Tales of Terror and Mystery
is capable of communicating to a sensitive mind. By a sensitive mind I
do not mean an abnormal one, but such a trained and educated mind as
you or I possess."
"You mean, for example, that if I slept beside that old sword upon the
wall, I might dream of some bloody incident in which that very sword
took part?"
"An excellent example, for, as a matter of fact, that sword was used in
that fashion by me, and I saw in my sleep the death of its owner, who
perished in a brisk skirmish, which I have been unable to identify, but
which occurred at the time of the wars of the Frondists. If you think
of it, some of our popular observances show that the fact has already
been recognized by our ancestors, although we, in our wisdom, have
classed it among superstitions."
"For example?"
"Well, the placing of the bride's cake beneath the pillow in order that
the sleeper may have pleasant dreams. That is one of several instances
which you will find set forth in a small brochure which I am myself
writing upon the subject. But to come back to the point, I slept one
night with this funnel beside me, and I had a dream which certainly
throws a curious light upon its use and origin."
"What did you dream?"
"I dreamed----" He paused, and an intent look of interest came over his
massive face. "By Jove, that's well thought of," said he. "This really
will be an exceedingly interesting experiment. You are yourself a
psychic subject--with nerves which respond readily to any impression."
"I have never tested myself in that direction."
"Then we shall test you tonight. Might I ask you as a very great
favour, when you occupy that couch tonight, to sleep with this old
funnel placed by the side of your pillow?"
The request seemed to me a grotesque one; but I have myself, in my
complex nature, a hunger after all which is bizarre and fantastic. I
had not the faintest belief in Dacre's theory, nor any hopes for
success in such an experiment; yet it amused me that the experiment
should be made. Dacre, with great gravity, drew a small stand to the
head of my settee, and placed the funnel upon it. Then, after a short
conversation, he wished me good night and left me.
I sat for some little time smoking by the smouldering fire, and turning
over in my mind the curious incident which had occurred, and the
strange experience which might lie before me. Sceptical as I was, there
was something impressive in the assurance of Dacre's manner, and my
extraordinary surroundings, the huge room with the strange and often
sinister objects which were hung round it, struck solemnity into my
soul. Finally I undressed, and turning out the lamp, I lay down.
After long tossing I fell asleep. Let me try to describe as accurately
as I can the scene which came to me in my dreams. It stands out now in
my memory more clearly than anything which I have seen with my waking
eyes. There was a room which bore the appearance of a vault. Four
spandrels from the corners ran up to join a sharp, cup-shaped roof.
The architecture was rough, but very strong. It was evidently part of
a great building.
Three men in black, with curious, top-heavy, black velvet hats, sat in
a line upon a red-carpeted dais. Their faces were very solemn and sad.
On the left stood two long-gowned men with port-folios in their hands,
which seemed to be stuffed with papers. Upon the right, looking toward
me, was a small woman with blonde hair and singular, light-blue
eyes--the eyes of a child. She was past her first youth, but could not
yet be called middle-aged. Her figure was inclined to stoutness and her
bearing was proud and confident. Her face was pale, but serene. It
was a curious face, comely and yet feline, with a subtle suggestion of
cruelty about the straight, strong little mouth and chubby jaw. She was
draped in some sort of loose, white gown. Beside her stood a thin,
eager priest, who whispered in her ear, and continually raised a
crucifix before her eyes. She turned her head and looked fixedly past
the crucifix at the three men in black, who were, I felt, her judges.
As I gazed the three men stood up and said something, but I could
distinguish no words, though I was aware that it was the central one
who was speaking. They then swept out of the room, followed by the two
men with the papers. At the same instant several rough-looking fellows
in stout jerkins came bustling in and removed first the red carpet, and
then the boards which formed the dais, so as to entirely clear the
room. When this screen was removed I saw some singular articles of
furniture behind it. One looked like a bed with wooden rollers at each
end, and a winch handle to regulate its length. Another was a wooden
horse. There were several other curious objects, and a number of
swinging cords which played over pulleys. It was not unlike a modern
gymnasium.
When the room had been cleared there appeared a new figure upon the
scene. This was a tall, thin person clad in black, with a gaunt and
austere face. The aspect of the man made me shudder. His clothes were
all shining with grease and mottled with stains. He bore himself with a
slow and impressive dignity, as if he took command of all things from
the instant of his entrance. In spite of his rude appearance and
sordid dress, it was now his business, his room, his to command. He
carried a coil of light ropes over his left forearm. The lady looked
him up and down with a searching glance, but her expression was
unchanged. It was confident--even defiant. But it was very different
with the priest. His face was ghastly white, and I saw the moisture
glisten and run on his high, sloping forehead. He threw up his hands
in prayer and he stooped continually to mutter frantic words in the
lady's ear.
