Tales of terror
can give you. If you are cowards, go at once and come here no more.’
The taunt had its effect. I did my best to overcome the repugnance
and even horror that I felt and entered the cavern with boldness, or
at any rate assumed boldness, and Torquato followed. We reached the
inner chamber where we had been on the previous visit. A burning torch
was stuck in the rock, and threw a blood-red glare over the scene. I
noted that the carpet was no longer there, but in its place stood a
peculiarly shaped brazier containing living charcoal that gave off
unpleasant fumes.
The old woman uncoiled the snake from her arm. It offered no
resistance. It appeared to be perfectly passive. Then she coiled it
into the figure of 8 at her feet, and told us to sit cross-legged on
the ground as she did.
‘You seek to know the past,’ she said, fixing her awful eyes upon me.
‘Yes.’
‘But not the future?’
‘No.’
‘’Tis well.’
She began to make eccentric movements with both her hands before our
eyes, and what followed was as a dream. I was conscious of a peculiar
sense of languor stealing over me that was far from unpleasant.
Presently I saw the woman snatch the burning torch from the niche in
the rock and extinguish it, and we were plunged in Cimmerian gloom. A
few minutes, as it seemed to me, passed, when a startling and peculiar
light permeated the cavern. It proceeded from the brazier, from which
rose a slender blue column of vapour that gave off apparently a
phosphorescent glow. Anita was still standing, the snake was hanging
from her neck, its head darting backwards and forwards viciously as
if it were attacking its prey, while the woman with her long skinny
arms described figures in the air. The blue, flowing column of smoke
or vapour rose slowly, for it was dense and spread out mushroom shape
until it filled every corner and crevice, and I seemed at last to be
gazing through the medium of blue glass at a rolling prairieland over
which the sun was shining brightly. The woman, the snake, the brazier,
had faded away now, and only that vast stretch of sun-scorched prairie
was visible. But presently, afar off, I saw two people on horseback.
They gradually came nearer, and I recognised my sweet wife and
Jocelino. Juliette was laughing merrily and seemed blithe and happy.
They halted in the shadow of a rock, and hobbling their horses partook
of their midday meal. That finished, and after a short siesta, they
mounted their steeds and rode at a gallop towards a belt of virgin
forest which they entered and were lost to my view. Presently they
emerged, each bearing a mass of a peculiar orchid with flowers of the
most brilliant colours. They dismounted again and knelt down on the
ground to arrange the flowers in a more convenient way for carrying.
From out of the forest, and all unobserved by them, a tall, powerful
Indian hunter stole, and crept stealthily towards them. I wanted to cry
out, to warn them, but I couldn’t; I was spellbound. The Indian reached
them, and with an extraordinarily rapid sweep of his arm he plunged a
long knife into my loved one’s bosom. Jocelino half started up, but
before he could offer resistance the arm swept round and the knife was
plunged into his breast. With a grim sardonic grin on his features,
the murderer wiped his dripping blade, and returned to the forest,
reappearing after some lapse of time grasping a writhing coral snake,
which he suddenly flung high into the air, and when it fell with a dull
thud at his feet he struck it on the head with the handle of his knife.
He next dropped upon his knees and seemed to go through some form of
incantation, throwing dirt upon his head, bowing his forehead to the
ground, and raising his hand to heaven alternately, until at last he
rose, laid the bodies side by side on their backs, and placed the snake
at full length between them. Then the whole scene faded, and there was
a blank.
Once more the same scene came before my eyes, but this time it was
moonlight. The soft silver light threw a mysterious sheen over the
landscape. I saw a man come out of the forest. It was the murderer.
His face was filled with a look of concentrated horror, and he began
to move slowly across the prairie, glancing about him in a nervous,
agitated way. I became conscious at last that he was coming towards me,
and I was filled with a fierce joy at the thought that when he came
within reach I could strangle him where he stood. The strangeness of it
all is I could not move; I appeared to be rooted to the spot, but the
Indian ever approached nearer to me, drawn by some power which he tried
to resist, but against which he was helpless. And so nearer and nearer
he came, and all the while that expression of concentrated horror was
on his face. Although I could not move from the spot where I seemed to
be rooted, fiercer and fiercer grew my joy, and I waved my hands about
in expectant eagerness at the thought of being able at last to crush
the worthless life out of the murderer of my sainted wife. On he came.
I got frantic, I tugged and strained, but could not break away from the
power that held me; my eyes ached with the strain put upon them, my
pulses beat with a loud, audible noise, so it seemed to me; there was
a burring and buzzing in my ears, an awful burning sensation was in my
brain. I felt as if I were going mad with the horror of suspense.
At length the murderer came within my reach. I flung out my hands to
seize him, when suddenly the moonlight faded, and there was total
darkness. How long this darkness lasted I know not, but gradually light
began to spread over the landscape again; the moon shone full once
more. At my feet the Indian lay on his back. One knee was drawn up;
one arm was bent under his body, the other was raised up as if he were
appealing to Heaven; his face was twisted and contorted with agony.
