In Jeopardy
around, little by little, so as to finally bring my person into the
sphere of its influence; now a piercing purple beam struck me directly
in the face and I blinked; an instant later and the dazzle had passed
beyond; again I saw clearly.
Thaneford had risen, his teeth clenched upon his lower lip, a half cry
choking in his throat. Together our eyes fastened on the dial of his
watch, where the hands now pointed to eight minutes after twelve
o'clock. With one convulsive movement he snatched up the time-piece,
and dashed it in golden ruin to the floor; then he sprang toward me, and
I knew in another moment those strong hands, with their black-tufted
knuckles, would be gripping at my throat.
But that moment never came. On he leaped, lunging straight through the
colored stream of sunlight. And then a purple flash seemed to strike
fair on his black-shocked head; he reeled and fell. Down at my feet he
rolled, his limbs twitching in the death throe; simultaneously came a
tremendous crash of thunder, echoing and re-echoing from the straining
and cracking walls, while the blazing band of gold and purple and
scarlet went out like the flame of a wind-blown candle. I looked up to
see Betty's pale face framed in the archway of the secret passage behind
the chimney-breast; back of her stood Chalmers Warriner.
Betty had an automatic pistol in her hand, and she kept it trained on
the motionless, sprawling figure at my feet. She must have realized that
the precaution was unnecessary, but it was all part of the preconceived
plan, and she could not have borne to have stood idly by.
Warriner now entered the room, but he did not come directly toward me;
on the contrary, he kept close to the wall until he had arrived at a
point diagonally behind my chair; then he made his dash, and I could
feel my bonds falling apart under the keen edge of the hunting knife
that he carried. "Can you walk?" he asked. "Wait and I'll help you."
He dragged me to my feet, and I stumbled back to the wall, holding onto
his arm; now the room was in almost complete darkness save for the
recurrent flashes of steel-blue radiance from the incessant electrical
discharges; the rolling thunder drowned out any further exchange of
speech.
Together we crept toward the secret entrance, still hugging the line and
angles of the wall. Betty's arms drew me into the sheltering warmth of
her breast; now the floor rocked beneath our feet as the lightning bolt
sheared through the doomed roof, and the great painted window of the
Israelitish spies, bending inward under the pressure of the on-rushing
wind, crashed into multitudinous, iridescent ruin, obliterating in its
fall the white, twisted face of the man who had been John Thaneford.
* * * * *
At last we were in the open, shaken and trembling, drenched to the skin
by the descending floods, but safe; we pulled up short and looked back.
The library wing was in flames which seemed to blaze the more fiercely
under the lash of the down-slanting rain. But it might still be possible
to save the main house, and I ran to the fire alarm, the familiar rustic
apparatus of a great, iron ring suspended from a stout framework; and
made it give furious tongue, swinging the heavy hammer until my arms
seemed ready to pull away from their sockets. But help was at hand, Zack
and Zeb at the head of a body of field hands; and with them the
old-fashioned hand-pumping fire engine which had been preparing itself
for just such an emergency through a full century of watchful waiting.
Our domestic fire brigade had been well drilled, and the immediate
danger was soon past; finally we succeeded in getting the blaze in the
library wing under control. The interior had been entirely gutted, and
the roof had fallen in. But the walls remained standing, and,
apparently, they had suffered but little damage.
The storm was over and once again the sun was shining. Innumerable
brilliants flashed on the smooth emerald of the lawns, the leaves of the
lindens were rustling softly, and a Baltimore oriole, gorgeous in his
orange and black livery, returned scornful challenge to a blue jay's
chattering abuse. I might have deemed it but the awakening from a horrid
nightmare, were it not for the incredible fact that Betty's hand lay
close in mine and Chalmers Warriner was asking me for a cigarette.
Whereupon I distinguished myself by crumpling down at Betty's feet;
somebody drew the cap of darkness over my eyes.
Chapter XX
_The Blind Terror_
For three days I wandered in a phantasmagoric wilderness, my principal
obsession making me identify myself with that pair of Hebrew spies
staggering under the weight of those enormous grapes; would we never
lose sight of Rahab's scarlet cord, and be again in safety and quiet!
Then the confusion in my head cleared away, and I saw that it was really
Betty who sat by my bed and not "Black Jack" Thaneford.
* * * * *
Yes, John Thaneford lies quiet and still in S. Saviour's
churchyard--with his forefathers and mine--and enmity should end at the
edge of the grave. God knows that each one of us needs forgiveness, both
human and divine, for the deeds done in the flesh.
* * * * *
This morning I am allowed to sit up. Betty is busy at her household
accounts, and Little Hugh is playing on the floor with blocks and tin
soldiers. What a tremendous big chap he is! Perhaps a trifle shy of me
at present, but time will soon put that to rights.
* * * * *
A beautiful day, and I am feeling almost if not quite myself. To-morrow
I am to get up, and Chalmers Warriner is coming to dinner.
