pain, and my left arm hung limp and powerless. It was fractured below
the elbow. There was no bell in the room, and I limped out in search
of assistance. I made my way painfully along a gloomy corridor, and
hearing a male voice speaking Spanish, I knocked at a door, which
was opened by the landlord. I addressed him, but he shook his head
and gave me to understand that he spoke no English. Unhappily I spoke
no Spanish. Then he smiled as some idea flitted through his mind, and
bowing me into the room he motioned me to be seated, and hurried away.
He returned in about five minutes accompanied by Annette, whom he had
brought to act as interpreter. I was almost tempted to fly at her and
strangle her where she stood. She was undisturbed, calm, and still
smiled. She spoke to the man in Spanish, then she explained to me that
she had told him I had slipped on the polished floor, and falling over
a chair had injured myself, and she had requested him to summon the
village surgeon if need be.
Without waiting for me to reply she swept gracefully out of the room.
Indeed, I could not reply, for I felt as if I were choking with
suppressed rage. The landlord rendered me physical assistance and took
me to my bedroom, where I lay down on the bed, feeling mortified, ill,
and crushed. Half an hour later a queer-looking old man, with long hair
twisted into ringlets, was ushered into my room, and I soon gathered
that he was the village surgeon. He spoke no English, but I explained
my injury by signs, and he went away, returning in a little while with
the necessary bandages and splints, and he proceeded rather clumsily to
bandage my broken arm. I passed a cruel and wretched night. My physical
pain was great, but my mental pain was greater. The thought forced
itself upon me that I had been defeated, and that the fiendish, cunning
woman was too much for me. I felt no resentment against Jack. His act
of violence was the act of a madman, and I pitied him. For hours I
lay revolving all sorts of schemes to try and get him away from the
diabolical influence of Annette. But though I could hit upon nothing,
I firmly resolved that while my life lasted I would make every effort
to save my old friend, and if possible restore him to the bosom of his
distracted wife.
The case altogether was a very remarkable one, and the question
naturally arose, why did a man so highly gifted and so intelligent
as Jack Redcar desert his charming, devoted, and beautiful wife, to
follow an adventuress who entirely lacked physical beauty. Theories
without number might have been suggested to account for the phenomenon,
but not one would have been correct. The true answer is, Annette was
not a natural being. In the ordinary way she might be described as a
woman of perverted moral character, or as a physiological freak, but
that would have been rather a misleading way of putting it. She was,
in short, a human monstrosity. By that I do not mean to say her body
was contorted, twisted, or deformed. But into her human composition had
entered a strain of the fiend; and I might go even further than this
and say she was more animal than human. Though in whatever way she may
be described, it is certain she was an anomaly--a human riddle.
The morning following the outrage upon me found me prostrated and ill.
A night of racking pain and mental distress had told even upon my good
constitution. The situation in which I found myself was a singularly
unfortunate one. I was a foreigner in an out-of-the-way place, and my
want of knowledge of Spanish, of course, placed me at a tremendous
disadvantage.
The landlord came to me and brought his wife, and between them they
attended to my wants, and did what they could for my comfort. But they
were ignorant, uncultivated people, only one remove from the peasant
class, and I realised that they could be of little use to me. Now the
nearest important town to this Alpine village was Santander, but that
was nearly a hundred miles away. As everyone knows who has been in
Spain, a hundred miles, even on a railway, is a considerable journey;
but there was no railway between Santander and Potes. An old ramshackle
vehicle, called a diligence, ran between the two places every day in
the summer and twice a week in the winter, and it took fourteen hours
to do the journey. Even a well-appointed carriage and pair could not
cover the distance under eight hours, as the road was infamous, and
in parts was little better than a mule track. I knew that there was
a British consul in Santander, and I was hopeful that if I could
communicate with him he might be able to render me some assistance.
In the meantime I had to devise some scheme for holding Annette in
check and saving my friend. But in my crippled and prostrate condition
I could not do much. While lying in my bed, and thus revolving all
these things in my mind, the door gently opened and Annette glided
in--‘glided’ best expresses her movement, for she seemed to put forth
no effort. She sat down beside the bed and laid her hand on mine.
