“That night, I arranged the ‘Defense’ round the girl’s bed, and the Captain and his wife sat up with her, as before. Beaumont, as I expected, insisted on keeping watch with me, and he seemed in a curiously frightened mood; not for himself, you know; but for Miss Hisgins. He had a horrible feeling, he told me, that there would be a final, dreadful attempt on his sweetheart that night.
“This, of course, I told him was nothing but nerves; yet, really, it made me feel very anxious; for I have seen too much, not to know that, under such circumstances, a premonitory conviction of impending danger, is not necessarily to be put down entirely to nerves. In fact, Beaumont was so simply and earnestly convinced that the night would bring some extraordinary manifestation, that I got Parsket to rig up a long cord from the wire of the butler’s bell, to come along the passage handy.
“To the butler himself, I gave directions not to undress, and to give the same order to two of the footmen. If I rang, he was to come instantly, with the footmen, carrying lanterns; and the lanterns were to be kept ready lit all night. If, for any reason, the bell did not ring, and I blew my whistle, he was to take that as a signal in place of the bell.
“After I had arranged all these minor details, I drew a pentacle about Beaumont, and warned him very particularly to stay within it, whatever happened. And when this was done, there was nothing to do but wait, and pray that the night would go as quietly as the night before.
“We scarcely talked at all, and by about one a.m., we were all very tense and nervous; so that, at last, Parsket got up and began to walk up and down the corridor, to steady himself a bit. Presently, I slipped off my pumps, and joined him; and we walked up and down, whispering occasionally, for something over an hour, until in turning I caught my foot in the bell-cord, and went down on my face; but without hurting myself, or making a noise.
“When I got up, Parsket nudged me.
“ ‘Did you notice that the bell never rang,’ he whispered.
“ ‘Jove!’ I said, you’re right.’
“ ‘Wait a minute,’ he answered. ‘I’ll bet it’s only a kink somewhere in the cord. He left his gun, and slipped along the passage, and taking the top lamp, tiptoed away into the house, carrying Beaumont’s revolver ready in his right-hand. He was a plucky chap, as I remember thinking then, and again, later.
“Just then, Beaumont motioned to me for absolute quiet. Directly afterwards, I heard the thing for which he listened—the sound of a horse galloping, out in the night. I think that I may say, I fairly shivered. The sound died away, and left a horrible, desolate, eerie feeling in the air, you know. I put my hand out to the bell-cord, hoping that Parsket had got it clear. Then I waited, glancing before and behind.
“Perhaps two minutes passed, full of what seemed like an almost unearthly quiet. And then, suddenly, down the corridor, at the lighted end, there sounded the clumping of a great hoof; and instantly the lamp was thrown down with a tremendous crash, and we were in the dark. I tugged hard on the cord, and blew the whistle; then I raised my snapshot, and fired the flashlight. The corridor blazed into brilliant light; but there was nothing; and then the darkness fell like thunder. I heard the Captain at the bedroom-door, and shouted to him to bring out a lamp, quick; but instead, something started to kick the door, and I heard the Captain shouting within the bedroom, and then the screaming of the women. I had a sudden horrible fear that the monster had got into the bedroom; but in the same instant, from up the corridor, there came abruptly the vile, gobbling neighing that we had heard in the park and the cellar. I blew the whistle again, and groped blindly for the bell-cord, shouting to Beaumont to stay in the Pentacle, whatever happened. I yelled again to the Captain to bring out a lamp, and there came a smashing sound against the bedroom door. Then I had my matches in my hand, to get some light, before that incredible, unseen Monster was upon us.
“The match scraped on the box, and flared up, dully; and in the same instant, I heard a faint sound behind me. I whipped round, in a kind of mad terror, and saw something, in the light of the match—a monstrous horse-head, close to Beaumont.
“ ‘Look out, Beaumont!’ I shouted in a sort of scream. ‘It’s behind you!’
