The Mammoth Book of Haunted House Stories (Mammoth Books) (84 page)

“I am suffocating; I am suffocating!”

We rushed to his succour, but with a single effort of his bony fingers he had already torn off his collar and his cravat; and now, motionless, holding his head erect, and settling down in the huge armchair, he burst into tears.

“You are good fellows,” he said at last, in milder tones. “You shall know everything. You shall not leave this house in ignorance, taking me for a madman – for a poor, miserable, melancholy madman.

“Yes, indeed,” he continued; “yes, you shall know everything. It may be of use to you.”

He rose, paced up and down, then halted in front of us, staring at us with the dimmed look that had given way to the momentary flash.

“Sixty years ago I was entering upon my eighteenth year. With all the overweening presumption of youth, I was sceptical of everything. Nature had fashioned me strong and handsome. Fate had endowed me with enormous wealth. I became the most fashionable youth of my day. Paris, gentlemen, with all its pleasures, was for ten years at my feet. When I had reached the age of twenty-eight I was on the brink of ruin. There remained to me between two and three hundred thousand francs and this manor, with the land surrounding it.

“Just at that time, gentlemen, I fell madly in love with an angelic creature. I could never have dreamt of the existence of such beauty and purity. The girl whom I adored was ignorant of the passionate love which was consuming me, and she remained so. Her family was one of the wealthiest in all Europe. For nothing in this world would I have had her suspect that I aspired to the honour of her hand in order to replenish my empty coffers with her dowry. So I went the way of the gambling-dens, in the vain hope of recovering my vanished millions. I lost all, and one fine evening I left Paris to come and bury myself in this old mansion, my sole refuge.

“I found here an old man, Father Appenzel; his granddaughter, of whom later on I made a servant; and his grandson, a child of tender years, who grew up to manhood on the estate, and who is now my steward. I fell prey, on the very evening of my arrival, to despair and ennui. The astounding events that followed took place that very evening.

“When I went up to my room – the room which one of you has asked to be allowed to occupy tonight – I had made up my mind to take my own life. A brace of pistols lay on the chest of drawers. Suddenly, as I was putting my hand on one of the pistols, my dog began to howl in the courtyard – to howl as I have never heard the wind howl, unless it be tonight.

“ ‘So,’ thought I, ‘here is Mystere raising a death-howl. She must know that I am going to kill myself tonight.’

“I toyed with the pistol, recalling of a sudden what my past life had been, and wondering for the first time what my death would be like. Suddenly my eye lighted on the titles of a few old books which stood on a shelf hanging above the chest of drawers. I was surprised to see that all of them dealt with sorcerers and matters appertaining to the powers of evil. I took up a book,
The Sorcerers of the Jura
, and, with the sceptical smile of the man who has defied Fate, I opened it. The first two lines, printed in red, at once caught my eye:

“ ‘
He who seriously wishes to see the devil has but to summon him with his whole heart, and he will come
.”

“Then followed the story of an individual who, like myself, a lover in despair – like myself, a ruined man – had in all sincerity summoned to his help the Prince of Darkness, and who had been assisted by him; for, a few months later, he had once more become incredibly rich and had married his beloved. I read the story to the end.

“ ‘Well, here was a lucky fellow!’ I exclaimed, tossing the book on to the chest of drawers. Mystere was still howling in the grounds. I parted the window-curtains, and could not help shuddering when I saw the dog’s shadow dancing in the moonlight. It really seemed as if the slut was possessed of some evil spirit, for her movements were inexplicably eccentric. She seemed to be snapping at some invisible form!

“I tried to laugh over the matter, but the state of my mind, the story I had just read, the howling of the dog, her strange leaps, the sinister locality, the old room, the pistols which I myself had loaded, all had contributed to take a greater hold of my imagination than I dared confess.

“Leaving the window I strolled about the room for awhile. Of a sudden I saw myself in the mirror of the wardrobe. My pallor was such that I thought that I was dead. Alas, no! The man standing before the wardrobe was not dead. It was, on the contrary, a living man who, with all his heart, was summoning the King of Lost Souls.

