Tales of terror
books in which the past and the future of men can be read for those who
have eyes to see.’
Many more questions were asked and answered, and Lady Hilda returned
to the castle deeply impressed by the strange man’s manner. Again and
again she visited him, and his influence over her became all-powerful.
Of course, these visits were secret ones, and she kept her own
counsel. The stranger took up his abode in the tower, where there was
no fear of his being disturbed, for people had a dread of the ruins, as
they said they were haunted. Lady Hilda procured him books and other
things that he said he wanted, and she kept him supplied with food and
money. During the time that this was taking place she was urging her
sister to quit the castle, retire to the capital, and there bring up
her son in the shadow of the court. But this the mother strenuously
refused to do, while the ill-feeling between her and her sister
increased. At last Lady Hilda disappeared, and with her her nephew.
She was ultimately traced to Cologne after some months’ absence, and
she and the boy were brought back. Within a week of her return she was
found dead in her bed. She had been poisoned.
The burial of a dead Di Venoni was invariably an imposing sight, and
there was no exception in Lady Hilda’s case. None of the mummery and
pomp and ceremony were omitted, and for three days the body lay in
state in the great entrance hall, and those who were entrusted with
watching the corpse at night averred that one night as the great bell
of the castle was tolling the solemn midnight hour a peculiar dark-eyed
man suddenly appeared. There was something so weird and strange in his
appearance that they were dumbfounded with horror, and their horror was
increased when they saw him lift the shrouded corpse from its coffin,
press it to his breast, fondle it and kiss it, and lavish upon it all
the manifestations of extreme love and affection. At last he replaced
the body and disappeared as mysteriously as he came. This wonderful
story soon spread from lip to lip, with additions and exaggerations,
and great was the consternation when, as the unhappy lady was being
borne to the burial vault of the Di Venoni in the neighbouring church,
the remarkable stranger was recognised amongst the crowd. He seemed
bowed in sorrow, but when an attempt was made to seize him he avoided
it, and, as everyone declared, made himself invisible.
Years passed away. Reginald Di Venoni grew into manhood. He had become
a self-willed, passionate, gloomy man, who avoided his mother--now an
old and decrepid woman--and made no secret of the fact that he disliked
her. For a long time he had abandoned himself to the pleasures of the
chase, and he tried to give some colour and tone to his gloomy and
monotonous life by riotous living.
One evening he had been out hunting, and having got separated from
his followers, he was returning alone when, on reaching the ruins of
Rudstein, his horse shied, and Reginald beheld a weird-looking old man
standing amidst the ruins. His hair was white, and he had a long, grey
beard.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Reginald boldly, for he was courageous and
daring to recklessness at times.
‘One who has watched you from childhood, and who would now speak into
your ear words of wisdom. Make your horse fast to that tree and follow
me.’
Curiosity, no less than some spell which he seemed incapable of
resisting, prompted him to do the bidding of the stranger, who led the
way up the mouldering stairs of the tower. On arriving at the top he
threw open a door and revealed an apartment, the floor of which was
strewn with books written in strange characters. In one corner stood
a large vase engraved with the signs of the Zodiac, and encircled by
mysterious letters. A huge telescope was placed in the centre of the
room, and pointed through a small aperture in the ceiling. As the old
man entered he took up an ebony wand from a table near and with it drew
circles in the air, then, turning to Reginald, said in a solemn and
warning voice:
‘Man of ill-starred fortune, you were born under an unlucky planet, and
your future is involved in darkness. But for the sake of her whom I
loved, your aunt, the Lady Hilda, I would save you from your doom.’
Reginald laughed somewhat scornfully. Although he was not without
superstition he placed little faith in the wild stories which he had
heard from his childhood, and he was in the habit of saying that there
was little that was called supernatural that could not be explained by
natural laws.
‘Ah, now I remember you,’ he exclaimed. ‘Years ago, when I was a child,
you came to my mother’s castle. You frightened me then, and strangely
impressed me.’
‘And yet why should that have been?’ asked the stranger. ‘I was a
simple student of the occult, and was travelling the world in quest of
knowledge. I had heard something of your family. I knew the curse that
rested upon your house, and even then I would have tried to avert it;
but your mother would have set her dogs upon me as she set her menials.
To your aunt I owed my life, and my love for her grew. By my advice she
took you away to the capital, but that act cost her her life. For her
sake I would now save you. Since her death I have made long journeys
into different countries, but have always been drawn back here by some
influence I could not resist. My days, nay, my hours are numbered now;
but before I join the sweet Lady Hilda I would render you a service.’
Reginald was far from impressed, and laughed again, saying:
‘It is kind of you, but suppose I decline your good offices. Indeed,
I am capable of taking care of myself and my fortunes; and, frankly,
do not desire any service at the hands of a half-witted imposter, as I
believe you to be. For myself, I have no belief either in God or Devil,
therefore am not likely to be frightened by anything you can tell me or
anything you can do.’
