lying stunned and dazed for nearly three weeks, I began to realise
once more that I was in the world of the living. Listen to it, I say,
and you will not be surprised that I thirsted for vengeance. Up above
the valley of Paraúna was a wild, barren, sun-scorched plateau which,
after some three leagues or so, dipped abruptly into a gorge of great
extent filled with virgin forest. Just where the plateau joined this
belt of vegetation, the searchers found the bodies of Juliette and
Jocelino. They were lying on their backs, and between them was a huge
dead coral snake, one of the most deadly reptiles found in the Brazils.
As it is not unusual for those who are bitten by this hideous creature
to die almost immediately, so virulent and powerful is the venom it
injects into the blood of its victims, that it was not an unnatural
thought that both Juliette and the old servant had been bitten by the
reptile. But two things served to almost instantly dispel this belief.
The head of the snake was crushed, and on the bosom of sweet Juliette’s
dress, as well as on the shirt of the man, was a great patch of blood.
And when the bodies were brought down and examined by a doctor it was
discovered that both had died by being stabbed to the heart with a long
thin knife, and there was no sign or symptom of snake-bite.
The dead coral snake lying between them, therefore, only added to
the mystery. The horses they had ridden returned after many days by
themselves. They had evidently wandered far and suffered much, but
they were dumb and could tell nothing of the awful tale. They still
carried their saddles and trappings. Nothing had been stolen. The
mystery deepened, but about the mode of death there was no mystery. It
was murder. Murder, cruel, revolting, damnable. Where the bodies were
found a diligent search was made for the weapon with which the crime
was committed, but it was not discovered. Jocelino, like all Brazilians
who live in the country, carried a hunting knife, but it was long and
broad, and it was resting unstained in its sheath attached to his belt.
Again I say it was murder--cruel, fiendish, deliberate murder. A crime
so foul that it must have made the angels weep, and yet no angel in
heaven stretched forth his hand to save my beloved from her awful end.
Bowed and broken though he was, Senhor Souza thirsted for vengeance
on the slayer of his child, whom he loved with a tenderness passing
words, and he offered a lavish reward to anyone who would track the
murderer down. To any individual of the people of that region the
reward would have been a fortune, and Brazilian and Indian alike were
stimulated to almost superhuman exertion. But the mystery defied their
solving. The bodies lying side by side and the dead snake between them
were elements in the puzzle to which no brain in that community seemed
capable of finding an answer. As days went by and there was no result
the reward was increased. The authorities themselves, usually lethargic
and indifferent in Brazil, bestirred themselves in an unusual manner;
but nothing came of it all. And as I began to drift back slowly to the
living world, the old Senhor took to his bed, for his heart was broken.
And it was decreed that he should rise no more as a man amongst men,
for after lingering helpless and imbecile for many months, they carried
him forth one golden day amidst the lamentations of his people, and
laid him to rest beside his daughter.
And now what of myself? I have that still to tell which, for ghastly
horror, has scarcely any parallel.
When I was able to realise the full measure of my sorrow, I knew that
my beloved wife had been foully slain, and the motive for the crime
was hard to define. But it seemed to me as I examined into the matter
that probably she and the old servant had fallen victims to some
strange superstition, and that might account for the dead snake being
found between them. But whatever the motive that led to this diabolical
destruction of two human beings, it was exceedingly desirable that the
criminal should be discovered, so that he might be made an example
of, as a terror to others who were inclined to evil-doing. In Brazil,
unhappily, crime is common, but detection rare; at least, it is so in
the wilder parts of the country. Money, however, is so greedily coveted
by Brazilian and Indian alike that I watched with feverish yet hopeful
anxiety the result of my father-in-law’s large reward. And when I found
there were no results, I added to it considerably myself, and I sent
to Rio for a man who bore a high reputation as a detective. He was a
half-breed in the Government employ, but he was just as much a failure
as anyone else. He learnt nothing. The mystery remained a mystery.
After this it seemed to me that further effort would be useless,
for weeks had passed since the commission of the deed, and every
day that went by only served to increase the difficulty. Around us
was an immense tract of country consisting of valley, mountain, and
virgin forest. Most of the tract was sparsely populated. There were no
telegraph wires, no railways.