‘You are ill this morning,’ she said softly. ‘This is regrettable,
but you have only yourself to blame. It is dangerous to interfere in
matters in which you have no concern. My business is mine, Mr. Redcar’s
is his, and yours is your own, but the three won’t amalgamate. Jack and
I came here for the sake of the peace and quietness of these solitudes;
unhappily you intrude yourself and disaster follows.’
Her voice was as silvery as ever. The same calm self-possessed air
characterised her; but in her oily eyes was a peculiar light, and I
had to turn away, for they exerted a sort of mesmeric influence over
me, and I am convinced that had I not exerted all my will power I
should have thrown myself into the creature’s arms. This is a fact
which I have no hesitation in stating, as it serves better than any
other illustration to show what a wonderful power of fascination the
remarkable woman possessed. Naturally I felt disgusted and enraged,
but I fully recognised that I could not fight the woman openly; I must
to some extent meet her with her own weapons. She was cunning, artful,
insidious, pitiless, and the basilisk-like power she possessed not only
gave her a great advantage but made her a very dangerous opponent.
At any rate, having regard to all the circumstances and my crippled
condition, I saw that my only chance was in temporising with her. So I
tried to reason with her, and I pointed out that Redcar had been guilty
of baseness in leaving his wife, who was devoted to him.
At this point of my argument Annette interrupted me, and for the first
time she displayed something like passion, and her voice became hard
and raucous.
‘His wife,’ she said with a sneer of supreme contempt. ‘A poor fool,
a fleshly doll. At the precise instant I set my eyes upon her for the
first time I felt that I should like to destroy her, because she is a
type of woman who makes the world common-place and reduce all men to a
common level. She hated me from the first and I hated her. She would
have crushed me if she could, but she was too insignificant a worm to
do that, and I crushed her.’
This cold, brutal callousness enraged me; I turned fiercely upon her
and exclaimed:
‘Leave me, you are a more infamous and heartless wretch than I believed
you to be. You are absolutely unworthy the name of woman, and if you
irritate me much more I may even forget that you have a woman’s shape.’
She spoke again. All trace of passion had disappeared. She smiled the
wicked insidious smile which made her so dangerous, and her voice
resumed its liquid, silvery tones:
‘You are very violent,’ she said gently, ‘and it will do you harm
in your condition. But you see violence can be met with violence.
The gentleman you are pleased to call your friend afforded you
painful evidence last night that he knows how to resent unjustifiable
interference, and to take care of himself. I am under his protection,
and there is no doubt he will protect me.’
‘For God’s sake, leave me!’ I cried, tortured beyond endurance by her
hypocrisy and wickedness.
‘Oh, certainly, if you desire it,’ she answered, as she rose from her
seat. ‘But I thought I might be of use. It is useless your trying to
influence Mr. Redcar--absolutely useless. His destiny is linked with
mine, and the human being doesn’t exist who can sunder us. With this
knowledge, you will do well to retrace your steps; and, if you like,
I will arrange to have you comfortably conveyed to Santander, where
you can get a vessel. Anyway, you will waste your time and retard your
recovery by remaining here.’
‘I intend to remain here, nevertheless,’ I said, with set teeth. ‘And,
what is more, madame, when I go my friend Redcar will accompany me.’
She laughed. She patted my head as a mother might pat the head of her
child. She spoke in her most insidious, silvery tones.
‘We shall see, mon cher--we shall see. You will be better to-morrow.
Adieu!’
That was all she said, and she was gone. She glided out of the room as
she had glided in.
I felt irritated almost into madness for some little time; but as I
reflected, it was forced upon me that I had to deal with a monster of
iniquity, who had so subdued the will of her victim, Redcar, that he
was a mere wooden puppet in her hand. Force in such a case was worse
than useless. What I had to do was to try and circumvent her, and I
tried to think out some plan of action.
All that day I was compelled to keep my bed, and, owing to the clumsy
way in which my arm had been bandaged, I suffered intolerable pain,
and had to send for the old surgeon again to come and help me to reset
the fracture. I got some ease after that, and a dose of chloral sent
me to sleep, which continued for many hours. When I awoke I managed to
summon the landlord, and he brought me food, and a lantern containing a
candle so that I might have light. And, in compliance with my request,
he made me a large jug of lemonade, in order that I could have a drink
in the night, for I was feverish, and my throat was parched. He had no
sooner left the room than Annette entered to inquire if she could do
anything for me. I told her that I had made the landlord understand all
that I desired, and he would look after me, so she wished me good-night
and left. Knowing as I did that sleep was very essential in my case, I
swallowed another, though smaller, dose of chloral, and then there was
a blank.
