key to the situation; and both he and the cat knew it.
Thus, as the minutes passed, John Silence sat and waited, keenly on
the alert, wondering how soon the attack would be renewed, and at what
point it would be diverted from the animals and directed upon himself.
The book lay on the floor beside him, his notes were complete. With one
hand on the cat’s fur, and the dog’s front paws resting against his
feet, the three of them dozed comfortably before the hot fire while the
night wore on and the silence deepened towards midnight.
It was well after one o’clock in the morning when Dr. Silence turned
the lamp out and lighted the candle preparatory to going up to bed.
Then Smoke suddenly woke with a loud sharp purr and sat up. It neither
stretched, washed nor turned: it listened. And the doctor, watching it,
realised that a certain indefinable change had come about that very
moment in the room. A swift readjustment of the forces within the four
walls had taken place--a new disposition of their personal equations.
The balance was destroyed, the former harmony gone. Smoke, most
sensitive of barometers, had been the first to feel it, but the dog was
not slow to follow suit, for on looking down he noted that Flame was no
longer asleep. He was lying with eyes wide open, and that same instant
he sat up on his great haunches and began to growl.
Dr. Silence was in the act of taking the matches to re-light the lamp
when an audible movement in the room behind made him pause. Smoke
leaped down from his knee and moved forward a few paces across the
carpet. Then it stopped and stared fixedly; and the doctor stood up on
the rug to watch.
As he rose the sound was repeated, and he discovered that it was not
in the room as he first thought, but outside, and that it came from
more directions than one. There was a rushing, sweeping noise against
the window-panes, and simultaneously a sound of something brushing
against the door--out in the hall. Smoke advanced sedately across the
carpet, twitching his tail, and sat down within a foot of the door. The
influence that had destroyed the harmonious conditions of the room had
apparently moved in advance of its cause. Clearly, something was about
to happen.
For the first time that night John Silence hesitated; the thought of
that dark narrow hall-way, choked with fog, and destitute of human
comfort, was unpleasant. He became aware of a faint creeping of his
flesh. He knew, of course, that the actual opening of the door was not
necessary to the invasion of the room that was about to take place,
since neither doors nor windows, nor any other solid barriers could
interpose an obstacle to what was seeking entrance. Yet the opening of
the door would be significant and symbolic, and he distinctly shrank
from it.
But for a moment only. Smoke, turning with a show of impatience,
recalled him to his purpose, and he moved past the sitting, watching
creature, and deliberately opened the door to its full width.
What subsequently happened, happened in the feeble and flickering light
of the solitary candle on the mantelpiece.
Through the opened door he saw the hall, dimly lit and thick with fog.
Nothing, of course, was visible--nothing but the hat-stand, the African
spears in dark lines upon the wall and the high-backed wooden chair
standing grotesquely underneath on the oilcloth floor. For one instant
the fog seemed to move and thicken oddly; but he set that down to the
score of the imagination. The door had opened upon nothing.
Yet Smoke apparently thought otherwise, and the deep growling of the
collie from the mat at the back of the room seemed to confirm his
judgment.
For, proud and self-possessed, the cat had again risen to his feet,
and having advanced to the door, was now ushering some one slowly into
the room. Nothing could have been more evident. He paced from side to
side, bowing his little head with great _empressement_ and holding his
stiffened tail aloft like a flagstaff. He turned this way and that,
mincing to and fro, and showing signs of supreme satisfaction. He was
in his element. He welcomed the intrusion, and apparently reckoned that
his companions, the doctor and the dog, would welcome it likewise.
The Intruder had returned for a second attack.
Dr. Silence moved slowly backwards and took up his position on the
hearthrug, keying himself up to a condition of concentrated attention.
He noted that Flame stood beside him, facing the room, with body
motionless, and head moving swiftly from side to side with a curious
swaying movement. His eyes were wide open, his back rigid, his neck and
jaws thrust forward, his legs tense and ready to leap. Savage, ready
for attack or defence, yet dreadfully puzzled and perhaps already a
little cowed, he stood and stared, the hair on his spine and sides
positively bristling outwards as though a wind played through them. In
the dim firelight he looked like a great yellow-haired wolf, silent,
eyes shooting dark fire, exceedingly formidable. It was Flame, the
terrible.
