CLIFF
T HE SEASON IS SPRING. ATOP A cliff, about a mile from K——Spa, two persons are sitting on a rock. Far below them in the valley can faintly be heard the babbling water of a river. The man is in his mid-twenties, the girl slightly older. Both are wearing the padded outer kimono of a hot-spring hotel.
GIRL: Isn't it odd that in all this time we've never discussed those incidents that keep preying on our minds so. Sometimes I think I'll suffocate if I don't discuss them. Since we have so much free time today, let's talk about those things of the past a little. You won't mind, will you, darling?
MAN: Of course not, my dear. You go ahead, and I'll add my comments from time to time.
GIRL: Well, let's see. . . . To begin at the beginning, there was that night when I was lying in bed, side by side with Saito. He was weeping as usual, with his face pressed against mine, and his tears kept trickling into my mouth—
MAN: Don't be so explicit! I don't want to hear the details of your intimacies with your first husband.
GIRL: But this is an important part of the story, because that was when I first had a clear insight into his plans. But all right—for your sake I'll omit the details. . . . So, it was just as I tasted the salt of his tears that I suddenly told myself something was queer. The way he was crying that night was far more intense than usual, as if he had some hidden reason. Startled, I drew back and looked into his tear-stained eyes.
MAN: That must have made your blood run cold—to have your married happiness suddenly turn into fear. I remember your telling me that he seemed to have pity in his eyes as he returned your look.
GIRL: Yes, his eyes spoke eloquently of the pity he felt for me. I believe a man's innermost secrets can be read in his eyes. And on this occasion certainly, Saito's eyes were so eloquent that I perceived his thoughts instantly.
MAN: He was planning to kill you, wasn't he?
GIRL: Yes. But, of course, the whole thing was only a sort of game for him. In many ways he was a sadist, as you know, and I was just the opposite. I'm sure that's why he wanted to play the game. There's no denying that we loved each other, but we both incessantly craved for more excitement.
MAN: I know, I know! You needn't say any more.
GIRL: That night was the first time I felt I could plainly read his mind. Vague suspicions had disturbed me for some time, but now real fear gripped my heart. I shuddered to think he would go to such lengths. But I was thrilled in spite of my fears.
MAN: That look of pity you saw in his eyes—that was part of the game too, wasn't it? He wanted you to be frightened, and this was his way of hinting at what was in store for you. And then—
GIRL: Then there was the man in the blue overcoat.
MAN: Yes, with a blue felt hat, dark glasses, and a thick mustache.
GIRL : You had seen him before, hadn't you?
MAN: Yes, there I was, a striving painter boarding at your house, playing the role of a clown in the midst of your and your husbands affairs. It was one day while I was out roaming the streets that the man first attracted my attention. And when I asked the owner of the teahouse on the corner, she told me the stranger had been asking a lot of questions about your house.
GIRL: It was after you brought me this news that I happened to see him myself. The first time was outside my kitchen, and twice more near the front gate. Each time he was standing like a shadow, dressed in his baggy overcoat, both his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
MAN: I thought he was a sneak thief at first, and several servants in the neighborhood also warned me about him.
GIRL: But he turned out to be much worse, a far more dangerous character than a mere sneak thief, didn't he? Somehow, that dreadful night, his sinister form leapt to my mind the instant I gazed into my husband's tear-stained eyes.
MAN: And then you had a third hint of his plans, didn't you?
GIRL: Yes, those detective stories you started bringing us. We'd read detective stories before, of course, but you really aroused our interest in the art of crime. It all started a few months before we saw the mysterious stranger, and almost every night we used to discuss nothing but various successful crimes. Saito, my husband, of course, was the most enthusiastic of all, as you may recall.
MAN: Yes, that was about the time he thought up the best plot of them all.
GIRL : You mean that trick of dual personality. There certainly were a lot of different ways of creating a dual personality, weren't there? I remember that long list you made up.
MAN: Thirty-three different ways, if I remember correctly.
GIRL: But Saito was most impressed with the possibility of creating an utterly nonexistent character.
