Herr Carovius and Jordan were sitting in the Paradise Cafe.
"How things change, and how everything clears up and straightens out!"
remarked Jordan.
"Yes, the open graves are gaping again," said Herr Carovius cynically.
"So far as I am concerned," continued Jordan, without noticing the
aversion his affability had aroused in Herr Carovius, "I can now face
death with perfect peace of mind. My mission is ended; my work is done."
"That sounds as if you had discovered the philosopher's stone," remarked
Herr Carovius sarcastically.
"Perhaps," replied Jordan gently and bent over the table. "You are after
all not entirely wrong, my honoured friend. Do you wish to be convinced?
Will you honour me with a visit?"
Herr Carovius had become curious. They paid their bills and left for
AEgydius Place.
Having entered Jordan's room, the old man lighted a lamp and bolted the
door. He then opened the door of the great cabinet by the wall, and took
out a big doll. It was dressed like a Swiss maid, had on a flowered
skirt, a linen waist, and a little pink apron. Its yellow hair was done
up in braids, and on its head was a little felt hat.
"All that is my handiwork," said Jordan, with much show of pride. "I
myself took all the measurements and made the clothes, including even
the shoes. And now watch, my dear friend."
He placed the doll in the middle of the room. "She will speak," he
continued, his face radiant with joy, "she will sing. She will sing a
song native to her beloved Tyrol. Will you be so good as to take this
chair? I would rather not have you so close to it, if I may, for there
are certain noises which I still have to correct. The illusion is
stronger when you are some distance away."
He crouched down behind the doll, did something at its back, and the
buzzing of wheels became audible. The old man then stepped out to the
front of the doll, and said: "Now, my little girl, let's hear what you
can do!"
An uncanny, hoarse, somewhat cooing voice rang out from the body of the
doll. It sounded like the vibrations of metallic strings accompanied by
the low tones of a water whistle. If you closed your eyes, you could at
least imagine you were hearing a song sung by some one in the distance.
But if you looked at the thing closely with its lifeless, mask-like
kindly, waxen face, and heard the shrill, muffled sounds, without either
articulation or rhythm, coming from within, it took on a ghostly aspect.
Herr Carovius in fact felt a cold chill creep down his back.
When the machine ran down, the doll's eyelids and lips closed. Jordan
was looking at Herr Carovius in great suspense. "Well, what do you think
of it?" he asked. "Be quite frank; I can stand any amount of criticism."
Herr Carovius had great difficulty to keep from bursting out laughing.
His mouth and chin itched. Suddenly, however, scorn and contempt left
him; he fell into a disagreeably serious frame of mind, and a softness,
a mildness such as he had not felt since time immemorial stole over his
heart. He said: "That is a perfectly splendid invention! Perfectly
splendid! Though it does need some improvement."
Jordan nodded zealously and with joyous approval. He was on the point of
going into a detailed description of the mechanism and its artistic
construction, when the two men heard a strange noise in the adjoining
room. They stopped and listened. They could hear some one moving the
furniture; there were steps back and forth; they heard a hammering and
pounding as if some one were trying to open a box. This was followed by
a sound that resembled the falling of paper on the floor; it lasted for
some time, bunch apparently following bunch. Listen! Some one is talking
in an abusive voice! What's that? A gruesome, sing-song voice repeating
unintelligible words: "I-oi! huh, huh! I-oi, huh-huh!" There is a sound
as if of crackling fire. The flames cannot be seen; but they can be
heard!
Old Jordan jerked the door open, and cried like a child.
Philippina was standing in the midst of a pile of burning papers. She
had forced Daniel's trunk open, thrown every one of his scores on the
floor, and set them on fire. She was a fearful object to behold. Her
hair hung down loose and straggly over her shoulders, she was swinging
her arms as if she were working a pump-handle, and from her mouth poured
forth a volley of loud, babbling, gurgling tones that bore not the
faintest resemblance to anything human. Her face, lightened by the
flames, was coloured with the trace of fearful voluptuousness. Herr
Carovius and old Jordan stood in the doorway as if paralysed. Seeing
them, she began to hop about, and stretched out her upraised arms to the
flames, which were leaping higher and higher.
Herr Carovius, awakening from his torpidity, saw that it was high time
to make some effort to escape. Shielding his face with his hands, he
fled as fast as his feet could carry him to the hall door and down the
steps. Tears were gushing down Jordan's cheeks; fear had made it
impossible for him to reflect. He ran back into his room, opened the
window, and called out to the people on the square. Then he chanced to
think of his beloved doll. He rushed up to it and took it under his arm.
But when he tried to leave the room, the smoke blew into his face,
benumbing and burning him. He staggered, reached the top of the stairs,
made a misstep, fell headlong down the steps, still holding the doll in
convulsive embrace, twitched a few times, and then lay lifeless on the
hall floor.
Heart failure had put an end to his life.
Dorothea, who had been in the house packing her things, hastened,
luggage in hand, past the corpse. Her face was ashen; she never looked
at the dead body of Inspector Jordan. She was soon lost in the crowd of
excited people. She had vanished.