“Yes, with all my heart. I was too young to die; I wished to enjoy life for a while yet; to be rich once more; for her, for her sake, for the one who was an angel. Yes, yes, I, I myself summoned the devil!

“And then, in the mirror, side by side with my form, something appeared – something superhuman – a pale object – a mist, a terrible little cloud which was soon transformed into eyes – eyes of fearful loveliness. Another form was standing resplendent beside my haggard face; a mouth – a mouth which said to me, ‘Open!’ At this I recoiled. But the mouth was still saying to me, ‘Open, open, if you dare!’

“Then something knocked three times upon the door inside the wardrobe – and the door flew open of its own accord!”

Just at that instant the old man’s narrative was interrupted by three knocks on the door, which suddenly opened, and a man entered.

“Was it you who knocked like that, Guillaume?” asked our host, striving in vain to regain his composure.

“Yes, master.”

“I had given you up for tonight. You saw the notary?”

“Yes; and I did not care to keep so great a sum of money about my person.”

We gathered that Guillaume was the gentleman’s steward. He advanced to the table, took a little bag from the folds of his cloak, extracted some documents from it, and laid them on the table. Then he drew an envelope from his bag, emptied its contents on the table, and counted out twelve one-thousand-franc notes.

“There’s the purchase-money for Misery Wood.”

“Good, Guillaume,” said our host, picking up the banknotes and replacing them in the envelope. “You must be hungry. Are you going to sleep here tonight?”

“No; it is impossible. I have to call on the farmer. We have some business to transact together early in the morning. However, I do not mind having a bit of supper.”

“Go to Mother Appenzel, my good fellow; she will take good care of you,” adding, as the steward strode towards the kitchen, “Take away all those rubbishy papers.”

The man picked up the documents, while the gentleman, taking a pocket-book out of his pocket, placed the envelope containing the twelve notes into it and returned the book to his pocket.

Then, resuming his narrative, in reply to a request from Makoko, he continued:

“You wish to know what the wardrobe contained? Well, I am going to tell you. There was something which I saw – something which scorched my eyes. There shone within the recess of the wardrobe, written in letters of fire, three words:

“ ‘THOU SHALT WIN!’

“Yes,” he continued, in a gloomy tone, “the devil had, in three words, expressed, in characters of fire, in the depths of the wardrobe, the fate that awaited me. He had left behind him his sign-manual, the irrefutable proof of the hideous pact into which I had entered with him on that tragic night. ‘Thou shalt win!’ A ruined gamester, I sought to become rich, and he told me: ‘Thou shalt win!’ In three short words he granted me the world’s wealth. ‘Thou shalt win!’

“Next morning old Appenzel found me lying unconscious at the foot of the wardrobe. Alas! when I had recovered my senses I had forgotten nothing. I was fated never to forget what I had seen. Wherever I go, wherever I wend my steps, be it night, be it day, I read the fiery phrase, ‘Thou shalt win!’ – on the walls of darkness, on the resplendent orb of the sun, on the earth and in the skies, within myself when I close my eyes, on your faces when I look at you!”

The old man, exhausted, ceased speaking, and fell back, moaning, into the armchair.

“I must tell you,” he resumed, after a few moments, “that my experience had had so terrifying an effect on me that I had been compelled to stay in bed, where Father Appenzel brought me a soothing potion of herbs. Addressing me, he said: ‘Something incredible has happened, sir. Your dog has become dumb.
She barks in silence!
’

“ ‘Oh, I know, I understand!’ I exclaimed. ‘She will not recover her voice until
he
shall have returned!’

“Father Appenzel looked at me in amazement and fright, for my hair was standing on end. In spite of myself, my gaze was straying towards the wardrobe. Father Appenzel, as alarmed and agitated as myself, went on to say:

“ ‘When I found you, sir, on the floor this morning the wardrobe was inclined as it is now, while its door was open. I closed it, but I was unable to get it to stand upright. It seems always on the point of falling forward.’