As may be supposed, I felt reluctant to tear myself away from the spot
where my sweet one slept--notwithstanding that the place was hateful to
me, for it was associated with her mysterious death. But duty called,
and I had already been too long absent from my post. Everything,
however, seemed hateful to me. Life itself had lost its savour, for
the light of my life had gone out. No man could have been happier than
I when I arrived in Paraúna. A few short weeks and that happiness
had been turned to a sorrow so deep, so overwhelming that I solemnly
declare I would have faced death with the most perfect resignation,
and with the sure and certain hope that I should meet my darling in
a world where there is neither sorrow nor sighing. But my departure
could no longer be delayed, and my preparations being completed I had
arranged to start on the morrow.
That night, after my evening meal, I sat alone, feeling miserable,
dejected, broken-hearted, when there came to me old José, one of the
station hands. He had been born and brought up in the Paraúna district,
and had never travelled fifty leagues away from his birthplace. He
was intensely superstitious, intensely devout, and no less intensely
bigoted; but he had been a faithful servitor, and though he was then
bowed and frail he was still retained in the service.
‘Senhor,’ he began, making a profound obeisance, ‘truly it is sad that
the mystery of your sweet lady’s and Jocelino’s death has not been
solved. But what money has failed to accomplish devilry may do.’
He looked so strange that I thought he must have been indulging too
freely in the native wine, and I asked sharply, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Let not your anger fall on me, Senhor. I do not practise devilry
myself; the saints guard me from it.’ Here he shuddered and crossed
himself. ‘But I have heard some wonderful stories of Anita, though, God
be praised, I have given her a wide berth.’ He crossed himself again.
‘Anita! who is Anita?’ I exclaimed impatiently.
‘The devil’s agent, Senhor,’ he answered, ‘as all the country knows for
miles round; but few can look upon her and live.’
‘Do not befool me with this nonsense,’ I said. ‘I am sick at heart, and
weary. Go. Leave me. I am in no mood to listen to silly stories.’
‘Nay, Senhor, I have no desire to befool you. But Anita--may the Virgin
guard us from evil--is a witch, and they do say she has power over life
and death. Perhaps--I only say perhaps--she might help you to bring the
murderer to justice.’
Although I was irritated and annoyed, and inclined to peremptorily
order the old fellow out of my presence, I restrained myself, he seemed
so earnest, so sincere. So I was induced to question him further, and
I learnt that somewhere up in the mountains an old and withered woman
dwelt in a cavern, and consorted with snakes and wild animals, but was
shunned by human beings as a rule, for she was said to possess the evil
eye, and it was generally believed that she could assume any shape,
and drive men mad with fear. Anyway she was accredited with superhuman
powers, and could show you your future as well as read your past.
I suppose that the frame of mind I was then in, coupled with a
remembrance of the extraordinary incidents in Rio, had something to do
with my desire to know more of this witch-woman, and I asked José if he
could take me to her. But he seemed startled by the bare suggestion,
and again made the sign of the cross on his breast and forehead. No,
he could not, and would not, though I poured gold in sackfuls at his
feet; but there was Torquato, the negro in the village, he might for a
consideration conduct me to Anita. Torquato was a dissolute, drunken
fellow; by calling, a hunter, and used to making long and lonely
journeys over the prairies and into the depths of the virgin forests.
