It was very cold, and a wintry wind moaned through the night. As we entered the park, we involuntarily kept closer together.
Somehow, my desire for adventure seemed to be ebbing away, and I wanted to get out from the place and into the lighted streets.
“We’ll just have a look at the statue,” said Will; “then home and to bed.”
A few minutes later we reached a little clearing among the bushes.
“Here we are,” Will whispered. “I wish the moon would come out a moment; it would enable us to get a glance at the thing.” He peered into the gloom on our right. “I’m hanged,” he muttered, “if I can see it at all!”
Glancing to our left, I noticed that the path now led along the edge of a steep slope, at the bottom of which, some considerable distance below us, I caught the gleam of water.
“The park lake,” Will explained in answer to a short query on my part. “Beastly deep, too!”
He turned away, and we both gazed into the dark gap among the bushes.
A moment afterwards the clouds cleared for an instant, and a ray of light struck down full upon us, lighting up the little circle of bushes and showing the clearing plainly. It was only a momentary gleam, but quite sufficient. There stood a pedestal great and black; but there was no statue upon it!
Will gave a quick gasp, and for a minute we stood stupidly; then we commenced to retrace our steps hurriedly. Neither of us spoke. As we moved we glanced fearfully from side to side. Nearly half the return journey was accomplished when, happening to look behind me, I saw in the dim shadows to my left the bushes part, and a huge, white carven face, crowned with black, suddenly protrude.
I gave a sharp cry and reeled backwards. Will turned. “Oh, mercy on us!” I heard him shout, and he started to run.
The Thing came out of the shadow. It looked like a giant. I stood rooted; then it came towards me, and I turned and ran. In the hands I had seen something black that looked like a twisted cloth. Will was some dozen yards ahead. Behind, silent and vast, ran that awful being.
We neared the park entrance. I looked over my shoulder. It was gaining on us rapidly. Onward we tore. A hundred yards further lay the gates; and safety in the lighted streets. Would we do it? Only fifty yards to go, and my chest seemed bursting. The distance shortened. The gates were close to…. We were through. Down the street we ran; then turned to look. It had vanished.
“Thank Heaven!” I gasped, panting heavily.
A minute later Will said: “What a blue funk we’ve been in.” I said nothing. We were making towards the hotel. I was bewildered and wanted to get by myself to think.
Next morning, while I was sitting dejectedly at breakfast, Will came in. We looked at one another shamefacedly. Will sat down. Presently he spoke:
“What cowards we are!”
I said nothing. It was too true; and the knowledge weighed on me like lead.
“Look here!” and Will spoke sharply and sternly. “We’ve got to go through with this matter to the end, if only for our own sakes.”
I glanced at him eagerly. His determined tone seemed to inspire me with fresh hope and courage.
“What we’ve got to do first,” he continued, “is to give that marble god a proper overhauling and make sure no one has been playing tricks with us—perhaps it’s possible to move it in some way.”
I rose from the table and went to the window. It had snowed heavily the preceding day, and the ground was covered with an even layer of white. As I looked out, a sudden idea came to me, and I turned quickly to Will.
“The snow!” I cried. “It will show the footprints, if there are any.”
Will stared, puzzled.
“Round the statue,” I explained, “if we go at once.” He grasped my meaning and stood up. A few minutes later we were striding out briskly for the Park. A sharp walk brought us to the place. As we came in sight, I gave a cry of astonishment. The pedestal was occupied by a figure, identical with the thing that had chased us the night before. There it stood, erect and rigid, its sightless eyes glaring into space.
Will’s face wore a look of expectation.
“See,” he said, “it’s back again. It cannot have managed that by itself, and we shall see by the footprints how many scoundrels there are in the affair.”
He moved forward across the snow. I followed. Reaching the pedestal, we made a careful examination of the ground; but to our utter perplexity the snow was undisturbed. Next, we turned our attention to the figure itself, and though Will, who had seen it often before, searched carefully, he could find nothing amiss.
This, it must be remembered, was my first sight of it, for—now that my mind was rational—I would not admit, even to myself, that what we had seen in the darkness was anything more than a masquerade, intended to lead people to the belief that it was the dead marble they saw walking. Seen in the broad daylight, the thing looked what it was, a marble statue, intended to represent some deity. Which, I could not tell; and when I asked Will, he shook his head.
In height it might have been eight feet, or perhaps a trifle under. The face was large—as indeed was the whole figure—and in expression cruel to the last degree.
Above his brow was a large, strangely shaped headdress, formed out of some jet-black substance. The body was carved from a single block of milk-white marble and draped gracefully and plainly in a robe confined at the waist by a narrow black girdle. The arms drooped loosely by the sides and in the right hand hung a twisted cloth of a similar hue to the girdle. The left was empty and half gripped.
Will had always spoken of the statue as a god. Now, however, as my eyes ran over the various details, a doubt formed itself in my mind, and I suggested to Will that he was possibly mistaken as to the intended sex of the image.
For a moment he looked interested; then remarked gloomily that he didn’t see it mattered much whether the thing was a man-god or a woman-god. The point was, had it the power to come off its pedestal or not?
