The Mystery of Madeline Le Blanc/Chapter 6

by Max Ehrmann

VI.

No sooner had the night come to its full darkness than some one rapped lightly at the side door of the old stone house. For a long time there was silence, then the rapping continue. Presently, the door was opened by the same dwarfish creature.

"Why do you keep me waiting? Notwithstanding this is my house, our presence here must be kept a secret. You keep me waiting, and everything will become public—what I am doing—that this is my house—everything! Then I will have to explain what happened last night."

"Oh! it is Monsieur," shrieked the creature, in a loud whisper.

"Of course, who else? Did not I give the proper raps? or are you losing your hearing? or can it be that you are unfaithful to me, and expect some one else?"

"No, no, I did not expect to see Monsieur alive again."

"You are losing your reason, creature."

"Who was it that came out of the cellar last night and dropped here where you are now standing?" asked the dwarf.

"It was I."

"No, it was too pale and ugly a face; no, it was somebody else's visage whom I never saw before," said the creature, trembling in the dark.

"It was I! and it was fortunate for me that I came to myself in time to avoid the police, whom I saw come and inspect the house. You unfaithful dog, why did you leave me?" hissed Satiani into the face of the dwarf.

"No, no; call me not that; I am not unfaithful. The noise you made coming out of the cellar attracted a passer-by's attention; and I was too weak to carry you away, Monsieur. I hid when the police entered, and when I left, I ran to your office for safety, and waited until day. The face and body did not look like you at all."

"I have at last made the discovery," said Satiani, feeling his way to the door of the cellar.

"The smell nearly choked me when I went below. What was it?"

"A fume that will produce a catalepsy like death," answered the doctor, cautiously opening the door. "I tried it on myself last night. So strong was the fume that I felt myself going down into a deadly sleep before I could do more than ascend the stairs. My tongue cleaved stiffly to the roof of my mouth, I felt my jaws lock, and consciousness dwindled to nothing save a sense of terror that I had gone a step too far with myself, and a kind of joy that I had at last found that for which I had searched so long. You should have dragged me to the air; it was air that I was gasping for. You say my face was distorted?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Do not move from this door, and be ready to answer my call," said Satiani, descending into the cellar. "It remains now to be seen whether or not I can restore life from the effect of my discovery, or whether death must follow." The door closed cautiously behind him, and there was absolute silence.

The light shone again through the cracks in the floor; and soon the chemical fumes and muttering talk began. The dwarfish person lay down before the entrance to the cellar, and slept, as the hours of the first half of the night wore on.

The cellar into which Doctor Satiani had descended and now sat, was a perfect square of about thirteen feet, walled with unhewn stone, and pierced by three openings. On two opposite sides, extending about three feet from the floor, were shelves supporting bottles, jars and pots. Along the full length of another side stood a table confusedly laden with papers, small packages, and the candle that sent its rays through the floor of the upper room. Against the remaining wall stood a clean white couch, folded up. From the massive rafters of the ceiling hung dried vegetable growths, roots, herbs and barks; and in the center descended an ancient iron candle rack. About the middle of the floor lay two heavy rings fastened by iron bands welded into the stone. Of the three narrow arches in the walls, the one beside the bottles and pots led to the stairs which Satiani had descended; the other two, in the walls corresponding to the front and back of the house, led into narrow passages that ended in arched stone chambers exactly alike. An iron door closed a passage that led from each of these—but whither Satiani did not know. He had not had time to explore. Once he had opened one of these, and found that indeed it led somewhere; but it was too dark to see.

As it now approached the hour of eleven, he sat crouched before the table, babbling to himself and watching the steaming and bubbling in an iron pot that was perched on a tripod above the blue flame of a spirit lamp. Presently he arose, walked to the stairs, and made a hissing noise.

"Yes," answered the dwarf, who was on his feet in an instant.

"Go round the house and see if all is clear." Satiani returned to the table, extinguished the flame of the spirit lamp, and poured the contents of the iron pot into a broad vessel. He was nervous and looked frequently at his watch.

In a short time the dwarf returned, and said: "I have walked around the house. It is so dark that I could not see my hand before my face. I listened every few minutes, and found everything quiet."

"Very well," answered Satiani. " Now bring the shovel to the head of the stairs." He looked at his watch once more, walked to the other side of the cellar, placed the couch in the center of the floor, blew out the candle, and ascended the stairs.

"Monsieur," said the dwarf,."where are you? I have the shovel."

"Here at the outer door," answered Satiani; and taking the shovel, he added, abusively. "Obey me implicitly—do you understand?"

"Yes, Monsieur; do I not always try to ob——"

"Never mind about what you always try to do. Keep your wits now, and don't be a coward. I hate a coward. If you hear a shot, or a cry, somebody has intercepted me, and has fallen. If you hear nothing, I shall be here in thirty minutes with a body. Lie in the front of the court; and when I come, go ahead and open this door. We shall enter here. If anybody approaches the house, you will throw a stone toward the thick brown monument. You know the direction. In case anything happens to me, you know my voice, and will come at once, for you do not want to live longer than I—do you, midget? Come."

