Tales of terror
when he has not been wronged is but an idle preacher. Let someone rob
you of your most precious inheritance, and see then if you can sit
calmly and exclaim ‘Kismet!’
Now listen to the story as it was gradually revealed to me when, after
lying stunned and dazed for nearly three weeks, I began to realise
once more that I was in the world of the living. Listen to it, I say,
and you will not be surprised that I thirsted for vengeance. Up above
the valley of Paraúna was a wild, barren, sun-scorched plateau which,
after some three leagues or so, dipped abruptly into a gorge of great
extent filled with virgin forest. Just where the plateau joined this
belt of vegetation, the searchers found the bodies of Juliette and
Jocelino. They were lying on their backs, and between them was a huge
dead coral snake, one of the most deadly reptiles found in the Brazils.
As it is not unusual for those who are bitten by this hideous creature
to die almost immediately, so virulent and powerful is the venom it
injects into the blood of its victims, that it was not an unnatural
thought that both Juliette and the old servant had been bitten by the
reptile. But two things served to almost instantly dispel this belief.
The head of the snake was crushed, and on the bosom of sweet Juliette’s
dress, as well as on the shirt of the man, was a great patch of blood.
And when the bodies were brought down and examined by a doctor it was
discovered that both had died by being stabbed to the heart with a long
thin knife, and there was no sign or symptom of snake-bite.
The dead coral snake lying between them, therefore, only added to
the mystery. The horses they had ridden returned after many days by
themselves. They had evidently wandered far and suffered much, but
they were dumb and could tell nothing of the awful tale. They still
carried their saddles and trappings. Nothing had been stolen. The
mystery deepened, but about the mode of death there was no mystery. It
was murder. Murder, cruel, revolting, damnable. Where the bodies were
found a diligent search was made for the weapon with which the crime
was committed, but it was not discovered. Jocelino, like all Brazilians
who live in the country, carried a hunting knife, but it was long and
broad, and it was resting unstained in its sheath attached to his belt.
Again I say it was murder--cruel, fiendish, deliberate murder. A crime
so foul that it must have made the angels weep, and yet no angel in
heaven stretched forth his hand to save my beloved from her awful end.
Bowed and broken though he was, Senhor Souza thirsted for vengeance
on the slayer of his child, whom he loved with a tenderness passing
words, and he offered a lavish reward to anyone who would track the
murderer down. To any individual of the people of that region the
reward would have been a fortune, and Brazilian and Indian alike were
stimulated to almost superhuman exertion. But the mystery defied their
solving. The bodies lying side by side and the dead snake between them
were elements in the puzzle to which no brain in that community seemed
capable of finding an answer. As days went by and there was no result
the reward was increased. The authorities themselves, usually lethargic
and indifferent in Brazil, bestirred themselves in an unusual manner;
but nothing came of it all. And as I began to drift back slowly to the
living world, the old Senhor took to his bed, for his heart was broken.
And it was decreed that he should rise no more as a man amongst men,
for after lingering helpless and imbecile for many months, they carried
him forth one golden day amidst the lamentations of his people, and
laid him to rest beside his daughter.
And now what of myself? I have that still to tell which, for ghastly
horror, has scarcely any parallel.
When I was able to realise the full measure of my sorrow, I knew that
my beloved wife had been foully slain, and the motive for the crime
was hard to define. But it seemed to me as I examined into the matter
that probably she and the old servant had fallen victims to some
strange superstition, and that might account for the dead snake being
found between them. But whatever the motive that led to this diabolical
destruction of two human beings, it was exceedingly desirable that the
criminal should be discovered, so that he might be made an example
of, as a terror to others who were inclined to evil-doing. In Brazil,
unhappily, crime is common, but detection rare; at least, it is so in
the wilder parts of the country. Money, however, is so greedily coveted
by Brazilian and Indian alike that I watched with feverish yet hopeful
anxiety the result of my father-in-law’s large reward. And when I found
there were no results, I added to it considerably myself, and I sent
to Rio for a man who bore a high reputation as a detective. He was a
half-breed in the Government employ, but he was just as much a failure
as anyone else. He learnt nothing. The mystery remained a mystery.
After this it seemed to me that further effort would be useless,
for weeks had passed since the commission of the deed, and every
day that went by only served to increase the difficulty. Around us
was an immense tract of country consisting of valley, mountain, and
virgin forest. Most of the tract was sparsely populated. There were no
telegraph wires, no railways.
As may be supposed, I felt reluctant to tear myself away from the spot
where my sweet one slept--notwithstanding that the place was hateful to
me, for it was associated with her mysterious death. But duty called,
and I had already been too long absent from my post. Everything,
however, seemed hateful to me. Life itself had lost its savour, for
the light of my life had gone out. No man could have been happier than
I when I arrived in Paraúna. A few short weeks and that happiness
had been turned to a sorrow so deep, so overwhelming that I solemnly
declare I would have faced death with the most perfect resignation,
and with the sure and certain hope that I should meet my darling in
a world where there is neither sorrow nor sighing. But my departure
could no longer be delayed, and my preparations being completed I had
arranged to start on the morrow.