“I begged old Appenzel to leave me to myself. I got out of bed, went to the wardrobe and opened its door. Conceive, I pray you, my feelings when I had done so. The sentence, that sentence written in characters of fire, was still there! It was graven in the boards at the back; it had burnt the boards with its imprint; and by day I read what I had read by night – the words: ‘Thou shalt win.’

“I flew out of the room. I called for help. Father Appenzel returned. I said to him: ‘Look into the depths of that wardrobe, and tell me what you see there!’

“My servant did as I bid him, and said to me: ‘Thou shalt win!’

“I dressed myself. I fled like a madman from the accursed house, and wandered in the mountains. The mountain air did me good. When I came home in the evening I was perfectly calm; I had thought matters over; my dog might have become dumb through some perfectly natural physiological phenomenon. With regard to the sentence in the wardrobe, it had not come there of itself, and, as I had not had any previous acquaintance with that piece of furniture, it was probable that the three fatal words had been there for countless years, inscribed by someone addicted to the black art, following upon some gambling affair which was no concern of mine.

“I ate my supper, and went to bed in the same room. The night passed without incident.

“Next day I went to La Chaux-de-Fonds, to call on a notary. All that this adventure with the wardrobe had succeeded in doing was to imbue me with the idea of tempting fate in the shape of cards, one last time, ere putting into execution my idea about suicide. I borrowed a few one-thousand-franc notes on the security of the estate, and I took train for Paris. As I ascended the staircase of the club I recalled my nightmare, and remarked to myself ironically, for I placed no faith in the success of this supreme attempt: ‘We shall now see whether, if the devil helps me—’ I did not finish the sentence.

“The bank was being put up to auction when I entered the salon. I secured it for two hundred louis. I had not reached the middle of my deal when I had already won two hundred and fifty thousand francs! But no longer would any of the players stake against me.
I was winning every game!

“I was jubilant; I had never dreamt that such luck would be mine. I threw up the bank – i.e., what remained of it for me to hold. I next amused myself at throwing away chances, just to see what would happen. In spite of this I continued winning. Exclamations were heard on all sides. The players vowed I had the devil’s own luck. I collected my winnings and left.

“No sooner had I reached the street when I began to think and to become alarmed. The coincidence between the scene of the wardrobe and of my extraordinary success as a banker troubled me. Of a sudden, and to my surprise, I found myself wending my way back to the club. I was resolved to probe the matter to the bottom. My short-lived joy was disturbed by the fact that I had not lost once. So it was that I was anxious to lose just once.

“When I left the club for the second time, at six o’clock in the morning, I had won, in money and on parole, no less than a couple of millions. But I had not once lost – not a single, solitary time. I felt myself becoming a raving madman. When I say that I had not lost once, I speak with regard to money, for when I had played for nothing, without stakes, to see, just for the fun of the matter, I lost inexorably. But no sooner had a punter staked even as low as half a franc against me, I won his money. It mattered little, a sou or a million francs. I could no longer lose. ‘Thou shalt win!’ Oh, that terrible curse! That curse! For a whole week did I try. I went into the worst gambling-hells. I sat down to card-tables presided over by card-sharpers; I won even from them; I won from one and all against whom I played. I did nothing but win!

“So, you no longer laugh, gentlemen! You scoff no more! You see now, good sirs, that one should never be in a hurry to laugh! I told you I had seen the devil! Do you believe me now? I possessed then the certainty, the palpable proof, visible to one and all, the natural and terrestrial proof of my revolting compact with the devil. The law of probabilities no longer existed as far as I was concerned. There were not even any probabilities. There remained only the supernatural certainty of winning eternally – until the day of death. Death! I could no longer dream of it as a desire. For the first time in my life I dreaded it. The terrors of death haunted me, because of what awaited me at the end!

“My uppermost thought was to redeem my soul – my wretched soul, my lost soul. I frequented the churches. I saw priests. I prostrated myself at the foot of the church steps. I beat my delirious head on the sacred flagstones! I prayed to God that I might lose, just as I had prayed to the devil that I might win. On leaving the holy place I was wont to hurry to some low gambling-den and stake a few louis on a card. But I continued winning for ever and ever! ‘Thou shalt win!’