“The match went out, abruptly, and instantly there came the huge bang of Parsket’s double-barrel (both barrels at once), fired evidently single-handed by Beaumont close to my ear, as it seemed. I caught a momentary glimpse of the great head, in the flash, and of an enormous hoof amid the belch of fire and smoke, seeming to be descending upon Beaumont. In the same instant, I fired three chambers of my revolver. There was the sound of a dull blow, and then that horrible, gobbling neigh, broke out close to me. I fired twice at the sound. Immediately afterward, Something struck me, and I was knocked backwards. I got on to my knees, and shouted for help, at the top of my voice. I heard the women screaming behind the closed door of the bedroom, and was dully aware that the door was being smashed from the inside; and directly afterwards I knew that Beaumont was struggling with some hideous thing, near to me. For an instant, I held back, stupidly, paralysed with funk; and then, blindly and in a sort of rigid chill of goose-flesh, I went to help him, shouting his name. I can tell you, I was nearly sick, with the naked fear I had on me. There came a little, choking scream, out of the darkness; and, at that, I jumped forward into the dark. I gripped a vast, furry ear. Then something struck me another great blow, knocking me sick. I hit back, weak and blind, and gripped with my other hand at the incredible thing. Abruptly, I was dimly aware of a tremendous crash behind me, and a great burst of light. There were other lights in the passage, and a noise of feet and shouting. My hand-grips were torn from the thing they held; I shut my eyes stupidly, and heard a loud yell above me; and then a heavy blow, like a butcher chopping meat; and then something fell upon me.
“I was helped to my knees by the Captain and the butler. On the floor lay an enormous horse-head, out of which protruded a man’s trunk and legs. On the wrists were fixed great hoofs. It was the monster. The Captain cut something with the sword that he held in his hand, and stooped, and lifted off the mask; for that is what it was. I saw the face then of the man who had worn it. It was Parsket. He had a bad wound across the forehead, where the Captain’s sword had bit through the mask. I looked bewilderedly from him to Beaumont, who was sitting up, leaning against the wall of the corridor. Then I stared at Parsket, again.
“ ‘By Jove!’ I said, at last; and then I was quiet; for I was so ashamed for the man. You can understand, can’t you? And he was opening his eyes. And, you know, I had grown so to like him.
“And then, you know, just as Parsket was getting back his wits, and looking from one to the other of us, and beginning to remember, there happened a strange and incredible thing. For from the end of the corridor, there sounded, suddenly, the clumping of a great hoof. I looked that way, and then instantly at Parsket, and saw a horrible fear in his face and eyes. He wrenched himself round, weakly, and stared in mad terror up the corridor to where the sound had been; and the rest of us stared, in a frozen group. I remember hearing vaguely, half sobs and whispers from Miss Hisgins’ bedroom, all the while that I stared frightenedly, up the corridor.
“The silence lasted several seconds; and then, abruptly, there came again the clumping of the great hoof, away at the end of the corridor. And immediately afterward, the clungk, clunk—clungk, clunk, of mighty hoofs coming down the passage, towards us.
“Even then, you know, most of us thought it was some mechanism of Parsket’s still at work; and we were in the queerest mixture of fright and doubt. I think everyone looked at Parsket. And suddenly the Captain shouted out:—
“ ‘Stop this damned fooling at once. Haven’t you done enough!’
“For my part, I was now frightened; for I had a sense that there was something horrible and wrong. And then Parsket managed to gasp out:—
“ ‘It’s not me! My God! It’s not me! My God! It’s not me!’
“And then, you know, it seemed to come home to everyone in an
instant that there was really some dreadful thing coming down the passage. There was a mad rush to get away, and even old Captain Hisgins gave back with the butler and the footmen. Beaumont fainted outright, as I found afterwards; for he had been badly mauled. I just flattened back against the wall, kneeling, as I was, too stupid and dazed even to run. And almost in the same instant the ponderous hoof-falls sounded close to me, and seeming to shake the solid floor, as they passed. Abruptly the great sounds ceased, and I knew in a sort of sick fashion that the thing had halted opposite to the open door of the girl’s bedroom. And then I was aware that Parsket was standing rocking in the doorway, with his arms spread across, so as to fill the doorway with his body. I saw with less bewilderment. Parsket was extraordinarily pale, and the blood was running down his face from the wound in his forehead; and then I noticed that he seemed to be looking at something in the passage, with a peculiar, desperate, fixed, incredibly masterful gaze. But, there was really nothing to be seen. And suddenly, the clungk, clunk—clungk, clunk, recommenced, and passed onward down the passage. In the same moment, Parskett pitched forward out of the doorway on to his face.
