The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English

that I took the pipe out of my mouth and minutely examined the beast. Really, the delusion was excusable. So cunningly had the artist wrought that he succeeded in producing a creature which, such was its uncanniness, I could only hope had no original in nature. Replacing the pipe between my lips I took several whiffs. Never had smoking had such an effect on me before. Either the pipe, or the creature on it, exercised some singular fascination. I seemed, without an instant's warning, to be passing into some land of dreams. I saw the beast, which was perched upon the bowl, writhe and twist. I saw it lift itself bodily from the meerschaum. II "Feeling better now?" I looked up. Joseph Tress was speaking. "What's the matter? Have I been ill?" "You appear to have been in some kind of swoon." Tress's tone was peculiar, even a little dry. "Swoon! I never was guilty of such a thing in my life." "Nor was I, until I smoked that pipe." I sat up. The act of sitting up made me conscious of the fact that I had been lying down. Conscious, too, that I was feeling more than a little dazed. It seemed as though I was waking out of some strange, lethargic sleep--a kind of feeling which I have read of and heard about, but never before experienced. "Where am I?" "You're on the couch in your own room. You _were_ on the floor; but I thought it would be better to pick you up and place you on the couch--though no one performed the same kind office to me when I was on the floor." Again Tress's tone was distinctly dry. "How came _you_ here?" "Ah, that's the question." He rubbed his chin--a habit of his which has annoyed me more than once before. "Do you think you're sufficiently recovered to enable you to understand a little simple explanation?" I stared at him, amazed. He went on stroking his chin. "The truth is that when I sent you the pipe I made a slight omission." "An omission?" "I omitted to advise you not to smoke it." "And why?" "Because--well, I've reason to believe the thing is drugged." "Drugged!" "Or poisoned." "Poisoned!" I was wide awake enough then. I jumped off the couch with a celerity which proved it. "It is this way. I became its owner in rather a singular manner." He paused, as if for me to make a remark; but I was silent. "It is not often that I smoke a specimen, but, for some reason, I did smoke this. I commenced to smoke it, that is. How long I continued to smoke it is more than I can say. It had on me the same peculiar effect which it appears to have had on you. When I recovered consciousness I was lying on the floor." "On the floor?" "On the floor. In about as uncomfortable a position as you can easily conceive. I was lying face downward, with my legs bent under me. I was never so surprised in my life as I was when I found myself _where_ I was. At first I supposed that I had had a stroke. But by degrees it dawned upon me that I didn't _feel_ as though I had had a stroke." Tress, by the way, has been an army surgeon. "I was conscious of distinct nausea. Looking about, I saw the pipe. With me it had fallen on to the floor. I took it for granted, considering the delicacy of the carving, that the fall had broken it. But when I picked it up I found it quite uninjured. While I was examining it a thought flashed to my brain. Might it not be answerable for what had happened to me? Suppose, for instance, it was drugged? I had heard of such things. Besides, in my case were present all the symptoms of drug poisoning, though what drug had been used I couldn't in the least conceive. I resolved that I would give the pipe another trial." "On yourself? or on another party, meaning me?" "On myself, my dear Pugh--on myself! At that point of my investigations I had not begun to think of you. I lit up and had another smoke." "With what result?" "Well, that depends on the standpoint from which you regard the thing. From one point of view the result was wholly satisfactory--I proved that the thing was drugged, and more." "Did you have another fall?" "I did. And something else besides." "On that account, I presume, you resolved to pass the treasure on to me?" "Partly on that account, and partly on another." "On my word, I appreciate your generosity. You might have labeled the thing as poison." "Exactly. But then you must remember how often you have told me that you _never_ smoke your specimens." "That was no reason why you shouldn't have given me a hint that the thing was more dangerous than dynamite." "That did occur to me afterwards. Therefore I called to supply the slight omission." "_Slight_ omission, you call it! I wonder what you would have called it if you had found me dead." "If I had known that you _intended_ smoking it I should not have been at all surprised if I had." "Really, Tress, I appreciate your kindness more and more! And where is this example of your splendid benevolence? Have you pocketed it, regretting your lapse into the unaccustomed paths of generosity? Or is it smashed to atoms?" "Neither the one nor the other. You will find the pipe upon the table. I neither desire its restoration nor is it in any way injured. It is merely an expression of personal opinion when I say that I don't believe that it _could_ be injured. Of course, having discovered its deleterious properties, you will not want to smoke it again. You will therefore be able to enjoy the consciousness of being the possessor of what I honestly believe to be the most remarkable pipe in existence. Good day, Pugh." He was gone before I could say a word. I immediately concluded, from the precipitancy of his flight, that the pipe _was_ injured. But when I subjected it to close examination I could discover no signs of damage. While I was still eying it with jealous scrutiny the door reopened, and Tress came in again. "By the way, Pugh, there is