How long I slept I really don’t know; but suddenly, in a dazed sort of
way, I saw a strange sight. The room I occupied was a long, somewhat
meagrely furnished, one. The entrance door was at the extreme end,
opposite the bed. Over the doorway hung a faded curtain of green
velvet. By the feeble light of the candle lantern I saw this curtain
slowly pulled on one side by a white hand; then a face peered in; next
Annette entered. Her long hair was hanging down her back, and she wore
a nightdress of soft, clinging substance, which outlined her figure.
With never a sound she moved lightly towards the bed, and waved her
hand two or three times over my face. I tried to move, to utter a
sound, but couldn’t; and yet what I am describing was no dream, but
a reality. Slightly bending over me, she poured from a tiny phial
she carried in the palm of her hand a few drops of a slightly acrid,
burning liquid right into my mouth, and at that instant, as I believe,
it seemed to me as if a thick, heavy pall fell over my eyes, for all
was darkness.
I awoke hours later. The winter sun was shining brightly into my
room. I felt strangely languid, and had a hot, stinging sensation
in my throat. I felt my pulse, and found it was only beating at
the rate of fifty-eight beats in the minute. Then I recalled the
extraordinary incident of the previous night, which, had it not been
for my sensations, I might have regarded as a bad dream, the outcome
of a disturbed state of the brain. But as it was, I hadn’t a doubt
that Annette had administered some subtle and slow poison to me. My
medical knowledge enabled me to diagnose my own case so far, that I
was convinced I was suffering from the effects of a potent poisonous
drug, the action of which was to lower the action of the vital forces
and weaken the heart. Being probably cumulative, a few doses more or
less, according to the strength of the subject, and the action of the
heart would be so impeded that the organ would cease to beat. Although
all this passed through my brain, I felt so weak and languid that I had
neither energy nor strength to arouse myself, and when the landlord
brought me in some food I took no notice of him. I knew that this
symptom of languor and indifference was very characteristic of certain
vegetable poisons, though what it was Annette had administered to me I
could not determine.
Throughout that day I lay in a drowsy, dreamy state. At times my brain
was clear enough, and I was able to think and reason; but there were
blanks, marked, no doubt, by periods of sleep.
When night came I felt a little better, and I found that the heart’s
action had improved. It was steadier, firmer, and the pulse indicated
sixty-two beats. Now I had no doubt that if it was Annette’s intention
to bring about my death slowly she would come again that night, and
arousing myself as well as I could, and summoning all my will power,
I resolved to be on the watch. During the afternoon I had drunk milk
freely, regarding it as an antidote, and when the landlord visited me
for the last time that evening I made him understand that I wanted a
large jug of milk fresh from the cow, if he could get it. He kept cows
of his own; they were confined in a chalet on the mountain side, not
far from his house, so that he was able to comply with my request.
I took a long draught of this hot milk, which revived my energies
wonderfully, and then I waited for developments. I had allowed my watch
to run down, consequently I had no means of knowing the time. It was
a weary vigil, lying there lonely and ill, and struggling against the
desire for sleep.
By-and-by I saw the white hand lift the curtain again, and Annette
entered, clad as she was on the previous night. When she came within
reach of me I sprang up in the bed and seized her wrist.
‘What do you want here?’ I demanded angrily. ‘Do you mean to murder me?’
Her imperturbability was exasperating. She neither winced nor cried
out, nor displayed the slightest sign of surprise. She merely remarked
in her soft cooing voice, her white teeth showing as her thin lips
parted in a smile:
‘You are evidently restless and excited to-night, and it is hardly
generous of you to treat my kindly interest in such a way.’
‘Kindly interest!’ I echoed with a sneer, as, releasing her wrist, I
fell back on the bed.
‘Yes; you haven’t treated me well, and you are an intruder here.