Smoke, meanwhile, advanced from the door towards the middle of the
room, adopting the very slow pace of an invisible companion. A few
feet away it stopped and began to smile and blink its eyes. There
was something deliberately coaxing in its attitude as it stood there
undecided on the carpet, clearly wishing to effect some sort of
introduction between the Intruder and its canine friend and ally.
It assumed its most winning manners, purring, smiling, looking
persuasively from one to the other, and making quick tentative steps
first in one direction and then in the other. There had always existed
such perfect understanding between them in everything. Surely Flame
would appreciate Smoke’s intentions now, and acquiesce.
But the old collie made no advances. He bared his teeth, lifting
his lips till the gums showed, and stood stockstill with fixed eyes
and heaving sides. The doctor moved a little farther back, watching
intently the smallest movement, and it was just then he divined
suddenly from the cat’s behaviour and attitude that it was not only a
single companion it had ushered into the room, but _several_. It kept
crossing over from one to the other, looking up at each in turn. It
sought to win over the dog to friendliness with them all. The original
Intruder had come back with reinforcements. And at the same time he
further realised that the Intruder was something more than a blindly
acting force, impersonal though destructive. It was a Personality, and
moreover a great personality. And it was accompanied for the purposes
of assistance by a host of other personalities, minor in degree, but
similar in kind.
He braced himself in the corner against the mantelpiece and waited,
his whole being roused to defence, for he was now fully aware that
the attack had spread to include himself as well as the animals,
and he must be on the alert. He strained his eyes through the foggy
atmosphere, trying in vain to see what the cat and dog saw; but the
candlelight threw an uncertain and flickering light across the room and
his eyes discerned nothing. On the floor Smoke moved softly in front of
him like a black shadow, his eyes gleaming as he turned his head, still
trying with many insinuating gestures and much purring to bring about
the introductions he desired.
But it was all in vain. Flame stood riveted to one spot, motionless as
a figure carved in stone.
Some minutes passed, during which only the cat moved, and then there
came a sharp change. Flame began to back towards the wall. He moved
his head from side to side as he went, sometimes turning to snap at
something almost behind him. _They_ were advancing upon him, trying to
surround him. His distress became very marked from now onwards, and
it seemed to the doctor that his anger merged into genuine terror and
became overwhelmed by it. The savage growl sounded perilously like a
whine, and more than once he tried to dive past his master’s legs, as
though hunting for a way of escape. He was trying to avoid something
that everywhere blocked the way.
This terror of the indomitable fighter impressed the doctor enormously;
yet also painfully; stirring his impatience; for he had never before
seen the dog show signs of giving in, and it distressed him to witness
it. He knew, however, that he was not giving in easily, and understood
that it was really impossible for him to gauge the animal’s sensations
properly at all. What Flame felt, and saw, must be terrible indeed to
turn him all at once into a coward. He faced something that made him
afraid of more than his life merely. The doctor spoke a few quick words
of encouragement to him, and stroked the bristling hair. But without
much success. The collie seemed already beyond the reach of comfort
such as that, and the collapse of the old dog followed indeed very
speedily after this.
And Smoke, meanwhile, remained behind, watching the advance, but not
joining in it; sitting, pleased and expectant, considering that all
was going well and as it wished. It was kneading on the carpet with
its front paws--slowly, laboriously, as though its feet were dipped in
treacle. The sound its claws made as they caught in the threads was
distinctly audible. It was still smiling, blinking, purring.
Suddenly the collie uttered a poignant short bark and leaped heavily to
one side. His bared teeth traced a line of whiteness through the gloom.
The next instant he dashed past his master’s legs, almost upsetting his
balance, and shot out into the room, where he went blundering wildly
against walls and furniture. But that bark was significant; the doctor
had heard it before and knew what it meant: for it was the cry of the
fighter against odds and it meant that the old beast had found his
courage again. Possibly it was only the courage of despair, but at any
rate the fighting would be terrific. And Dr. Silence understood, too,
that he dared not interfere. Flame must fight his own enemies in his
own way.