MAN: The theory was a simple one. For example, if a man decided to commit a murder, he would first create an imaginary character far in advance of the crime. This character would be his double. His description would be simple, with, say, a false mustache, dark glasses, and conspicuous clothing. Then he would have this double of his establish a residence far removed from his real domicile, and he would proceed to live two lives. While the real character would supposedly be away at work, the double would be at his home, and vice versa. Matters would be even more simple in the event one of the two characters went away on a long trip. With the stage thus set, the murder could be committed at an opportune time, but immediately before the crime the imaginary character would make himself very obvious to several witnesses. And then, following the crime, he would vanish completely from the face of the earth. Beforehand, of course, he would have destroyed all incriminating evidence, such as his disguise. As a result, he would be permanently missing from his home, while the real character would merely resume his former way of life. Naturally, as the crime was committed by a nonexistent character it would be a perfect crime.
GIRL: Saito kept talking about this until I thought he was going crazy. All this I recalled as I stared into his eyes. But there was one more clue to his hidden thoughts. It was that diary, which he had "hidden" for the express purpose of having me find it. But the diary was planted for me to read, so of course it didn't mention his real secrets. For example, there was not a word about his mistress.
MAN: It was like crossing out lines in a letter to make sure they'd be read.
GIRL : I read the diary from cover to cover. Several pages were devoted to the dual-personality idea. I was quite struck by his ingenious ideas. And I must say he was a wizard with the pen.
MAN : Go on.
GIRL: Well, those were the three clues I had. First, the look in his eyes; next, the man in the blue overcoat; and finally, the diary describing the dual-personality trick. But somehow I had the feeling that the picture was incomplete. There seemed to be no motive. You supplied this when you told me about his mistress. After that I could never look into his eyes without seeing there the reflection of some beautiful girl I imagined his mistress to be. At times I even thought I could smell her perfume on him.
MAN: In other words, these four clues convinced you that he was planning to kill you so he could get the fortune you inherited from your father, and then live with his mistress.
GIRL: Yes, but at the same time I knew he was only playing a game to frighten me.
MAN: Yes, maybe that's what you thought, but his motive was real enough. His plan was to steal into your bedroom in disguise, kill you, and vanish. Later the real Saito would return, "discover" your murder, and play the delicate role of the grief-stricken husband.
GIRL: Yes, but as I said before, it was only part of the same game to frighten me, and to enjoy the thrill of suspense. You can imagine what a horrible game it was! That was the thrill he was aiming for. It's surprising how all these details came to my mind with full clarity in the split second I stared into his eyes.
MAN: But where was Saito supposed to draw the line? What was the actual purpose of his disguise as the man in the blue overcoat?
GIRL: I think he really intended to steal into my bedroom in his disguise and frighten me out of my wits. Then, afte
r enjoying my hysterics, he would burst out laughing.
MAN: But that isn't the way it turned out, is it?
GIRL: It certainly wasn't! Until then, everything had been more or less a joke. But what happened next nearly froze the blood in my veins. I shudder even to think about it.
MAN: No more than I do. But go on—get it off your chest now that there's nobody to hear us.
GIRL: All right. . . . Several more times he went into weeping hysterics in bed, and gradually I began to realize that I couldn't fathom the look in his eyes any longer. In fact, I no longer knew if he was playing a game, or. . .
MAN: You—you began to suspect that he was really planning to kill you, didn't you?
GIRL: Yes. Now his glassy, staring eyes seemed to be saying: "At first, I created an imaginary character to give you a wonderful thrill. But now, having played the game this far, I'm becoming confused. How simple it would be really to kill you, and yet remain utterly unsuspected. Besides, you have a large fortune . . . which would become mine. What a temptation! For really, you know, I love someone else far more than you. But I do pity you, really I do." In those tormenting nights my fears grew stronger and stronger. And it was about this time, with my thoughts in a turmoil as we grappled and tangled in the dark of the bedroom, that I began again to taste his salty tears trickling into my mouth.
MAN: That's when you came to talk to me.