That night, after my evening meal, I sat alone, feeling miserable,
dejected, broken-hearted, when there came to me old José, one of the
station hands. He had been born and brought up in the Paraúna district,
and had never travelled fifty leagues away from his birthplace. He
was intensely superstitious, intensely devout, and no less intensely
bigoted; but he had been a faithful servitor, and though he was then
bowed and frail he was still retained in the service.
‘Senhor,’ he began, making a profound obeisance, ‘truly it is sad that
the mystery of your sweet lady’s and Jocelino’s death has not been
solved. But what money has failed to accomplish devilry may do.’
He looked so strange that I thought he must have been indulging too
freely in the native wine, and I asked sharply, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Let not your anger fall on me, Senhor. I do not practise devilry
myself; the saints guard me from it.’ Here he shuddered and crossed
himself. ‘But I have heard some wonderful stories of Anita, though, God
be praised, I have given her a wide berth.’ He crossed himself again.
‘Anita! who is Anita?’ I exclaimed impatiently.
‘The devil’s agent, Senhor,’ he answered, ‘as all the country knows for
miles round; but few can look upon her and live.’
‘Do not befool me with this nonsense,’ I said. ‘I am sick at heart, and
weary. Go. Leave me. I am in no mood to listen to silly stories.’
‘Nay, Senhor, I have no desire to befool you. But Anita--may the Virgin
guard us from evil--is a witch, and they do say she has power over life
and death. Perhaps--I only say perhaps--she might help you to bring the
murderer to justice.’
Although I was irritated and annoyed, and inclined to peremptorily
order the old fellow out of my presence, I restrained myself, he seemed
so earnest, so sincere. So I was induced to question him further, and
I learnt that somewhere up in the mountains an old and withered woman
dwelt in a cavern, and consorted with snakes and wild animals, but was
shunned by human beings as a rule, for she was said to possess the evil
eye, and it was generally believed that she could assume any shape,
and drive men mad with fear. Anyway she was accredited with superhuman
powers, and could show you your future as well as read your past.
I suppose that the frame of mind I was then in, coupled with a
remembrance of the extraordinary incidents in Rio, had something to do
with my desire to know more of this witch-woman, and I asked José if he
could take me to her. But he seemed startled by the bare suggestion,
and again made the sign of the cross on his breast and forehead. No,
he could not, and would not, though I poured gold in sackfuls at his
feet; but there was Torquato, the negro in the village, he might for a
consideration conduct me to Anita. Torquato was a dissolute, drunken
fellow; by calling, a hunter, and used to making long and lonely
journeys over the prairies and into the depths of the virgin forests.
He was daring withal, and he had boasted in his cups that he had often
sat with Anita, and she had shown him wonders. But of course no one
believed him. They called him braggart and liar. Anxious to test if
there was any truth in José’s wonderful stories of Anita’s power, I
bade him fetch Torquato to me. What I had witnessed in Rio and what
had happened since had removed my scepticism, if ever I had been
sceptical, and now I was disposed to clutch at any desperate chance
that promised to solve the mystery. In about an hour Torquato was
introduced to me. He was a pure negro of powerful build, but beyond
that was not remarkable. He was ignorant, but intelligent, and had the
instincts of the born hunter. I questioned him closely. Yes, he knew
Anita, he assured me, and could guide me to her. She was undoubtedly in
league with the Evil One, he averred, and could perform miracles. The
only way I could propitiate her would be by taking her an offering of
tobacco and rum, for which she had a great partiality. My curiosity
being aroused, I resolved to postpone my journey, and start off at
daybreak, with Torquato as guide, to visit Anita, for he undertook to
guide me, and said that as he had always propitiated the witch-woman
he did not fear her, but he would not be answerable for me. I must
take all risk. The weather, which up to then had been exceptionally
fine, changed in the night, and the morning broke with a threatening
and lowering sky. The natives predicted a great storm, but in that
region a storm threatens long before it breaks, so I started off with
Torquato, for I could not restrain my impatience; he carrying on his
broad shoulders a knapsack containing, amongst other things, a quantity
of rum and tobacco, in accordance with his advice. I had taken the
precaution to fully arm myself. I had a double-barrelled hunting rifle,
a six-chambered revolver, and a formidable hunting knife, as well as
a plentiful supply of ammunition. Our road lay by a rough track that
wound up precipitous slopes; then across a strip of prairie and forest;
and finally we had to toil up a sun-smitten, weather-scarred mountain
side. But during our journey we had caught no glimpse of the sun. The
overcast sky had been growing blacker and blacker, and when we reached
the mountain heavy drops of rain began to patter down, and from out
the darkened heavens there leapt a blinding flash of fire that seemed
to extend from horizon to horizon; it was followed instantly by a peal
of thunder that crashed and reverberated until one could almost have
imagined that the end of all things had come. So terrific are these