“Dr. Archer, having by some means become possessed of the secret of the
Imperial Succession, attempted to deprive me of my right, alleging that
because of a fall from my horse four years ago, I had become mentally
deficient. He presumed to place me under restraint in his own house in
hopes of either driving me insane or poisoning me. I have not forgotten
it. I visited him last night and the interview was final.”
Louis turned quite pale, but did not move. I resumed triumphantly,
“There are yet three people to be interviewed in the interests of
Mr. Wilde and myself. They are my cousin Louis, Mr. Hawberk, and his
daughter Constance.”
Louis sprang to his feet and I arose also, and flung the paper marked
with the Yellow Sign to the ground.
“Oh, I don’t need that to tell you what I have to say,” I cried, with a
laugh of triumph. “You must renounce the crown to me, do you hear, to
_me_.”
Louis looked at me with a startled air, but recovering himself said
kindly, “Of course I renounce the—what is it I must renounce?”
“The crown,” I said angrily.
“Of course,” he answered, “I renounce it. Come, old chap, I’ll walk
back to your rooms with you.”
“Don’t try any of your doctor’s tricks on me,” I cried, trembling with
fury. “Don’t act as if you think I am insane.”
“What nonsense,” he replied. “Come, it’s getting late, Hildred.”
“No,” I shouted, “you must listen. You cannot marry, I forbid it. Do
you hear? I forbid it. You shall renounce the crown, and in reward I
grant you exile, but if you refuse you shall die.”
He tried to calm me, but I was roused at last, and drawing my long
knife barred his way.
Then I told him how they would find Dr. Archer in the cellar with his
throat open, and I laughed in his face when I thought of Vance and his
knife, and the order signed by me.
“Ah, you are the King,” I cried, “but I shall be King. Who are you to
keep me from Empire over all the habitable earth! I was born the cousin
of a king, but I shall be King!”
Louis stood white and rigid before me. Suddenly a man came running up
Fourth Street, entered the gate of the Lethal Temple, traversed the
path to the bronze doors at full speed, and plunged into the death
chamber with the cry of one demented, and I laughed until I wept tears,
for I had recognized Vance, and knew that Hawberk and his daughter were
no longer in my way.
“Go,” I cried to Louis, “you have ceased to be a menace. You will never
marry Constance now, and if you marry any one else in your exile, I
will visit you as I did my doctor last night. Mr. Wilde takes charge of
you to-morrow.” Then I turned and darted into South Fifth Avenue, and
with a cry of terror Louis dropped his belt and sabre and followed me
like the wind. I heard him close behind me at the corner of Bleecker
Street, and I dashed into the doorway under Hawberk’s sign. He cried,
“Halt, or I fire!” but when he saw that I flew up the stairs leaving
Hawberk’s shop below, he left me, and I heard him hammering and
shouting at their door as though it were possible to arouse the dead.
Mr. Wilde’s door was open, and I entered crying, “It is done, it is
done! Let the nations rise and look upon their King!” but I could not
find Mr. Wilde, so I went to the cabinet and took the splendid diadem
from its case. Then I drew on the white silk robe, embroidered with the
Yellow Sign, and placed the crown upon my head. At last I was King,
King by my right in Hastur, King because I knew the mystery of the
Hyades, and my mind had sounded the depths of the Lake of Hali. I was
King! The first grey pencillings of dawn would raise a tempest which
would shake two hemispheres. Then as I stood, my every nerve pitched to
the highest tension, faint with the joy and splendour of my thought,
without, in the dark passage, a man groaned.
I seized the tallow dip and sprang to the door. The cat passed me like
a demon, and the tallow dip went out, but my long knife flew swifter
than she, and I heard her screech, and I knew that my knife had found
her. For a moment I listened to her tumbling and thumping about in the
darkness, and then when her frenzy ceased, I lighted a lamp and raised
it over my head. Mr. Wilde lay on the floor with his throat torn open.
At first I thought he was dead, but as I looked, a green sparkle came
into his sunken eyes, his mutilated hand trembled, and then a spasm
stretched his mouth from ear to ear. For a moment my terror and despair
gave place to hope, but as I bent over him his eyeballs rolled clean
around in his head, and he died. Then while I stood, transfixed with
rage and despair, seeing my crown, my empire, every hope and every
ambition, my very life, lying prostrate there with the dead master,
_they_ came, seized me from behind, and bound me until my veins stood
out like cords, and my voice failed with the paroxysms of my frenzied
screams. But I still raged, bleeding and infuriated among them, and
more than one policeman felt my sharp teeth. Then when I could no
longer move they came nearer; I saw old Hawberk, and behind him my
cousin Louis’ ghastly face, and farther away, in the corner, a woman,
Constance, weeping softly.
“Ah! I see it now!” I shrieked. “You have seized the throne and the
empire. Woe! woe to you who are crowned with the crown of the King in
Yellow!”
[EDITOR’S NOTE.—Mr. Castaigne died yesterday in the Asylum for
Criminal Insane.]