The old man’s face assumed a look of sorrow and distress, and, speaking
in a voice that betrayed his emotion, he said:
‘Sad indeed it is that you should lack reverence. But have a care,
have a care! I warn you against infidelity, and against those sins
which, if indulged in, will bring you to ruin. Listen, I say, and take
heed. The star of your destiny already wanes in the heavens, and the
fortunes of the proud family of Venoni must decline with it. When the
stars shine to-night look to the west, and you will see your planet,
distinguishable by its unusual brilliancy. Look to it, I say, and let
your thoughts wander from it to the God who rules the universe, and to
Him put up a prayer of repentance and a cry for light and guidance. But
should you see a dull red meteor shoot across the face of your star of
nativity, it will be a sign that a deed of blood will be done, and you
will perpetrate it.’
For a moment or two Reginald was really impressed by the awe-inspiring
tone and manner of the old man. But once more he broke into a scornful
laugh, and said:
‘If this is all you have brought me here for, you do but waste my time,
and I will depart.’
‘Go!’ answered the old man. ‘You pronounce your doom. But let me exact
a promise from you. On the night of the third day from now return
to this apartment, and, if you find me dead, give my body Christian
burial.’
‘Yes; you shall have burial, as one of my dogs should,’ Reginald
replied. ‘But since you are an unwelcome tenant in this ruined tower,
which is part of my property, I shall give instructions to have you
driven away. However, as you confess to having liked my aunt, whom I
loved better than I loved my mother, I will see that you do not want.
You shall be furnished with means sufficiently ample to enable you to
live where your inclinations prompt, only you must quit the tower.’
‘This is my living place, as it is to be my death place,’ exclaimed the
old man. ‘And again I charge you, return here in three days, or fail at
your peril.’
Reginald was exasperated. His temper was aroused now, as he thought the
old man was defying him, and he strode hastily from the room, hurried
down the stairs, and, flinging himself on his horse, galloped to the
castle, with the intention of giving orders to eject the strange old
man from the tower at once. But by the time he reached the courtyard he
had changed his mind, and he could not help confessing to himself that
some indefinable sense of fear restrained him. At any rate, he would
let the old fellow remain where he was for a few days longer.
Three days passed away, and the night came. Then Reginald remembered
the man’s request; at first he had no intention of returning to the
ruins. As the evening wore on, however, he felt impelled by a feeling
of overmastering curiosity to pay another visit to the wizard, if
wizard he was. So, without making known his intention to anyone, he
armed himself with a formidable spear used in boar hunting, and,
calling his faithful boarhound ‘Wanga’ to his side, he set off for the
tower.
The night was beautifully fine. The air was still, the sky was
cloudless, the stars shone with extraordinary brilliancy. As Reginald
pursued his way he looked to the west, and saw an unusually bright
star, and knew, according to what the old man had told him, that it
was the star of his nativity. He reached the ruins in about half an
hour’s rapid walking. A weird silence seemed to pervade the place. No
light was visible. There wasn’t a sign of the old man’s existence.
Reginald told ‘Wanga’ to precede him up the mouldering stairs, but the
great hound whined and drew back and crouched at his master’s feet, and
remained unmoved even by the vigorous kick which his master gave him.
So, with a muttered oath, Reginald mounted the stairs alone. He pushed
open the door and peered in. The window of the chamber was screened by
a curtain, on a shelf burned a small lamp, at the table sat the old
man. He was dressed in a suit of black velvet embroidered with gold,
while round his waist was a massive belt of silver. He wore a skull-cap
on his head, in his thin white hand he grasped the ebony rod, while the
index finger of the right hand was fixed on a passage in an open book
that lay on the table before him.
Reginald spoke to him. There was no answer, no movement. For the first
time he felt a sense of fear. He spoke again, but still no answer came.
He advanced a few steps into the room.
‘Do you not see I am here?’ he exclaimed.
The old man rose up, not as a living being, but like a mechanical
figure. The face was the face of a corpse. The eyes were dull and
glazed, but for an instant they lighted up as they turned upon the
speaker, though the light faded immediately, and without a sound the
old man sank to the floor, dead.
The situation was so weird, so ghastly, so dramatic, that Reginald’s
fears were now fully aroused, and with a suppressed moan of horror he
turned and fled. The dog was still crouching at the foot of the stairs,
but rose with a cry of joy as his master appeared. As Reginald left
the ruins he glanced at the west. His star of nativity was burning
brilliantly, but suddenly a dull red meteor shot across it, and
remembering then the old man’s prophecy, he was so overcome that he
dropped senseless to the ground in a faint. In a few minutes, finding
that something was wrong, the faithful hound rushed back to the castle,
and by his howling and barking attracted attention. When the servants
hurried to the great gateway he indicated that something was wrong;
so torches were procured and the dog was followed to where his master
still lay insensible on the ground. He was raised up and carried back,
but when he came to his senses he was in a raging fever. He frequently
became delirious, and in the hour of his lunacy was accustomed to talk