They passed the door and stood in the outer night, which was even of a thicker darkness than that within.

"Hold! what is this?" asked Satiani, brushing against something, after they had advanced a short distance.

"The first bramble between the front door and the hedge, I think," answered the dwarf.

"True, I had forgotten it. You will lie here. I shall descend into the valley, and enter the cemetery from the north. Remember to throw the stone, if you hear anything about the house, as I told you." So saying, he left the dwarf, and started northward down the valley, the shovel on his back. After descending for a distance he turned west, and walked at right angles with the inclined plane. It was the difficult part of his task to know exactly how far westward to go, in order not to lose the general notion of his whereabouts with respect to the situation of the grave. He counted his steps to the number that he had calculated would make about three hundred yards, and stopped to listen. Everything was as silent as the dead sleeping in their tombs. He turned and ascended directly toward the cemetery, which, if his calculations had been accurate, he would reach about the place of the newly-made grave. If a light could have been thrown into that face as it climbed the hill, there would have been seen a combination of expressions, including joy and expectation, tinctured with the nervous uncertainty of a criminal and the strength of something almost superhuman. "Once," he was thinking, as he climbed, "I could have loved such a girl. I will be good enough to her, but she shall be mine. I will enjoy what was denied my youth; and the murderers of Louis XVI. shall pay me in this generation. My science—if it fail not! Madeline! I will teach you to serve a soldier of a king," and then he called himself a fool. " Ten chances to one she is dead. Can I revive her? I fear there was too much carbon. My science—my science!"

He encountered an obstacle—the fence—and climbing over, his hand met, as high as his own head, a smooth cold face. It was only a marble figure, as dead and silent as the earth beneath his feet; but it reminded him that he was still capable of fear. He was now in the cemetery; and, according to his calculation, not far from the grave. But which way to turn he knew not. He laid the shovel against the fence, in order not to lose the knowledge of where he had entered, for by feeling along the fence he might return to it at any time. Absolutely nothing could be seen except some gray spots that lay scattered through the darkness. To move with any speed was impossible; for the mounds and monuments were so profusely and irregularly crowded that he might be at any instant precipitated to the ground. Crawling on his hands and knees, never more than two steps from the fence, he felt for fresh earth. The green and the withered grass and weeds were wet with dew; the slabs that lay on the ground felt cold; the monuments and headstones continually intercepted his progress; and an occasional human sentiment, that he was crawling amid the bones and decayed flesh of the dead, unconsciously caused him to halt, until he cursed himself for cowardice, and proceeded. There was that horrible stillness that made the sound of his own creeping and breathing roar in his ears like the crashing of billows on a stony beach. He thought a thousand eyes were fastened upon him and that he was being followed.

Earth—fresh earth! His hand sank into it, with the other he could reach the fence, along which he walked to the shovel, counting his steps; and in a few minutes he was back on the spot. After feeling the dimensions of the mound, he began to dig. Each shovelful of earth that fell to the ground roared like the discharge of a cannon between intervals of death-like silence in the still night. The dead awaked in their graves; and some came and stood by his side; yet he did not stop digging. A hand descended slowly upon him, and when it touched his shoulder, it broke and fell to the ground, he thought. The figure moved away, and the hand lay squirming like a snake amid his digging. "Ugh! my thoughts," he muttered, half aloud, picking up the hand, but in his grasp there was nothing save earth. All around, those long dead turned in their graves; the later ones arose, sat on their tombs, and moved about; but none spoke or smiled. Some came and watched the digging from sockets that had no eyes, their bones rattling with every step. A few only had withered hearts, the resthad none. A mourning sound now issued from their lips and tongueless mouths. Satiani stopped, looked about, and the dead shrank back. He descended into the grave, and continued to dig. Presently he struck the box, which he pulled partially out of the hole, and, breaking off a board, felt the folds of a shroud. "Oh, oh, oh!" echoed the dead, coming in swarms. He laid the motionless form on the ground, and filled up the grave. Covered with a cold perspiration, and trembling in physical exhaustion, he bore his burden down the valley, across to the stone house, where at the entrance to the court he was met by the dwarfish person.

"Monsieur."

"Yes."

"I thought you were never coming. You have been long," cried the creature.

"No, not thirty minutes."

"Yes, you have been hours."

"Impossible," replied Satiani. There was a tremor inhis voice. "What is that light yonder?" and he pointed toward the east.

"Monsieur, that is the dawn."

They hastened into the house and felt their way down into the cellar. Satiani laid the body on the couch and fell exhausted to the floor. The dwarf lighted a candle in the iron rack, and the glimmers fell upon two faces of deadly pallor.

"Monsieur!" cried the dwarf; but there was no reply.