He made no motion; he was stark and dead. Some strange irresistible
fascination caused me to fix my gaze upon him, and as I watched I saw
the face wither, the eyes fall into the sockets. Then the flesh of the
arm turned green, and blue, and yellow, and gradually dropped rotten
from the bones. Next the rest of the body began to rot away leaving the
bones bare. Loathsome crawling things fed upon the decaying flesh, and
cobras twisted themselves round his legs and arms.
The maddening, ghastly, gruesome horror of the scene was more than
human brain could stand; and when a huge vulture suddenly descended
and tore out the entrails and began to gorge upon them the climax was
reached. With a mighty effort I burst the spell that enthralled me;
uttered a great cry, and fell prone upon the ground.
What happened after that I know not. What I do know is I seemed
suddenly to awake from a deep sleep. Above me the stars and moon were
shining. From somewhere, far below, came the sound of falling water.
The air was deliciously cool. I was covered with the skin of an animal,
and squatted near me was Anita waving a palm leaf to keep the insects
from my face. I glanced round and recognised that I was lying at the
entrance to the cave.
‘What does all this mean?’ I asked.
‘You have dreamed dreams,’ she answered. ‘You have seen that which is.
Seek to know no more. But sleep, sleep, sleep.’ She repeated the word
‘sleep’ with a sort of drowsy croon that seemed to lull and soothe me.
There was another blank. When I next awoke it was broad daylight and
the sun was already high. I was lying on a bed of skins at the entrance
to the cave. I sat up, and the sound of the falling water far below in
the ravine sounded pleasantly. I called ‘Anita, Anita!’ but there was
no response. Presently I saw a figure crawling from the cavern. It was
Torquato. He suddenly flung himself upon me, and wept and moaned like
one distraught.
‘Oh, master, master, what horrors!’ he cried.
‘Of what do you speak?’ I asked. ‘Tell me all.’
Gradually he regained control of himself. Then he recited to me all
he had witnessed. It was identical with what I had seen. The murder,
the mystery of the snake, the rotting corpse, the loathsome maggots,
the vulture gnawing the entrails. Again I called Anita, but there
was no response. I bade Torquato go into the cave and seek her, but
he flatly refused. I struggled to my feet. I felt strangely ill and
weak, and every now and then I shuddered as a remembrance of the
horror came back. Still I was anxious to see Anita again and question
her. I entered the cavern, but all was dark and silent. I groped my
way forward for some distance and called once more. Only the echoes
answered me. It was all so solemn, so awe-inspiring, so mysterious that
I was glad to return to the fresh air again and to hear the voice of
my companion. It was evident Anita did not intend to come to us, and
so we slowly made our way down the mountain and reached the station at
midday. And I had resolved by that time to make another visit to Anita.
For several days, however, I had to keep my bed as I was feverish and
ill. Then I summoned Torquato. He had also been ill, and when I asked
him if he would go with me to Anita once more, he said, ‘No, not for
a ton of gold’; so I sent to the little town for a notary. When he
came I requested Torquato to tell the notary his marvellous experience
and what he had seen. The notary wrote it down; Torquato signed it,
and I appended a note over my own signature to the effect that I had
witnessed the same scene. We next went before the Mayor of Paraúna
and testified on oath to the correctness of our narrative, and that
done, the strange document was deposited in the municipal archives of
the town, where no doubt it can still be seen by the curious. My next
step was to send out a party of trained hunters to the place where the
bodies had been found, with instructions to search for miles round for
any indications of a human skeleton. They returned after many days,
and reported that two leagues or so from the spot where the crime was
committed, in a sandy sun-smitten waste, where only a few cacti grew,
they came across the bleached skeleton of a man. The bones were falling
apart, but it seemed as if one leg had been drawn up, one arm bent
under the body, the other raised. Beside the body lay a long, rusty
knife. Who the man was we never discovered. Even the knife was unlike
those in use in that part of the country. That the skeleton was the
skeleton of my wife’s murderer I haven’t a shadow of a doubt. Why he
murdered her must remain a mystery until the secrets of all hearts be
known. Who Anita was, and by what marvellous power she was able to show
me the horrors she did, I have no knowledge. There are mysteries of the
earth which the human brain cannot comprehend. It is given to only a
few to see as I have seen and live.
For many years I have kept the awful secrets to myself, but the sands
of my life are running low, and I resolved to give to the world the
story of my strange experiences. To those who may be inclined to scoff
I would repeat, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are
dreamt of in your philosophy.’
* * * * *
NOTE TO ‘THE MYSTIC SPELL.’--Although Signor Roderick, who supplies the
material for the foregoing remarkable story, suggests no theory for the
murder of his wife and her attendant, anyone who has travelled in the
interior of Brazil will have no difficulty in doing so. The Indians
are exceedingly superstitious, resentful, and blood-thirsty, as they
are in many parts of Mexico. In the case of the Brazilians who inhabit
the wild parts of the country, they regard certain parts of the virgin
forests as their own special domains. As mentioned in the story, it is
very unusual for a lady of good social position to be seen abroad, and
the freedom which Juliette enjoyed in this respect was an innovation.