But the cat, too, had heard that dreadful bark; and it, too, had
understood. This was more than it had bargained for. Across the dim
shadows of that haunted room there must have passed some secret signal
of distress between the animals. Smoke stood up and looked swiftly
about him. He uttered a piteous meow and trotted smartly away into the
greater darkness by the windows. What his object was only those endowed
with the spirit-like intelligence of cats might know. But, at any rate,
he had at last ranged himself on the side of his friend. And the little
beast meant business.
At the same moment the collie managed to gain the door. The doctor saw
him rush through into the hall like a flash of yellow light. He shot
across the oilcloth, and tore up the stairs, but in another second he
appeared again, flying down the steps and landing at the bottom in a
tumbling heap, whining, cringing, terrified. The doctor saw him slink
back into the room again and crawl round by the wall towards the cat.
Was, then, even the staircase occupied? Did _They_ stand also in the
hall? Was the whole house crowded from floor to ceiling?
The thought came to add to the keen distress he felt at the sight of
the collie’s discomfiture. And, indeed, his own personal distress had
increased in a marked degree during the past minutes, and continued
to increase steadily to the climax. He recognised that the drain on
his own vitality grew steadily, and that the attack was now directed
against himself even more than against the defeated dog, and the too
much deceived cat.
It all seemed so rapid and uncalculated after that--the events that
took place in this little modern room at the top of Putney Hill between
midnight and sunrise--that Dr. Silence was hardly able to follow and
remember it all. It came about with such uncanny swiftness and terror;
the light was so uncertain; the movements of the black cat so difficult
to follow on the dark carpet, and the doctor himself so weary and taken
by surprise--that he found it almost impossible to observe accurately,
or to recall afterwards precisely what it was he had seen or in what
order the incidents had taken place. He never could understand what
defect of vision on his part made it seem as though the cat had
duplicated itself at first, and then increased indefinitely, so that
there were at least a dozen of them darting silently about the floor,
leaping softly on to chairs and tables, passing like shadows from the
open door to the end of the room, all black as sin, with brilliant
green eyes flashing fire in all directions. It was like the reflections
from a score of mirrors placed round the walls at different angles.
Nor could he make out at the time why the size of the room seemed to
have altered, grown much larger, and why it extended away behind him
where ordinarily the wall should have been. The snarling of the enraged
and terrified collie sounded sometimes so far away; the ceiling seemed
to have raised itself so much higher than before, and much of the
furniture had changed in appearance and shifted marvellously.
It was all so confused and confusing, as though the little room he knew
had become merged and transformed into the dimensions of quite another
chamber, that came to him, with its host of cats and its strange
distances, in a sort of vision.
But these changes came about a little later, and at a time when his
attention was so concentrated upon the proceedings of Smoke and the
collie, that he only observed them, as it were, subconsciously. And the
excitement, the flickering candlelight, the distress he felt for the
collie, and the distorting atmosphere of fog were the poorest possible
allies to careful observation.
At first he was only aware that the dog was repeating his short
dangerous bark from time to time, snapping viciously at the empty
air, a foot or so from the ground. Once, indeed, he sprang upwards
and forwards, working furiously with teeth and paws, and with a noise
like wolves fighting, but only to dash back the next minute against
the wall behind him. Then, after lying still for a bit, he rose to a
crouching position as though to spring again, snarling horribly and
making short half-circles with lowered head. And Smoke all the while
meowed piteously by the window as though trying to draw the attack upon
himself.
Then it was that the rush of the whole dreadful business seemed to turn
aside from the dog and direct itself upon his own person. The collie
had made another spring and fallen back with a crash into the corner,
where he made noise enough in his savage rage to waken the dead before
he fell to whining and then finally lay still. And directly afterwards
the doctor’s own distress became intolerably acute. He had made a half
movement forward to come to the rescue when a veil that was denser
than mere fog seemed to drop down over the scene, draping room, walls,
animals and fire in a mist of darkness and folding also about his own
mind. Other forms moved silently across the field of vision, forms
that he recognised from previous experiments, and welcomed not. Unholy
thoughts began to crowd into his brain, sinister suggestions of evil
presented themselves seductively. Ice seemed to settle about his heart,
and his mind trembled. He began to lose memory--memory of his identity,
of where he was, of what he ought to do. The very foundations of his
strength were shaken. His will seemed paralysed.