* * * * *
It is a long and well nigh incredible story to which I have been
listening this evening. But it explains everything and clears up
everything, and the shadow that has hung over "Hildebrand Hundred" for
so long has finally fled away; never, thank God! to return.
* * * * *
_Imprimis_, let me register full and frank confession of my unutterable
folly in ever doubting Betty; or, for that matter, my dear friend
Chalmers Warriner. And the explanation was so absurdly simple--the
secret engagement between Warriner and Hilda Powers. Of course, Betty
had been Hilda's confidante and could not betray her even to
re-establish a foolish husband's peace of mind. The ridiculous side of
the affair lay in the fact that there had been no particular reason for
keeping the engagement under cover, outside of Hilda's whim to have the
announcement delayed until after the marriage of her elder sister Eva.
Anyhow it _had_ been a secret and Betty had kept it loyally, even to her
own hurt. Moreover, she may have detected other traces of the green-eyed
monster in my make-up, and had decided that I needed a salutary lesson.
Let it go at that.
Of course, the mere statement of fact was enough to untangle the whole
coil; explained at once was the confidential understanding which
certainly had existed between my wife and my friend; also Warriner's
appearance at Stockbridge (where Hilda was already Betty's guest), and
all the other straws that seemed to show which way the wind blew, and
yet were nothing but straws, hopelessly light-minded and wholly
irresponsible. I made my amends humbly enough, and they were generously
accepted; we will say no more about it.
Dinner was over, and we were taking our coffee on the front portico. It
was a perfect June night, the heavens a sable pall studded with
innumerable star-clusters, the little vagrant breezes redolent of new
mown hay, a nightingale singing in a nearby boscage. An atmosphere of
heavenly peace and quiet that I must needs disturb with the blunt
question:
"And now what was it that killed John Thaneford?"
Chalmers Warriner threw away the butt of his cigar. "What was it that
killed all the Hildebrands throughout two generations?" he retorted.
"Yardley and Randall and Horace and Richard, and Francis Graeme? The
answer to the one question is the answer to them all. And, finally,
there was Eunice Trevor, who went voluntarily to meet the invisible
angel of death--a brave woman if there ever was one! Of course you
remember the unfinished letter which she left behind her. There was a
particular paragraph in it that impressed me, and I copied it down in my
note-book." He pulled out the little volume and began to read:
... moreover, I believe that the heart of the Terror beats in this
very place--the library of "Hildebrand Hundred." Something is in
this room, something eternally menacing and eternally patient. It
may be in one year or it may be in three and fifty years, but in
the end it will surely claim its own. Yes, something is here, the
something for which I myself am waiting; but, search as you will,
you shall not find the Terror; you must await its coming. At least
you may be certain that it will not fail to keep tryst.
"It must be evident," continued Chalmers, "that Eunice Trevor was aware
of the very real danger attendant upon the occupation of the room we
call the library at 'Hildebrand Hundred.' But she did not know what was
the nature of that danger; in the same breath she speaks of the peril as
being eternally menacing and eternally patient--a contradiction in
terms. How could the Terror be always ready to strike, and yet, in one
case at least, wait half a century for the opportunity? This discrepancy
bothered me from the very first; but let me explain myself more exactly;
I made some other notes at the time."
Warriner ruffled the leaves of his note-book, and began again:
"Eunice Trevor gives a list of the owners of the 'Hundred,' together
with the dates of their succession and death, running back to 1860, when
Yardley Hildebrand succeeded his father, Oliver; Yardley himself dying a
year later under mysterious circumstances. At least I assume that they
were mysterious, for Effingham has assured me that he died alone and
while engaged in looking over some papers in the then newly completed
library. The list continues with Randall and Horace and Richard
Hildebrand, and ends with Francis Graeme. Now for Miss Trevor's
comments:
"As we analyze these dates and periods we come upon some curious
coincidences, and also upon some marked discrepancies. Yardley
Hildebrand reigned for one brief year, and the same is true of
Randall Hildebrand and of Francis Graeme. But Horace Hildebrand
enjoyed three full years of sovereignty, while Richard was
Hildebrand of the "Hundred" for no less a period than fifty-three
years. Yet all five went to their death along an unfrequented road,
and no man can say of a certainty what was the essential damnation
of their taking-off. They died, and they died alone--here in this
very room where I sit waiting, waiting."
Warriner lit a fresh cigar.
"Making due allowance for feminine hyperbole," he said judicially, "and
for the writer's excited state of mind, we arrive at certain definite
facts. Here are six deaths--seven if we include that of John
Thaneford--and all of them happening under apparently natural but really
abnormal conditions. The constant factors in the series of equations are
the _locale_ and the general circumstances--an unattended death and no
visible cause for dissolution. The period is a variable quantity--from
one to over fifty years. We therefore may conclude justifiably that Miss
Trevor was wrong in her assertion about something deadly and menacing
being always in the room, ready to spring upon its prey. Under that
hypothesis the apartment would quickly have become impossible for human