GIRL: Yes, but you said I was hysterical and tried to laugh my fears away. But, in spite of your laughter, I saw a hidden shadow in your eyes, and I began to suspect that you had the same fears as I.
MAN: You may have thought so, but that wasn't the case at all. You've always had the piercing eyes of a mind reader, haven't you? Not many people have your power of reading even the subconscious mind.
GIRL: After that I was always afraid to look into his eyes. And even more I feared that he might be able to read my eyes. Gradually the thought of his pistol began to prey on my mind. . . . One evening I saw the man in the blue overcoat outside the gate again. It was almost dark, but I thought I could see him leering at me. A cold shiver ran down my spine. And that instant I again remembered the pistol—the one hidden in the drawer of Saito's desk.
MAN: I also knew about that pistol. He knew it was against the law to keep firearms, but he kept it anyway, fully loaded, and hid it in one of his desk drawers— merely for the sake of having it, I thought.
GIRL: It suddenly struck me that the man in the blue overcoat might have that pistol in his pocket. I went immediately to Saito's desk and examined the drawer. But the pistol was there, and I felt immensely relieved. Then I had another thought. I said to myself: "Surely if the man is Saito in disguise, he wouldn't be such a fool as to use his own pistol. This means he must be planning to use a different weapon." And thus my fears kept growing all the more.
MAN : So you decided to take that pistol for your own protection.
GIRL: Yes, I took it out of the desk and kept it with me all the time. At night I even slept with it.
MAN: The existence of that pistol was unfortunate. Because if it had not existed. . .
GIRL: That's when I asked you what would happen to me if a man stole into my bedroom at night and I shot him, even if he hadn't been planning any crime. Remember?
MAN: Yes, and if I remember correctly I told you this would constitute self-defense and would not be considered a crime. Later on I was sorry I'd told you this.
GIRL: And then, sure enough, he finally came. It was past midnight. He climbed over the fence and stole into the house through the kitchen window. The first thing I knew, I saw my bedroom door opening slowly, and then I saw him. It was him, all right. He wore the same blue overcoat. His felt hat was pulled low, and his dark glasses covered his eyes—and that awful mustache! Now was the time! I pretended to be asleep, but stole a glance at him—and gripped the pistol. . . .
MAN: And then?
GIRL: I could almost hear my heart beating. I wanted —oh, how I wanted—to pull the trigger, but I waited. He was standing there in the doorway, both hands in his pockets. Somehow I felt that he knew I was only pretending to be asleep. For what seemed like an hour we both watched each other. I wanted to scream, to leap out of bed and flee, but I gritted my teeth and held myself in check.
MAN: And then?
GIRL: Suddenly he began to move toward my bed. I peeped out from under the bedclothes and saw his face looming beside the night lamp. He was cleverly disguised, but I could see that he was definitely Saito. His eyes behind the dark glasses seemed to be smiling. Gradually, his face came closer and closer. . . . I couldn't see the knife in his hand, but there was no mistaking that he meant to kill me. I turned the pistol slowly under the covers and aimed at his heart. Then I pulled the trigger. . . . That's what brought you and the maid running in, but by that time I had fainted.
MAN : As soon as I saw the dead man, I knew what had happened. The knife was lying beside him.
GIRL : So the police came, and a few days later you and I were summoned to the procurators office. I told the whole story from beginning to end, with you as a witness, and they soon released me. It was the knife you'd found on the floor that proved I had killed Saito in self-defense. . . . After that I had a nervous breakdown and spent a month in bed. How I appreciated the way you came to see me every day, taking the place of the friends and relatives I didn't have. . . . You even took care of that matter of Saito's mistress for me. . . .
MAN: And now, just imagine, a year has already passed. And we've already been married for over five months. . . . Well, let's get back to the inn.
GIRL: No. There's more to talk about.
MAN: Really? What else is there to say? Haven't we already covered the ground completely?
GIRL: Yes, but so far we've only touched the surface of things.
MAN: The surface of things? It seems to me that we've analyzed the matter quite thoroughly.