And it was then that the room filled with this horde of cats, all dark
as the night, all silent, all with lamping eyes of green fire. The
dimensions of the place altered and shifted. He was in a much larger
space. The whining of the dog sounded far away, and all about him the
cats flew busily to and fro, silently playing their tearing, rushing
game of evil, weaving the pattern of their dark purpose upon the floor.
He strove hard to collect himself and remember the words of power he
had made use of before in similar dread positions where his dangerous
practice had sometimes led; but he could recall nothing consecutively;
a mist lay over his mind and memory; he felt dazed and his forces
scattered. The deeps within were too troubled for healing power to come
out of them.
It was glamour, of course, he realised afterwards, the strong glamour
thrown upon his imagination by some powerful personality behind the
veil; but at the time he was not sufficiently aware of this and, as
with all true glamour, was unable to grasp where the true ended and
the false began. He was caught momentarily in the same vortex that
had sought to lure the cat to destruction through its delight, and
threatened utterly to overwhelm the dog through its terror.
There came a sound in the chimney behind him like wind booming and
tearing its way down. The windows rattled. The candle flickered and
went out. The glacial atmosphere closed round him with the cold of
death, and a great rushing sound swept by overhead as though the
ceiling had lifted to a great height. He heard the door shut. Far
away it sounded. He felt lost, shelterless in the depths of his soul.
Yet still he held out and resisted while the climax of the fight came
nearer and nearer.... He had stepped into the stream of forces awakened
by Pender and he knew that he must withstand them to the end or come to
a conclusion that it was not good for a man to come to. Something from
the region of utter cold was upon him.
And then quite suddenly, through the confused mists about him, there
slowly rose up the Personality that had been all the time directing
the battle. Some force entered his being that shook him as the
tempest shakes a leaf, and close against his eyes--clean level with
his face--he found himself staring into the wreck of a vast dark
Countenance, a countenance that was terrible even in its ruin.
For ruined it was, and terrible it was, and the mark of spiritual
evil was branded everywhere upon its broken features. Eyes, face and
hair rose level with his own, and for a space of time he never could
properly measure, or determine, these two, a man and a woman, looked
straight into each other’s visages and down into each other’s hearts.
And John Silence, the soul with the good, unselfish motive, held his
own against the dark discarnate woman whose motive was pure evil, and
whose soul was on the side of the Dark Powers.
It was the climax that touched the depth of power within him and began
to restore him slowly to his own. He was conscious, of course, of
effort, and yet it seemed no superhuman one, for he had recognised the
character of his opponent’s power, and he called upon the good within
him to meet and overcome it. The inner forces stirred and trembled
in response to his call. They did not at first come readily as was
their habit, for under the spell of glamour they had already been
diabolically lulled into inactivity, but come they eventually did,
rising out of the inner spiritual nature he had learned with so much
time and pain to awaken to life. And power and confidence came with
them. He began to breathe deeply and regularly, and at the same time
to absorb into himself the forces opposed to him, and to _turn them to
his own account_. By ceasing to resist, and allowing the deadly stream
to pour into him unopposed, he used the very power supplied by his
adversary and thus enormously increased his own.
For this spiritual alchemy he had learned. He understood that force
ultimately is everywhere one and the same; it is the motive behind
that makes it good or evil; and his motive was entirely unselfish. He
knew--provided he was not first robbed of self-control--how vicariously
to absorb these evil radiations into himself and change them magically
into his own good purposes. And, since his motive was pure and his soul
fearless, they could not work him harm.
Thus he stood in the main stream of evil unwittingly attracted by
Pender, deflecting its course upon himself; and after passing through
the purifying filter of his own unselfishness these energies could only
add to his store of experience, of knowledge, and therefore of power.