“There were shouts from the huddle of men down the passage, and the two footmen and the butler simply ran, carrying their lanterns; but the Captain went against the side-wall with his back, and put the lamp he was carrying over his head. The dull tread of the Horse went past him, and left him unharmed; and I heard the monstrous hoof-falls going away and away through the quiet house; and after that a dead silence.
“Then the Captain moved, and came towards us, very slow and shaky, and with an extraordinarily grey face.
“I crept towards Parsket, and the Captain came to help me. We turned him over; and, you know, I knew in a moment that he was dead; but you can imagine what a feeling it sent through me.
“I looked up at the Captain; and suddenly he said:—
“ ‘That— That— That—’ and I know that he was trying to tell me that Parsket had stood between his daughter and whatever it was that had gone down the passage. I stood up, and steadied him; though I was not very steady myself. And suddenly, his face began to work, and he went down on to his knees by Parsket, and cried like some shaken child. Then the women came out of the doorway of the bedroom; and I turned away and left him to them, whilst I went over to Beaumont.
“That is practically the whole story; and the only thing that is left to me is to try to explain some of the puzzling parts, here and there.
“Perhaps you have seen that Parsket was in love with Miss Hisgins; and this fact is the key to a good deal that was extraordinary. He was doubtless responsible for some portions of the ‘haunting’; in fact, I think for nearly everything; but, you know, I can prove nothing, and what I have to tell you is chiefly the result of deduction.
“In the first place, it is obvious that Parsket’s intention was to frighten Beaumont away; and when he found that he could not do this, I think he grew so desperate that he really intended to kill him. I hate to say this; but the facts force me to think so.
“I am quite certain that it was Parsket who broke Beaumont’s arm. He knew all the details of the so-called ‘Horse Legend’, and got the idea to work upon the old story, for his own end. He evidently had some method of slipping in and out of the house, probably through one of the many French windows, or possibly he had a key to one or two of the garden doors; and when he was supposed to be away, he was really coming down, on the quiet, and hiding somewhere in the neighbourhood.
“The incident of the kiss in the dark hall, I put down to sheer nervous imaginings on the part of Beaumont and Miss Hisgins; yet, I must say that the sound of the horse outside of the front door, is a little difficult to explain away. But I am still inclined to keep to my first idea on this point, that there was nothing really unnatural about it.
“The hoof-sounds in the billiard-room and down the passage, were done by Parsket, from the floor below, by pomping up against the panelled ceiling, with a block of wood tied to one of the window-hooks. I proved this, by an examination, which showed the dints in the woodwork.
“The sounds of the horse galloping round the house, were possibly made also by Parsket, who must have had a horse tied up in the plantation, near by, unless, indeed, he made the sounds himself; but I do not see how he could have gone fast enough to produce the illusion. In any case, I don’t feel perfect certainty on this point. I failed to find any hoof-marks, as you remember.
“The gobbling neighing in the park was a ventriloquial achievement on the part of Parsket; and the attack out there on Beaumont was also by him, so that when I thought he was in his bedroom, he must have been outside all the time, and joined me after I ran out of the front-door. This is almost probable; I mean that Parsket was the cause; for if it had been something more serious, he would certainly have given up his foolishness, knowing that there was no longer any need for it. I cannot imagine how he escaped being shot, both then, and in the last mad action, of which I have just told you. He was enormously without fear of any kind for himself, as you can see.
“The time when Parsket was with us, when we thought we heard the Horse galloping round the house, we must have been deceived. No one was very sure, except, of course, Parsket, who would naturally encourage the belief.
