CHAPTER XXVII
THE TERROR BY NIGHT
When I left papa,--or, rather, when papa had driven me from him--I wentstraight to the man whom I had found in the street. It was late, and Iwas feeling both tired and worried, so that I only thought of seeingfor myself how he was. In some way, he seemed to be a link between Pauland myself, and as, at that moment, links of that kind were precious, Icould not have gone to bed without learning something of his condition.
The nurse received me at the door.
'Well, nurse, how's the patient?'
Nurse was a plump, motherly woman, who had attended more than one oddprotege of mine, and whom I kept pretty constantly at my beck and call.She held out her hands.
'It's hard to tell. He hasn't moved since I came.'
'Not moved?--Is he still insensible?'
'He seems to me to be in some sort of trance. He does not appear tobreathe, and I can detect no pulsation, but the doctor says he's stillalive,--it's the queerest case I ever saw.'
I went farther into the room. Directly I did so the man in the bed gavesigns of life which were sufficiently unmistakable. Nurse hastened tohim.
'Why,' she exclaimed, 'he's moving!--he might have heard you enter!'
He not only might have done, but it seemed possible that that was whathe actually had done. As I approached the bed, he raised himself to asitting posture, as, in the morning, he had done in the street, and heexclaimed, as if he addressed himself to someone whom he saw in frontof him,--I cannot describe the almost more than human agony which wasin his voice,
'Paul Lessingham!--Beware!--The Beetle!'
What he meant I had not the slightest notion. Probably that was whywhat seemed more like a pronouncement of delirium than anything elsehad such an extraordinary effect upon my nerves. No sooner had hespoken than a sort of blank horror seemed to settle down upon my mind.I actually found myself trembling at the knees. I felt, all at once, asif I was standing in the immediate presence of something awful yetunseen.
As for the speaker, no sooner were the words out of his lips, than, aswas the case in the morning, he relapsed into a condition of trance.Nurse, bending over him, announced the fact.
'He's gone off again!--What an extraordinary thing!--I suppose it isreal.' It was clear, from the tone of her voice, that she shared thedoubt which had troubled the policeman, 'There's not a trace of apulse. From the look of things he might be dead. Of one thing I'm sure,that there's something unnatural about the man. No natural illness Iever heard of, takes hold of a man like this.'
Glancing up, she saw that there was something unusual in my face; anappearance which startled her.
'Why, Miss Marjorie, what's the matter!--You look quite ill!'
I felt ill, and worse than ill; but, at the same time, I was quiteincapable of describing what I felt to nurse. For some inscrutablereason I had even lost the control of my tongue,--I stammered.
'I--I--I'm not feeling very well, nurse; I--I--I think I'll be betterin bed.'
As I spoke, I staggered towards the door, conscious, all the while,that nurse was staring at me with eyes wide open, When I got out of theroom, it seemed, in some incomprehensible fashion, as if something hadleft it with me, and that It and I were alone together in the corridor.So overcome was I by the consciousness of its immediate propinquity,that, all at once, I found myself cowering against the wall,--as if Iexpected something or someone to strike me.
How I reached my bedroom I do not know. I found Fanchette awaiting me.For the moment her presence was a positive comfort,--until I realisedthe amazement with which she was regarding me.
'Mademoiselle is not well?'
'Thank you, Fanchette, I--I am rather tired. I will undress myselfto-night--you can go to bed.'
'But if mademoiselle is so tired, will she not permit me to assist her?'
The suggestion was reasonable enough,--and kindly too; for, to say theleast of it, she had as much cause for fatigue as I had. I hesitated. Ishould have liked to throw my arms about her neck, and beg her not toleave me; but, the plain truth is, I was ashamed. In my innerconsciousness I was persuaded that the sense of terror which hadsuddenly come over me was so absolutely causeless, that I could notbear the notion of playing the craven in my maid's eyes. While Ihesitated, something seemed to sweep past me through the air, and tobrush against my cheek in passing. I caught at Fanchette's arm.
'Fanchette!--Is there something with us in the room?'
'Something with us in the room?--Mademoiselle?--What does mademoisellemean?'
She looked disturbed,--which was, on the whole, excusable. Fanchette isnot exactly a strong-minded person, and not likely to be much of asupport when a support was most required. If I was going to play thefool, I would be my own audience. So I sent her off.
'Did you not hear me tell you that I will undress myself?--you are togo to bed.'
She went to bed,--with quite sufficient willingness.
The instant that she was out of the room I wished that she was backagain. Such a paroxysm of fear came over me, that I was incapable ofstirring from the spot on which I stood, and it was all I could do toprevent myself from collapsing in heap on the floor. I had never, tillthen, had reason to suppose that I was a coward. Nor to suspect myselfof being the possessor of 'nerves.' I was as little likely as anyone tobe frightened by shadows. I told myself that the whole thing was sheerabsurdity, and that I should be thoroughly ashamed of my own conductwhen the morning came. 'If you don't want to be self-branded as acontemptible idiot, Marjorie Lindon, you will call up your courage, andthese foolish fears will fly.' But it would not do. Instead of flying,they grew worse. I became convinced,--and the process of conviction wasterrible beyond words!--that there actually was something with me inthe room, some invisible horror,--which, at any moment, might becomevisible. I seemed to understand--with a sense of agony which nothingcan describe!--that this thing which was with me was with Paul. That wewere linked together by the bond of a common, and a dreadful terror.That, at that moment, that same awful peril which was threatening me,was threatening him, and that I was powerless to move a finger in hisaid. As with a sort of second sight, I saw out of the room in which Iwas, into another, in which Paul was crouching on the floor, coveringhis face with his hands, and shrieking. The vision came again and againwith a degree of vividness of which I cannot give the least conception.At last the horror, and the reality of it, goaded me to frenzy. 'Paul!Paul!' I screamed. As soon as I found my voice, the vision faded. Oncemore I understood that, as a matter of simple fact, I was standing inmy own bedroom; that the lights were burning brightly; that I had notyet commenced to remove a particle of dress. 'Am I going mad?' Iwondered. I had heard of insanity taking extraordinary forms, but whatcould have caused softening of the brain in me I had not the faintestnotion. Surely that sort of thing does not come on one--in such awholly unmitigated form!--without the slightest notice,--and that mymental faculties were sound enough a few minutes back I was certain.The first premonition of anything of the kind had come upon me with themelodramatic utterance of the man I had found in the street.