GIRL: But you forget, my dear, that behind one curtain there's always another. . . .
MAN: For the life of me I don't know what you mean. You're acting strangely today.
GIRL: You're afraid, aren't you?
The man's face twitches, but his eyes remain expressionless. As for the girl, her eyes gleam, and her lips stretch into a malicious smile.
GIRL: If it were possible for a man to force another to commit a serious crime merely by the power of suggestion, what great satisfaction he must derive. . . . Using an unsuspecting puppet to carry out his designs, he would be utterly safe from discovery. This, I think, is the perfect crime we never discussed.
MAN: What—what the devil do you mean?
GIRL: I'm only trying to tell you what kind of a man you really are!. . . But don't be alarmed. I have no intention of going screaming to the police. I'm quite an understanding woman, you know. Come now, let's not mince words.
MAN: Listen, it's getting late—
GIRL: See? I told you—you're afraid of me! But I simply hate to leave a story unfinished. . .so please let me continue. . . . To you, Saito was an ideal puppet. First, you awakened his interest in detective stories. Then you convinced him that the trick of the dual personality was foolproof. And, bit by bit, by the power of suggestion, you led him deeper and deeper into the pit of crime. . . . The fact that Saito had a mistress was a mere accident, but you used this too.
MAN: You're crazy ... It's easy to put two and two together to fit any pattern. . . .
GIRL: But think back. You know only too well that it was always you—and you alone—who made one event lead to the next—until I finally killed Saito. It was all your doing—by the sheer power of your suggestions— and you know it!
MAN: But you've forgotten one thing. You might not have killed Saito!
GIRL: In that case you would quickly have adopted some other strategy. Of all the kinds of criminals, you're the most cunning, for your strategy was based on probabilities. If one plan went wrong, you would quickly have thought up another. . .and another. . . . One of them was sure t
o succeed—and without your ever being suspected. Yes, you did indeed commit the perfect crime.
MAN: You're beginning to annoy me. You've made up your story out of whole cloth, and it's sheer nonsense. I'm going back to the inn.
GIRL: Look at you! Your face is covered with sweat. Don't tell me you're not feeling sick! But you'll have to hear me out. When I pulled the trigger of that pistol, I didn't see Saito holding any knife. I was only guessing that he was trying to kill me—so I killed him. . . . But I had another reason too. I loved you, and you knew it. . . . I didn't see the knife until after I'd recovered from the fainting spell—and there it lay beside Saito's body. Now, you were the first one to arrive on the scene after I killed Saito, and how utterly simple it would have been for you to put Saito's fingerprints on the knife and plant it beside his body. You thus not only got rid of Saito, but also provided evidence for my plea of self-defense.
MAN: Your powers of imagination are truly amusing. Ha, ha.
GIRL : You can't fool me with your laughter. Look, you're trembling! You needn't, you know. I'm not going to tell anyone. How could I betray you after you've gone to such great pains to get me? I only wanted to talk this over with you—just once. . . . I won't tell anyone, never fear.
The man rises silently from the bench, and the look he gives the girl eloquently states that he will have nothing more to do with a lunatic. The girl also gets to her feet, and ignoring the man, who stands still, she begins to walk slowly away toward the edge of the precipice. A moment later the man follows her.
Reaching a point only two feet away from the edge of the cliff, she stops. Far. far below, the faint sound of the flowing river rises above the mist that covers the chasm.
Without even turning her head, the girl continues to speak to the man behind her.
GIRL: We've certainly bared our innermost thoughts today, haven't we? But there's one more thing I must tell you. I loved you only for yourself, but you loved my money as well as myself. And now, it's only my money you want. I know this. And you know I know it. Isn't it so? That's why you brought me to this lonely spot today. . . . Just like Saito, you can't live without my money, so you've begun to wish I'd have an accident. If something happened to me, of course, you would inherit all my money, because you are my husband. . . . I even happen to know that you too have a mistress— and that you hate me for being in the way.
Japanese Tales of Mystery & Imagination Page 8