I looked at him reproachfully.
“Surely you are not really going to believe that silly superstition?” I expostulated.
He shook his head moodily. “No, but can you or anyone else explain away last night’s occurrences in any ordinary manner?”
To this there was no satisfactory reply, so I held my tongue.
“Pity,” remarked Will presently, “that we know so little about this god. And the one man who might have enlightened us dead and gone—goodness knows where?”
“Who’s that?” I queried.
“Oh, of course. I was forgetting, you don’t know! Well, it’s this way: for some years an old Indian colonel called Whigman lived here. He was a queer old stick and absolutely refused to have anything to do with anybody. In fact, with the exception of an old Hindoo serving-man, he saw no one. About nine months ago he and his servant were found brutally murdered—strangled, so the doctors said. And now comes the most surprising part of it all. In his will he had left the whole of his huge estate to the citizens of T—worth to be used as a park.”
“Strangled, I think you said?” and I looked at Will questioningly.
He glanced at me a moment absently, then the light of comprehension flashed across his face. He looked startled. “Jove! you don’t mean that?”
“I do though, old chap. The murder of these others has in every case been accomplished by strangling—their bodies, so you’ve told me, have shown that much. Then there are other things that point to my theory being the right one.”
“What! you really think that the Colonel met his death at the same hands as—?” he did not finish.
I nodded assent.
“Well, if you are correct, what about the length of time between then and Sally Morgan’s murder—seven months isn’t it? —and not a soul hurt all that time, and now—” He threw up his arms with an expressive gesture.
“Heaven knows!” I replied, “I don’t.”
For some length of time we discussed the matter in all its bearings, but without arr
iving at any satisfactory conclusion.
On our way back to the town Will showed me a tiny piece of white marble which he had surreptitiously chipped from the statue. I examined it closely. Yes, it was marble, and somehow the certainty of that seemed to give us more confidence.
“Marble is marble,” Will said, “and it’s ridiculous to suppose anything else.” I did not attempt to deny this.
During the next few days, we paid visits to the park, but without result. The statue remained as we had left it. A week passed. Then, one morning early, before the dawn, we were roused by a frightful scream, followed by a cry of deepest agony. It ended in a murmuring gurgle, and all was silent.
Without hesitation, we seized pistols and with lighted candles rushed from our rooms to the great entrance door. This we hurriedly opened. Outside, the night was very quiet. It had been snowing and the ground was covered with a sheet of white.
For a moment we saw nothing. Then we distinguished the form of a woman lying across the steps leading up to the door. Running out, we seized her and carried her into the hall. There we recognized her as one of the waitresses of the hotel. Will turned back her collar and exposed the throat, showing a livid weal round it.
He was very serious, and his voice trembled, though not with fear, as he spoke to me. “We must dress and follow the tracks; there is no time to waste.” He smiled gravely. “I don’t think we shall do the running away this time.”
At this moment the landlord appeared. On seeing the girl and hearing our story, he seemed thunderstruck with fear and amazement, and could do nothing save wring his hands helplessly. Leaving him with the body, we went to our rooms and dressed quickly; then down again into the hall, where we found a crowd of fussy womenfolk around the poor victim.
In the taproom I heard voices and, pushing my way in, discovered several of the serving men discussing the tragedy in excited tones. As they turned at my entrance, I called to them to know who would volunteer to accompany us. At once a strongly built young fellow stepped forward, followed after a slight hesitation by two older men. Then, as we had sufficient for our purpose, I told them to get heavy sticks and bring lanterns.
As soon as they were ready, we sallied out: Will and I first, the others following and keeping well together. The night was not particularly dark—the snow seemed to lighten it. At the bottom of the High Street one of the men gave a short gasp and pointed ahead.
There, dimly seen, and stealing across the snow with silent strides, was a giant form draped in white. Signing to the men to keep quiet, we ran quickly forward, the snow muffling our footsteps. We neared it rapidly. Suddenly Will stumbled and fell forward on his face, one of his pistols going off with the shock.
Instantly the Thing ahead looked round, and next moment was bounding from us in great leaps. Will was on his feet in a second and, with a muttered curse at his own clumsiness, joined in the chase again. Through the park gates it went, and we followed hard. As we got nearer, I could plainly see the black headdress, and in the right hand there was a dark something: but what struck me the most was the enormous size of the thing; it was certainly quite as tall as the marble goddess.
On we went. We were within a hundred feet of it when it stopped dead and turned towards us, and never shall I forget the fear that chilled me, for there, from head to foot, perfect in every detail, stood the marble goddess. At the movement, we had brought up standing; but now I raised a pistol and fired. That seemed to break the spell, and like one man we leapt forward. As we did so, the thing circled like a flash and resumed its flight at a speed that bade fair to leave us behind in short time.
Then the thought came to me to head it off. This I did by sending the three men round to the right-hand side of the park lake, while Will and I continued the pursuit. A minute later the monster disappeared round a bend in the path: but this troubled me little, as I felt convinced that it would blunder right into the arms of the men, and they would turn it back, and then—ah! then this mystery and horror would be solved.