Nevertheless, as you are a stranger amongst strangers, and cannot speak
the language of the country, I would be of service to you if I could. I
have come to see if you have everything you require for the night.’
‘And you did the same last night,’ I cried in hot anger, for, knowing
her infamy and wickedness, I could not keep my temper.
‘Certainly,’ she answered coolly; ‘and I found you calmly dozing, so
left you.’
‘Yes--after you had poured poison down my throat,’ I replied.
She broke into a laugh--a rippling laugh, with the tinkle of silver in
it--and she seemed hugely amused.
‘Well, well,’ she said; ‘it is obvious, sir, you are not in a fit state
to be left alone. Your nerves are evidently unstrung, and you are
either the victim of a bad dream or some strange delusion. But there,
there; I will pardon you. You are not responsible just at present for
your language.’
As she spoke she passed her soft white hand over my forehead. There was
magic in her touch, and it seemed as if all my will had left me, and
there stole over me a delightful sense of dreamy languor. I looked at
her, and I saw her strange eyes change colour. They became illumined,
as it were, by a violet light that fascinated me so that I could not
turn from her. Indeed, I was absolutely subdued to her will now.
Everything in the room faded, and I saw nothing but those marvellous
eyes glowing with violet light which seemed to fill me with a feeling
of ecstasy. I have a vague idea that she kept passing her hand over
my face and forehead; that she breathed upon my face; then that she
pressed her face to mine, and I felt her hot breath in my neck.
Perhaps it will be said that I dreamed all this. I don’t believe it was
a dream. I firmly and honestly believe that every word I have written
is true.
Hours afterwards my dulled brain began to awake to things mundane.
The morning sun was flooding the room, and I was conscious that
somebody stood over me, and soon I recognised the old surgeon, who
had come to see that the splints and bandages had not shifted. I felt
extraordinarily weak, and I found that my pulse was beating very slowly
and feebly. Again I had the burning feeling in the throat and a strange
and absolutely indescribable sensation at the side of the neck. The old
doctor must have recognised that I was unusually feeble, for he went to
the landlord, and returned presently with some cognac which he made me
swallow, and it picked me up considerably.
After his departure I lay for some time, and tried to give definite
shape to vague and dreadful thoughts that haunted me, and filled me
with a shrinking horror. That Annette was a monster in human form I
hadn’t a doubt, and I felt equally certain that she had designs upon
my life. That she had now administered poison to me on two occasions
seemed to me beyond question, but I hesitated to believe that she was
guilty of the unspeakable crime which my sensations suggested.
At last, unable longer to endure the tumult in my brain, I sprang out
of bed, rushed to the looking-glass, and examined my neck. I literally
staggered back, and fell prostrate on the bed, overcome by the hideous
discovery I had made. It had the effect, however, of calling me back to
life and energy, and I made a mental resolution that I would, at all
hazards, save my friend, though I clearly recognised how powerless I
was to cope with the awful creature single-handed.
I managed to dress myself, not without some difficulty; then I summoned
the landlord, and made him understand that I must go immediately to
Santander at any cost. My intention was to invoke the aid of the consul
there. But the more I insisted, the more the old landlord shook his
head. At length, in desperation, I rushed from the house, hoping to
find somebody who understood French or English. As I almost ran up
the village street I came face to face with a priest. I asked him in
English if he spoke my language, but he shook his head. Then I tried
him with French, and to my joy he answered me that he understood a
little French. I told him of my desire to start for Santander that
very day, but he said that it was impossible, as, owing to the unusual
hot sun in the daytime there had been a great melting of snow, with
the result that a flooded river had destroyed a portion of the road;
and though a gang of men had been set to repair it, it would be two or
three days before it was passable.
‘But is there no other way of going?’ I asked.
‘Only by a very hazardous route over the mountains,’ he answered. And
he added that the risk was so great it was doubtful if anyone could be
found who would act as guide. ‘Besides,’ he went on, ‘you seem very ill
and weak. Even a strong man might fail, but you would be certain to
perish from exhaustion and exposure.’