The man in black now advanced, and taking one of the cords from his
left arm, he bound the woman's hands together. She held them meekly
toward him as he did so. Then he took her arm with a rough grip and
led her toward the wooden horse, which was little higher than her
waist. On to this she was lifted and laid, with her back upon it, and
her face to the ceiling, while the priest, quivering with horror, had
rushed out of the room. The woman's lips were moving rapidly, and
though I could hear nothing I knew that she was praying. Her feet hung
down on either side of the horse, and I saw that the rough varlets in
attendance had fastened cords to her ankles and secured the other ends
to iron rings in the stone floor.
My heart sank within me as I saw these ominous preparations, and yet I
was held by the fascination of horror, and I could not take my eyes
from the strange spectacle. A man had entered the room with a bucket
of water in either hand. Another followed with a third bucket. They
were laid beside the wooden horse. The second man had a wooden
dipper--a bowl with a straight handle--in his other hand. This he gave
to the man in black. At the same moment one of the varlets approached
with a dark object in his hand, which even in my dream filled me with a
vague feeling of familiarity. It was a leathern filler. With horrible
energy he thrust it--but I could stand no more. My hair stood on end
with horror. I writhed, I struggled, I broke through the bonds of
sleep, and I burst with a shriek into my own life, and found myself
lying shivering with terror in the huge library, with the moonlight
flooding through the window and throwing strange silver and black
traceries upon the opposite wall. Oh, what a blessed relief to feel
that I was back in the nineteenth century--back out of that mediaeval
vault into a world where men had human hearts within their bosoms. I
sat up on my couch, trembling in every limb, my mind divided between
thankfulness and horror. To think that such things were ever
done--that they could be done without God striking the villains dead.
Was it all a fantasy, or did it really stand for something which had
happened in the black, cruel days of the world's history? I sank my
throbbing head upon my shaking hands. And then, suddenly, my heart
seemed to stand still in my bosom, and I could not even scream, so
great was my terror. Something was advancing toward me through the
darkness of the room.
It is a horror coming upon a horror which breaks a man's spirit. I
could not reason, I could not pray; I could only sit like a frozen
image, and glare at the dark figure which was coming down the great
room. And then it moved out into the white lane of moonlight, and I
breathed once more. It was Dacre, and his face showed that he was as
frightened as myself.
"Was that you? For God's sake what's the matter?" he asked in a husky
voice.
"Oh, Dacre, I am glad to see you! I have been down into hell. It was
dreadful."
"Then it was you who screamed?"
"I dare say it was."
"It rang through the house. The servants are all terrified." He struck
a match and lit the lamp. "I think we may get the fire to burn up
again," he added, throwing some logs upon the embers. "Good God, my
dear chap, how white you are! You look as if you had seen a ghost."
"So I have--several ghosts."
"The leather funnel has acted, then?"
"I wouldn't sleep near the infernal thing again for all the money you
could offer me."
Dacre chuckled.
"I expected that you would have a lively night of it," said he. "You
took it out of me in return, for that scream of yours wasn't a very
pleasant sound at two in the morning. I suppose from what you say that
you have seen the whole dreadful business."
"What dreadful business?"
"The torture of the water--the 'Extraordinary Question,' as it was
called in the genial days of 'Le Roi Soleil.' Did you stand it out to
the end?"
"No, thank God, I awoke before it really began."
"Ah! it is just as well for you. I held out till the third bucket.
Well, it is an old story, and they are all in their graves now, anyhow,
so what does it matter how they got there? I suppose that you have no
idea what it was that you have seen?"
"The torture of some criminal. She must have been a terrible
malefactor indeed if her crimes are in proportion to her penalty."
"Well, we have that small consolation," said Dacre, wrapping his
dressing-gown round him and crouching closer to the fire. "They WERE in
proportion to her penalty. That is to say, if I am correct in the
lady's identity."
"How could you possibly know her identity?"
For answer Dacre took down an old vellum-covered volume from the shelf.
"Just listen to this," said he; "it is in the French of the seventeenth
century, but I will give a rough translation as I go. You will judge
for yourself whether I have solved the riddle or not.
"'The prisoner was brought before the Grand Chambers and Tournelles of
Parliament, sitting as a court of justice, charged with the murder of
Master Dreux d'Aubray, her father, and of her two brothers, MM.
d'Aubray, one being civil lieutenant, and the other a counsellor of
Parliament. In person it seemed hard to believe that she had really
done such wicked deeds, for she was of a mild appearance, and of short
stature, with a fair skin and blue eyes. Yet the Court, having found
her guilty, condemned her to the ordinary and to the extraordinary
question in order that she might be forced to name her accomplices,
after which she should be carried in a cart to the Place de Greve,
there to have her head cut off, her body being afterwards burned and
her ashes scattered to the winds.'
"The date of this entry is July 16, 1676."
"It is interesting," said I, "but not convincing. How do you prove the
two women to be the same?"
"I am coming to that. The narrative goes on to tell of the woman's
behaviour when questioned. 'When the executioner approached her she