“The neighing in the cellar, is where I consider there came the first suspicion into Parsket’s mind that there was something more at work than his sham-haunting. The neighing was done by him, in the same way that he did it in the park; but when I remember how ghastly he looked, I feel sure that the sounds must have had some infernal quality added to them, which frightened the man himself. Yet, later, he would persuade himself that he had been getting fanciful. Of course, I must not forget that the effect upon Miss Hisgins must have made him feel pretty miserable.
“Then, about the clergyman being called away, we found afterwards that it was a bogus errand, or rather, call; and it is apparent that Parsket was at the bottom of this, so as to get a few more hours in which to achieve his end; and what that was, a very little imagination will show you; for he had found that Beaumont would not be frightened away. I hate to think this; but I’m bound to. Anyway, it is obvious that the man was temporarily a bit off his normal balance. Love’s a queer disease!
“Then, there is no doubt at all but that Parsket left the cord to the butler’s bell hitched somewhere, so as to give him an excuse to slip away naturally to clear it. This also gave him the opportunity to remove one of the passage lamps. Then he had only to smash the other, and the passage was in utter darkness, for him to make the attempt on Beaumont.
“In the same way, it was he who locked the door of the bedroom, and took the key (it was in his pocket). This prevented the Captain from bringing a light, and coming to the rescue. But Captain Hisgins broke down the door, with the heavy fender-curb; and it was his smashing the door that sounded so confusing and frightening in the darkness of the passage.
“The photograph of the monstrous hoof above Miss Hisgins in the cellar, is one of the things that I am less sure about. It might have been faked by Parsket, whilst I was out of the room, and this would have been easy enough, to anyone who knew how. But, you know, it does not look like a fake. Yet, there is as much evidence of probability that it was faked, as against; and the thing is too vague for an examination to help to a definite decision; so that I will express no opinion, one way or the other. It is certainly a horrible photograph.
“And now I come to that last, dreadful thing. There has been no further manifestation of anything abnormal; so that there is an extraordinary uncertainty in my conclusions. IF we had not heard those last sounds, and if Parsket had not shown that enormous sense of fear, the whole of this case could be explained in the way in which I have shown. And, in fact, as you have seen, I am of the opinion that almost all of it can be cleared up; but I see no way of going past the thing we heard at the last, and the fear that Parsket showed.
“His death— No, that proves nothing. At the inquest it
was described somewhat untechnically as due to heart-spasm. That is normal enough, and leaves us quite in the dark as to whether he died because he stood between the girl and some incredible thing of monstrosity.
“The look on Parsket’s face, and the thing he called out, when he heard the great hoof-sounds coming down the passage, seem to show that he had the sudden realisation of what before then may have been nothing more than a horrible suspicion. And his fear and appreciation of some tremendous danger approaching was probably more keenly real even than mine. And then he did the one fine, great thing!”
“And the cause?” I said. “What caused it?”
Carnacki shook his head.
“God knows,” he answered, with a peculiar, sincere reverence. “IF that thing was what it seemed to be, one might suggest an explanation, which would not offend one’s reason, but which may be utterly wrong. Yet I have thought, though it would take a long lecture on Thought Induction to get you to appreciate my reasons, that Parsket had produced what I might term a kind of ‘induced haunting’, a kind of induced simulation of his mental conceptions, due to his desperate thoughts and broodings. It is impossible to make it clearer, in a few words.”
“But the old story!” I said. “Why may not there have been something in that ?”
“There may have been something in it,” said Carnacki. “But I do not think it had anything to do with this. I have not clearly thought out my reasons, yet; but later I may be able to tell you why I think so.”
“And the marriage. And the cellar—was there anything found there?” asked Taylor.
“Yes, the marriage was performed that day, in spite of the tragedy.” Carnacki told us. “It was the wisest thing to do—considering the things that I cannot explain. Yes, I had the floor of that big cellar up; for I had a feeling I might find something there to give me some light. But there was nothing.
The House on the Borderland and Other Mysterious Places Page 31