He was daring withal, and he had boasted in his cups that he had often
sat with Anita, and she had shown him wonders. But of course no one
believed him. They called him braggart and liar. Anxious to test if
there was any truth in José’s wonderful stories of Anita’s power, I
bade him fetch Torquato to me. What I had witnessed in Rio and what
had happened since had removed my scepticism, if ever I had been
sceptical, and now I was disposed to clutch at any desperate chance
that promised to solve the mystery. In about an hour Torquato was
introduced to me. He was a pure negro of powerful build, but beyond
that was not remarkable. He was ignorant, but intelligent, and had the
instincts of the born hunter. I questioned him closely. Yes, he knew
Anita, he assured me, and could guide me to her. She was undoubtedly in
league with the Evil One, he averred, and could perform miracles. The
only way I could propitiate her would be by taking her an offering of
tobacco and rum, for which she had a great partiality. My curiosity
being aroused, I resolved to postpone my journey, and start off at
daybreak, with Torquato as guide, to visit Anita, for he undertook to
guide me, and said that as he had always propitiated the witch-woman
he did not fear her, but he would not be answerable for me. I must
take all risk. The weather, which up to then had been exceptionally
fine, changed in the night, and the morning broke with a threatening
and lowering sky. The natives predicted a great storm, but in that
region a storm threatens long before it breaks, so I started off with
Torquato, for I could not restrain my impatience; he carrying on his
broad shoulders a knapsack containing, amongst other things, a quantity
of rum and tobacco, in accordance with his advice. I had taken the
precaution to fully arm myself. I had a double-barrelled hunting rifle,
a six-chambered revolver, and a formidable hunting knife, as well as
a plentiful supply of ammunition. Our road lay by a rough track that
wound up precipitous slopes; then across a strip of prairie and forest;
and finally we had to toil up a sun-smitten, weather-scarred mountain
side. But during our journey we had caught no glimpse of the sun. The
overcast sky had been growing blacker and blacker, and when we reached
the mountain heavy drops of rain began to patter down, and from out
the darkened heavens there leapt a blinding flash of fire that seemed
to extend from horizon to horizon; it was followed instantly by a peal
of thunder that crashed and reverberated until one could almost have
imagined that the end of all things had come. So terrific are these
storms in the highlands of Brazil that they are very alarming to anyone
unaccustomed to them; moreover, the deluge of rain that falls makes a
shelter not only desirable but necessary. Fortunately, the rain was
only spitting then, but Torquato began to look round anxiously for
shelter, when, with quite startling suddenness, and as if she had risen
from the earth, a woman stood before us, and demanded to know what we
wanted there. She was the wildest, weirdest, strangest looking woman
I have ever set eyes upon. She was almost a dwarf in stature, with
misshapen limbs, and long skinny arms out of all proportion to the
rest of her body. Her face--I declare it solemnly--was hardly human.
It was more like a gargoyle from some old cathedral. A few scant grey
hairs covered her head; and her chin and lips were also covered with a
growth of wiry grey hair. Curiously enough, she had excellent teeth,
which were in striking contrast to the rest of her appearance, and her
eyes, deep sunk in their sockets and overhung with a pent-house fringe
of wiry hair, were keen and brilliant as a hawk’s, and seemed to look
not at you but through you. The upper part of her body was clothed with
a blanket, tied with a piece of rope at the waist, but her arms, legs,
and feet were bare.
This singular-looking being was the woman we were seeking. Torquato
recognised and saluted her, and spoke some words in the Indian language
which I did not understand. She then addressed me in Portuguese, and as
I marvelled at her perfect teeth and brilliant eyes, I marvelled still
more at the clearness of her voice. Its tones were the dulcet tones of
a young girl’s. Indeed, I am not sure if that is a right description,
for a girl’s voice is often harsh, whereas Anita’s was sweet and
mellow. But in general appearance no more repulsive being could be
imagined, and it was easy to understand how great an influence she
could exert over the minds of superstitious people; nor am I ashamed to
confess that I myself regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
‘The Senhor seeks me?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘Follow then, and I will give you shelter from the storm.’
She turned and led the way up the mountain. Although her feet were
bare, the rocks made no impression upon her, and yet my feet were
hurt, well shod as I was. Suddenly we came upon a sort of rocky
platform before the entrance to a cave. It was on the very edge of a
deep ravine--a rent in the earth, caused probably by an earthquake in
the first instance, and gradually widened and deepened by the action
of water. The sides of this ravine went down in broken precipices
for thousands of feet, and were clothed with dense undergrowth and
monstrous ferns, the home, as one could well imagine, of every reptile
and loathsome insect to be found in Brazil. At the bottom of the ravine
was a brawling river.