'Paul Lessingham!--Beware!--The Beetle!'
The words were ringing in my ears.--What was that?--. There was abuzzing sound behind me. I turned to see what it was. It moved as Imoved, so that it was still at my back. I swung, swiftly, right roundon my heels. It still eluded me,--it was still behind.
I stood and listened,--what was it that hovered so persistently at myback?
The buzzing was distinctly audible. It was like the humming of a bee.Or--could it be a beetle?
My whole life long I have had an antipathy to beetles,--of any sort orkind. I have objected neither to rats nor mice, nor cows, nor bulls,nor snakes, nor spiders, nor toads, nor lizards, nor any of thethousand and one other creatures, animate or otherwise, to which somany people have a rooted, and, apparently, illogical dislike. Mypet--and only--horror has been beetles. The mere suspicion of aharmless, and, I am told, necessary cockroach, being within severalfe
et has always made me seriously uneasy. The thought that a great,winged beetle--to me, a flying beetle is the horror of horrors!--waswith me in my bedroom,--goodness alone knew how it had got there!--wasunendurable. Anyone who had beheld me during the next few moments wouldcertainly have supposed I was deranged. I turned and twisted, sprangfrom side to side, screwed myself into impossible positions, in orderto obtain a glimpse of the detested visitant,--but in vain. I couldhear it all the time; but see it--never! The buzzing sound wascontinually behind.
The terror returned,--I began to think that my brain must be softening.I dashed to the bed. Flinging myself on my knees, I tried to pray. ButI was speechless,--words would not come; my thoughts would not takeshape. I all at once became conscious, as I struggled to ask help ofGod, that I was wrestling with something evil,--that if I only couldask kelp of Him, evil would flee. But I could not. I washelpless,--overmastered. I hid my face in the bedclothes, cramming myfingers into my ears. But the buzzing was behind me all the time.
I sprang up, striking out, blindly, wildly, right and left, hittingnothing,--the buzzing always came from a point at which, at the moment,I was not aiming.
I tore off my clothes. I had on a lovely frock which I had worn for thefirst time that night; I had had it specially made for the occasion ofthe Duchess' ball, and--more especially--in honour of Paul's greatspeech. I had said to myself, when I saw my image in a mirror, that itwas the most exquisite gown I had ever had, that it suited me toperfection, and that it should continue in my wardrobe for many a day,if only as a souvenir of a memorable night. Now, in the madness of myterror, all reflections of that sort were forgotten. My only desire wasto away with it. I tore it off anyhow, letting it fall in rags on thefloor at my feet. All else that I had on I flung in the same way afterit; it was a veritable holocaust of dainty garments,--I acting asrelentless executioner who am, as a rule, so tender with my things. Ileaped upon the bed, switched off the electric light, hurried into bed,burying myself, over head and all, deep down between the sheets.
I had hoped that by shutting out the light, I might regain my senses.That in the darkness I might have opportunity for sane reflection. ButI had made a grievous error. I had exchanged bad for worse. Thedarkness lent added terrors. The light had not been out five secondsbefore I would have given all that I was worth to be able to switch iton again.
As I cowered beneath the bedclothes I heard the buzzing sound above myhead,--the sudden silence of the darkness had rendered it more audiblethan it had been before. The thing, whatever it was, was hovering abovethe bed. It came nearer and nearer; it grew clearer and clearer. I feltit alight upon the coverlet;--shall I ever forget the sensations withwhich I did feel it? It weighed upon me like a ton of lead. How much ofthe seeming weight was real, and how much imaginary, I cannot pretendto say; but that it was much heavier than any beetle I have ever seenor heard of, I am sure.
For a time it was still,--and during that time I doubt if I even drewmy breath. Then I felt it begin to move, in wobbling fashion, withawkward, ungainly gait, stopping every now and then, as if for rest. Iwas conscious that it was progressing, slowly, yet surely, towards thehead of the bed. The emotion of horror with which I realised what thisprogression might mean, will be, I fear, with me to the end of mylife,--not only in dreams, but too often, also, in my waking hours. Myheart, as the Psalmist has it, melted like wax within me, I wasincapable of movement,--dominated by something as hideous as, andinfinitely more powerful than, the fascination of the serpent.
When it reached the head of the bed, what I feared--with what afear!--would happen, did happen. It began to find its way inside,--tocreep between the sheets; the wonder is I did not die! I felt it comingnearer and nearer, inch by inch; I knew that it was upon me, thatescape there was none; I felt something touch my hair.
And then oblivion did come to my aid. For the first time in my life Iswooned.