I was bound to recognise the force of his argument. It was a maddening
disappointment, but there was no help for it. Then it occurred to me
to take the old priest into my confidence and invoke his aid. Though,
on second thoughts, I hesitated, for was it not possible--nay, highly
probable--that if I told the horrible story he and others would think
I was mad. Annette was a Spanish woman, and it was feasible to suppose
she would secure the ear of those ignorant villagers sooner than I
should. No, I would keep the ghastly business to myself for the present
at any rate, and wait with such patience as I could command until I
could make the journey to Santander. The priest promised me that on
the morrow he would let me know if the road was passable, and, if so,
he would procure me a carriage and make all the preparations for the
journey. So, thanking him for his kindly services, I turned towards
the hotel again. As I neared the house I observed two persons on the
mountain path that went up among the pine trees. The sun was shining
brilliantly; the sky was cloudless, the air crisp and keen. The two
persons were Annette and Redcar. I watched them for some minutes until
they were lost to sight amongst the trees.
Suddenly an irresistible impulse to follow them seized me. Why I know
not. Indeed, had I paused to reason with myself it would have seemed
to me then a mad act, and that I was risking my life to no purpose.
But I did not reason. I yielded to the impulse, though first of all I
went to my room, put on a thicker pair of boots, and armed myself with
a revolver which I had brought with me. During my extensive travelling
about America a revolver was a necessity, and by force of habit I
put it up with my clothes when packing my things in London for my
Continental journey.
Holding the weapon between my knees, I put a cartridge in each barrel,
and, providing myself with a stick in addition, I went forth again
and began to climb the mountain path. I was by no means a sanguinary
man; even my pugnacity could only be aroused after much irritation.
Nevertheless, I knew how to defend myself, and in this instance,
knowing that I had to deal with a woman who was capable of any crime,
and who, I felt sure, would not hesitate to take my life if she got the
chance, I deemed it advisable to be on my guard against any emergency
that might arise. As regards Redcar, he had already given me forcible
and painful evidence that he could be dangerous; but I did not hold
him responsible for his actions. I regarded him as being temporarily
insane owing to the infernal influence the awful woman exercised over
him. Therefore it would only have been in the very last extremity that
I should have resorted to lethal weapons as a defence against him. My
one sole aim, hope, desire, prayer, was to rescue him from the spell
that held him in thrall and restore him to his wife, his honour, his
sanity. With respect to Annette, it was different. She was a blot on
nature, a disgrace to humankind, and, rather than let her gain complete
ascendency over me and my friend, I would have shot her if I had reason
to believe she contemplated taking my life. It might have involved me
in serious trouble with the authorities at first, for in Spain the
foreigner can hope but for little justice. I was convinced, however,
that ultimately I should be exonerated.
Such were the thoughts that filled my mind as I painfully made my way
up the steep mountain side. My fractured arm was exceedingly painful.
Every limb in my body ached, and I was so languid, so weak that it was
with difficulty I dragged myself along. But worse than all this was an
all but irresistible desire to sleep, the result, I was certain, of the
poison that had been administered to me. But it would have been fatal
to have slept. I knew that, and so I fought against the inclination
with all my might and main, and allowed my thoughts to dwell on poor
little Maude Redcar, waiting desolate and heartbroken in London for
news. This supplied me with the necessary spur and kept me going.
The trees were nearly all entirely bare of snow. It had, I was
informed, been an unusually mild season, and at that time the sun’s
rays were very powerful. The path I was pursuing was nothing more than
a rough track worn by the peasants passing between the valley and their
hay chalets dotted about the mountain. Snow lay on the path where it
was screened from the sun by the trees. I heard no sound, saw no sign
of those I was seeking save here and there footprints in the snow. I
frequently paused and listened, but the stillness was unbroken save for
the subdued murmur of falling water afar off.
In my weakened condition the exertion I had endured had greatly
distressed me; my heart beat tumultuously, my pulses throbbed
violently, and my breathing was stertorous. I was compelled at last to
sit down and rest. I was far above the valley now, and the pine trees
were straggling and sparse. The track had become very indistinct, but I
still detected the footsteps of the people I was following. Above the
trees I could discern the snow-capped Picos de Europa glittering in
the brilliant sun. It was a perfect Alpine scene, which, under other
circumstances, I might have revelled in. But I felt strangely ill,
weak, and miserable, and drowsiness began to steal upon me, so that
I made a sudden effort of will and sprang up again, and resumed the
ascent.