And, as his self-control returned to him, he gradually accomplished
this purpose, even though trembling while he did so.
Yet the struggle was severe, and in spite of the freezing chill of the
air, the perspiration poured down his face. Then, by slow degrees, the
dark and dreadful countenance faded, the glamour passed from his soul,
the normal proportions returned to walls and ceiling, the forms melted
back into the fog, and the whirl of rushing shadow-cats disappeared
whence they came.
And with the return of the consciousness of his own identity John
Silence was restored to the full control of his own will-power. In a
deep, modulated voice he began to utter certain rhythmical sounds that
slowly rolled through the air like a rising sea, filling the room with
powerful vibratory activities that whelmed all irregularities of lesser
vibrations in its own swelling tone. He made certain sigils, gestures
and movements at the same time. For several minutes he continued to
utter these words, until at length the growing volume dominated the
whole room and mastered the manifestation of all that opposed it. For
just as he understood the spiritual alchemy that can transmute evil
forces by raising them into higher channels, so he knew from long study
the occult use of sound, and its direct effect upon the plastic region
wherein the powers of spiritual evil work their fell purposes. Harmony
was restored first of all to his own soul, and thence to the room and
all its occupants.
And, after himself, the first to recognise it was the old dog lying
in his corner. Flame began suddenly uttering sounds of pleasure, that
“something” between a growl and a grunt that dogs make upon being
restored to their master’s confidence. Dr. Silence heard the thumping
of the collie’s tail against the ground. And the grunt and the thumping
touched the depth of affection in the man’s heart, and gave him some
inkling of what agonies the dumb creature had suffered.
Next, from the shadows by the window, a somewhat shrill purring
announced the restoration of the cat to its normal state. Smoke was
advancing across the carpet. He seemed very pleased with himself, and
smiled with an expression of supreme innocence. He was no shadow-cat,
but real and full of his usual and perfect self-possession. He marched
along, picking his way delicately, but with a stately dignity that
suggested his ancestry with the majesty of Egypt. His eyes no longer
glared; they shone steadily before him; they radiated, not excitement,
but knowledge. Clearly he was anxious to make amends for the mischief
to which he had unwittingly lent himself owing to his subtle and
electric constitution.
Still uttering his sharp high purrings he marched up to his master and
rubbed vigorously against his legs. Then he stood on his hind feet and
pawed his knees and stared beseechingly up into his face. He turned his
head towards the corner where the collie still lay, thumping his tail
feebly and pathetically.
John Silence understood. He bent down and stroked the creature’s living
fur, noting the line of bright blue sparks that followed the motion of
his hand down its back. And then they advanced together towards the
corner where the dog was.
Smoke went first and put his nose gently against his friend’s muzzle,
purring while he rubbed, and uttering little soft sounds of affection
in his throat. The doctor lit the candle and brought it over. He
saw the collie lying on its side against the wall; it was utterly
exhausted, and foam still hung about its jaws. Its tail and eyes
responded to the sound of its name, but it was evidently very weak and
overcome. Smoke continued to rub against its cheek and nose and eyes,
sometimes even standing on its body and kneading into the thick yellow
hair. Flame replied from time to time by little licks of the tongue,
most of them curiously misdirected.
But Dr. Silence felt intuitively that something disastrous had
happened, and his heart was wrung. He stroked the dear body, feeling
it over for bruises or broken bones, but finding none. He fed it with
what remained of the sandwiches and milk, but the creature clumsily
upset the saucer and lost the sandwiches between its paws, so that the
doctor had to feed it with his own hand. And all the while Smoke meowed
piteously.
Then John Silence began to understand. He went across to the farther
side of the room and called aloud to it.
“Flame, old man! come!”
At any other time the dog would have been upon him in an instant,
barking and leaping to the shoulder. And even now he got up, though
heavily and awkwardly, to his feet. He started to run, wagging his
tail more briskly. He collided first with a chair, and then ran
straight into a table. Smoke trotted close at his side, trying his very
best to guide him. But it was useless. Dr. Silence had to lift him up
into his own arms and carry him like a baby. For he was blind.