On we ran. A minute, perhaps, passed. All at once I heard a hoarse cry ahead, followed by a loud scream, which ceased suddenly. With fear plucking at my heart, I spurted forward, Will close behind. Round the corner we burst, and I saw the two men bending over something on the ground.
“Have you got it?” I shouted excitedly. The men turned quickly and, seeing me, beckoned hurriedly. A moment later I was with them and kneeling alongside a silent form. Alas! it was the brave young fellow who had been the first to volunteer. His neck seemed to be broken. Standing up, I turned to the men for an explanation.
“It was this way, sir; Johnson, that’s him,” nodding to the dead man, “he was smarter on his legs than we be, and he got ahead. Just before we reached him we heered him shout. We was close behind, and I don’t think it could ha’ been half a minute before we was up and found him.”
“Did you see anything—” I hesitated. I felt sick. Then I continued, “anything of That—you know what I mean?”
“Yes, sir; leastways my mate did. He saw it run across to those bushes an’—”
“Come on, Will,” I cried, without waiting to hear more; and throwing the light of our lanterns ahead of us, we burst into the shrubberies. Scarcely had we gone a dozen Paces when the light struck full upon a towering figure. There was a crash, and my lantern was smashed all to pieces. I was thrown to the ground, and something slid through the bushes. Springing to the edge, we were just in time to catch sight of it running in the direction of the lake. Simultaneously we raised our pistols and fired. As the smoke cleared away, I saw the Thing bound over the railings into the water. A faint splash was borne to our ears, and then—silence.
Hurriedly we ran to the spot, but could see nothing.
“Perhaps we hit it,” I ventured.
“You forget,” laughed Will hysterically, “marble won’t float.”
“Don’t talk rubbish,” I answered angrily. Yet I felt that I would have given something to know what it was really.
For some minutes we waited; then, as nothing came to view, we moved away towards the gate—the men going on ahead, carrying their dead comrade. Our way led past the little clearing where the statue stood. It was still dark when we reached it.
“Look, Herton, look!” Will’s voice rose to a shriek. I turned sharply. I had been lost momentarily in perplexing thought. Now, I saw that we were right opposite the place of the marble statue, and Will was shining the light of the lantern in its direction; but it showed me nothing save the pedestal, bare and smooth.
I glanced at Will. The lantern was shaking visibly in his grasp. Then I looked towards the pedestal again in a dazed manner. I stepped up to it and passed my hand slowly across the top. I felt very queer.
After that, I walked round it once or twice. No use! there was no mistake this time. My eyes showed me nothing save that vacant place where, but a few hours previously, had stood the massive marble.
Silently we left the spot. The men had preceded us with their sad burden. Fortunately, in the dim light, they had failed to notice the absence of the goddess.
Dawn was breaking as in mournful procession we entered the town. Already the news seemed to have spread, and quite a body of the town people escorted us to the hotel.
During the day a number of men went up to the park, armed with hammers, intending to destroy the statue, but returned later silent and awestruck, declaring that it had disappeared bodily, only the great altar remaining.
I was feeling unwell. The shock had thoroughly upset me, and a sense of helplessness assailed me.
About midnight, feeling worn out, I went to bed. It was late on the following morning when I awoke with a start. An idea had come to me, and rising, I dressed quickly and went downstairs. In the bar I found the landlord, and to him I applied for information as to where the library of the late Colonel Whigman had been removed.
He scratched his head a moment reflectively.
“I couldn’t rightly say, sir; but I know Mr. Jepson,
the town clerk, will be able to, and I daresay he wouldn’t mind telling you anything you might want to know.”
Having inquired where I was likely to meet this official, I set off, and in a short while found myself chatting to a pleasant, ruddy faced man of about forty.
“The late colonel’s library!” he said genially; “certainly, come this way, Sir Herton,” and he ushered me into a long room lined with books.
What I wanted was to find if the colonel had left among his library any diary or written record of his life in India. For a couple of hours I searched persistently. Then, just as I was giving up hope, I found it—a little green-backed book, filled with closely written and crabbed writing.
Opening it, I found staring me in the face, a rough pen-and-ink sketch of—the marble goddess.
The following pages I read eagerly. They told a strange story of how, while engaged in the work of exterminating Thugs, the colonel and his men had found a large idol of white marble, quite unlike any Indian Deity the colonel had ever seen.
After a full description—in which I recognized once more the statue in Bungalow Park—there was some reference to an exciting skirmish with the priests of the temple, in which the colonel had a narrow escape from death at the hands of the high priest, “who was a most enormous man and mad with fury.”
Finally, having obtained possession, they found among other things that the Deity of the temple was another—and, to Europeans, unknown—form of Kali, the Goddess of Death. The temple itself being a sort of Holy of Holies of Thugdom, where they carried on their brutal and disgusting rites.
After this, the diary went on to say that, loath to destroy the idol, the colonel brought it back with him to Calcutta, having first demolished the temple in which it had been found.
Later, he found occasion to ship it off to England. Shortly after this, his life was attempted, and his time of service being up, he came home.
Here it ended, and yet I was no nearer to the solution than I had been when first I opened the book.
The House on the Borderland and Other Mysterious Places Page 40