We had scarcely gained the shelter of the cave, at the mouth of which
some wood ashes still smouldered, when the storm burst with appalling
fury. We could see the lightning occasionally smite the rocks, tearing
off great masses and hurling them into the dark depths of the ravine,
where probably human foot had never yet trod; while the roll of the
thunder was so awful that it seemed like the bursting up of the
universe. Anita appeared to delight in the storm, and now and again she
raised her long skinny arms straight up above her head and laughed like
one demented. Presently she turned and motioned us to follow her, and
led the way into the depths of the cavern, having first lighted a pine
torch which she drew from a recess in the rocks, and plunged it into
the glowing ashes. We went along a kind of corridor, but had to stoop
low to avoid battering our skulls against the jagged roof. The floor
was wet and soft, and Anita, in answer to my inquiries, said it was due
to a natural spring of water which gave her a supply all the year round.
When we had traversed about a dozen yards, the roof got higher in the
passage, and after another few yards we found ourselves in a spacious
chamber, with an almost perfectly level floor. Looking up, one could
see nothing but darkness, so high was the roof, and beyond was what
appeared to be another passage. The cavern, according to Anita,
penetrated into the bowels of the mountains for more than a league,
but she alone knew the secrets of those inner passages and chambers,
and would reveal them to no one. I was led to inquire the cause of
a strange rumbling noise I heard, and she told me it was due to a
subterranean river.
In the chamber in which we found ourselves a hammock was stretched
from two opposite points of rock, and afforded the witch good sleeping
quarters, no doubt. There were also two or three wooden stools about,
and on the floor, arranged on what appeared to be a square of carpet,
was a miscellaneous collection of articles, including an old-fashioned
sword, some peculiarly shaped goblets, a large wooden bowl, some human
bones, several knives, including a hunting knife, an old gun, and
various boxes. In another corner of the chamber I noticed a quantity
of cooking utensils, which seemed to indicate that there was a good
deal of the human about the old witch after all, and that if she loved
solitude she also liked a certain amount of comfort. In such a country
a woman of that kind was sure to get an evil reputation, whether she
deserved it or not.
At my bidding Torquato unpacked his knapsack, and I presented my
peace-offering of tobacco and rum, which the hag accepted with every
sign of gratification, and filling a wooden cup with some of the rum,
tossed it off at a draught. She had stuck the torch in a niche or
hole in the rock, and its flickering, dancing flame threw a Rembrandt
weirdness over the scene; and every time the woman’s eyes caught the
flame they glowed and glistened with such an unnatural light that
I experienced a sense of creepiness which is hard to describe. The
woman’s whole appearance was so uncanny that while the hammock and the
cooking utensils proclaimed her human, she seemed altogether unnatural,
and, I am bound to add, devilish. She squatted on the floor while I and
Torquato occupied stools. I told her the purpose of my errand; and the
whole of the time while I was speaking she fixed her glowing eyes upon
me, but they did not look at me, but through me. When I had finished my
story she drew her knees up, rested her chin on them, and became very
thoughtful; and though I spoke to her several times, she made no reply,
and Torquato said she was in a trance. Whether that was really so or
not I don’t know. But when the silence had remained unbroken for nearly
half an hour, she rose up slowly, and not without a certain dignity and
grace, and turning her glowing eyes on me, said:
‘In three days the Senhor will come here again when the sun is
declining, and I will talk with him.’
‘But why not now,’ I asked, beginning to regard her as a humbug whose
strange and uncouth appearance helped her to pass as a witch-woman.
‘I have spoken. In three days,’ she replied, in such a decisive,
commanding manner that I felt further parley would be useless.
‘And can Torquato come with me?’ I asked.
‘Yes. ’Tis well he should. Go.’
There was no mistaking that peremptory order to depart; and, led by
the negro, I groped my way back along the corridor, and was thankful
to get into the open air. The rain had ceased, but the thunder still
growled, the lightning still flashed; the air was delightful and
refreshing after the rain. We stood for a few minutes at the entrance
to the cavern, drinking in pure draughts of the cool fresh air, when
suddenly there issued from the cave an eldritch scream, so piercing, so
agonising that it seemed to indicate suffering beyond human endurance,
so startling that I instinctively made a movement to rush back into
the interior of the cavern with a view to ascertaining the cause of
that awful cry. But Torquato gripped my arm like a vice, and drew me
forcibly away. His eyes were filled with a scared expression, and his
face told of deadly fear working within.