one thing I might mention, especially as I know it won't make any difference to you." "That depends on what it is. If you have changed your mind, and want the pipe back again, I tell you frankly that it won't. In my opinion, a thing once given is given for good." "Quite so; I don't want it back again. You may make your mind easy on that point. I merely wanted to tell you _why_ I gave it you." "You have told me that already." "Only partly, my dear Pugh--only partly. You don't suppose I should have given you such a pipe as that merely because it happened to be drugged? Scarcely! I gave it you because I discovered from indisputable evidence, and to my cost, that it was haunted." "Haunted?" "Yes, haunted. Good day." He was gone again. I ran out of the room, and shouted after him down the stairs. He was already at the bottom of the flight. "Tress! Come back! What do you mean by talking such nonsense?" "Of course it's only nonsense. We know that that sort of thing always is nonsense. But if you should have reason to suppose that there is something in it besides nonsense, you may think it worth your while to make inquiries of me. But I won't have that pipe back again in my possession on any terms--mind that!" The bang of the front door told me that he had gone out into the street. I let him go. I laughed to myself as I reëntered the room. Haunted! That was not a bad idea of his. I saw the whole position at a glance. The truth of the matter was that he did regret his generosity, and he was ready to go any lengths if he could only succeed in cajoling me into restoring his gift. He was aware that I have views upon certain matters which are not wholly in accordance with those which are popularly supposed to be the views of the day, and particularly that on the question of what are commonly called supernatural visitations I have a standpoint of my own. Therefore, it was not a bad move on his part to try to make me believe that about the pipe on which he knew I had set my heart there was something which could not be accounted for by ordinary laws. Yet, as his own sense would have told him it would do, if he had only allowed himself to reflect for a moment, the move failed. Because I am not yet so far gone as to suppose that a pipe, a thing of meerschaum and of amber, in the sense in which I understand the word, _could_ be haunted--a pipe, a mere pipe. "Hollo! I thought the creature's legs were twined right round the bowl!" I was holding the pipe in my hand, regarding it with the affectionate eyes with which a connoisseur does regard a curio, when I was induced to make this exclamation. I was certainly under the impression that, when I first took the pipe out of the box, two, if not three of the feelers had been twined about the bowl--twined tightly, so that you could not see daylight between them and it. Now they were almost entirely detached, only the tips touching the meerschaum, and those particular feelers were gathered up as though the creature were in the act of taking a spring. Of course I was under a misapprehension: the feelers _couldn't_ have been twined; a moment before I should have been ready to bet a thousand to one that they were. Still, one does make mistakes, and very egregious mistakes, at times. At the same time, I confess that when I saw that dreadful-looking animal poised on the extreme edge of the bowl, for all the world as though it were just going to spring at me, I was a little startled. I remembered that when I was smoking the pipe I did think I saw the uplifted tentacle moving, as though it were reaching out to me. And I had a clear recollection that just as I had been sinking into that strange state of unconsciousness, I had been under the impression that the creature was writhing and twisting, as though it had suddenly become instinct with life. Under the circumstances, these reflections were not pleasant. I wished Tress had not talked that nonsense about the thing being haunted. It was surely sufficient to know that it was drugged and poisonous, without anything else. I replaced it in the sandalwood box. I locked the box in a cabinet. Quite apart from the question as to whether that pipe was or was not haunted, I know it haunted me. It was with me in a figurative--which was worse than actual--sense all the day. Still worse, it was with me all the night. It was with me in my dreams. Such dreams! Possibly I had not yet wholly recovered from the effects of that insidious drug, but, whether or no, it was very wrong of Tress to set my thoughts into such a channel. He knows that I am of a highly imaginative temperament, and that it is easier to get morbid thoughts into my mind than to get them out again. Before that night was through I wished very heartily that I had never seen the pipe! I woke from one nightmare to fall into another. One dreadful dream was with me all the time--of a hideous, green reptile which advanced toward me out of some awful darkness, slowly, inch by inch, until it clutched me round the neck, and, gluing its lips to mine, sucked the life's blood out of my veins as it embraced me with a slimy kiss. Such dreams are not restful. I woke anything but refreshed when the morning came. And when I got up and dressed I felt that, on the whole, it would perhaps have been better if I never had gone to bed. My nerves were unstrung, and I had that generally tremulous feeling which is, I believe, an inseparable companion of the more advanced stages of dipsomania. I ate no breakfast. I am no breakfast eater as a rule, but that morning I ate absolutely nothing. "If this sort of thing is to continue, I will let Tress have his pipe again. He may have the laugh of me, but anything is better than this." It was with almost funereal forebodings that I went to the cabinet in which I had placed the sandalwood box. But when I opened it my feelings of