‘Come away, come,’ he whispered with suppressed excitement. ‘Anita is
quarrelling with her master the Devil, and he is scourging her.’
I could hardly refrain from bursting into laughter at this statement;
but Torquato looked so serious, so terribly in earnest, and evidently
so firmly believed in what he said that I refrained. He continued to
drag me along for some distance before he released my arm. He was then
breathless and agitated, and sat down on a rock, and removing his large
grass hat, he scraped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.
I was sorry, when I came to think of it, that I had allowed myself
to be baulked in my intention to learn the cause of the strange wild
cry which presumably came from Anita’s lips; and for an instant I was
tempted to reascend the mountain and enter the cavern again. But a
glance at Torquato’s scared face caused me to alter my mind, and in a
few minutes we recommenced the descent, and in due time got back to the
station. I had then come to feel a conviction that Anita was a humbug,
and the scream was part of her imposition.
It was with something like feverish anxiety that I waited for the three
days to pass. I really had no faith at that time in Anita’s powers
to tell me what I wished to know; but she was a remarkable creature,
so uncanny and weird and wild in her aspects, so interesting as a
study of abnormity that I was anxious to know more of her. I think I
may safely say curiosity prompted me more than anything else, though
I thought there was a bare possibility she _might_ be able to clear
up the mystery. When the morning of the third day came I found that
Torquato was reluctant to again visit Anita, but at last I overcame
his reluctance and scruples by the medium of silver dollars liberally
bestowed, and without making known the objects of our journey we set
off, well-armed as before, and well-provided with food in case of need.
We hadn’t the advantage of a clouded sky as on the previous visit,
and the sun beat down with pitiless rays from the clear blue heavens.
The heat was intense and tried my powers of endurance very much, but
Torquato, being a child of the sun, was indifferent to the heat. As
I suffered a good deal our progress was necessarily slow. Moreover,
we had to exercise extreme caution on account of the numerous deadly
snakes that lay in our path basking in the broiling sun, amongst them
being the brilliant dazzling coral snake, one of the most beautiful
but most deadly of the serpent tribe. It is a very vicious brute, and
is said to be the only snake in Brazil that will attack a man without
provocation--though in some districts the same thing is said about
the Sorocotinga, which is also terribly deadly, and with no beauty to
fascinate as in the case of the coral.
So slow was our progress that the sun was far down towards the western
horizon when we reached our destination. We were startled by suddenly
and unexpectedly coming upon Anita squatted on her haunches before the
entrance to the cavern, while round her right arm was coiled a coral
snake, its head moving backwards and forwards with a rhythmical sway.
Instinctively I drew back, for the sight was so repulsive, but Anita
rose and told us to follow her, and when I expressed my dislike of the
snake, she waved her left hand before it, and its head and neck dropped
straight down as if it were dead. I was amazed, for this power over
the deadly reptile proved in itself that she was no ordinary being,
although she might be an impostor in other respects.
Both Torquato and myself hesitated to follow the hag; when noticing
this she turned angrily and cried:
‘Why come you here if you are afraid? You seek knowledge which I alone
can give you. If you are cowards, go at once and come here no more.’
The taunt had its effect. I did my best to overcome the repugnance
and even horror that I felt and entered the cavern with boldness, or
at any rate assumed boldness, and Torquato followed. We reached the
inner chamber where we had been on the previous visit. A burning torch
was stuck in the rock, and threw a blood-red glare over the scene. I
noted that the carpet was no longer there, but in its place stood a
peculiarly shaped brazier containing living charcoal that gave off
unpleasant fumes.
The old woman uncoiled the snake from her arm. It offered no
resistance. It appeared to be perfectly passive. Then she coiled it
into the figure of 8 at her feet, and told us to sit cross-legged on
the ground as she did.
‘You seek to know the past,’ she said, fixing her awful eyes upon me.
‘Yes.’
‘But not the future?’
‘No.’
‘’Tis well.’