“Aha, my proud beauty,” quoth he, “I have ye in me power, and sooner or later I will break that will of thine! Meanwhile think of your poor old father and mother as turned out of hearth and home and wandering helpless through the meadows!”
“Oh, spare them, spare them!” said the maiden.
“Neverr . . . ha ha ha ha!” leered the brute.
And so the cruel days sped on, while all in ignorance young Jack Manly was seeking fame and fortune in the great city.[26]
Chapter IV.
Subtle Villainy[27]
One day as ’Squire Hardman sat in the front parlour of his expensive and palatial home, indulging in his favourite[28] pastime of gnashing his teeth and swishing his riding-crop, a great thought came to him; and he cursed aloud at the statue of Satan on the onyx mantelpiece.
“Fool that I am!” he cried. “Why did I ever waste all this trouble on the girl when I can get the farm by simply foreclosing? I never thought of that! I will let the girl go, take the farm, and be free to wed some fair city maid like the leading lady of that burlesque troupe which played last week at the Town Hall!”
And so he went down to the settlement, apologised to Ermengarde, let her go home, and went home himself to plot new crimes and invent new modes of villainy.
The days wore on, and the Stubbses grew very sad over the coming loss of their home and still but nobody seemed able to do anything about it. One day a party of hunters from the city chanced to stray over the old farm, and one of them found the gold!! Hiding his discovery from his companions, he feigned rattlesnake-bite and went to the Stubbs’ cottage for aid of the usual kind. Ermengarde opened the door and saw him. He also saw her, and in that moment resolved to win her and the gold. “For my old mother’s sake I must”—he cried loudly to himself.[29] “No sacrifice is too great!”[30]
Chapter V.
The City Chap[31]
Algernon Reginald Jones was a polished man of the world from the great city, and in his sophisticated hands our poor little Ermengarde was as a mere child. One could almost believe that sixteen-year-old[32] stuff. Algy was a fast worker, but never crude. He could have taught Hardman a thing or two about finesse in sheiking. Thus only a week after his advent to the Stubbs family circle, where he lurked like the vile serpent that he was, he had persuaded the heroine to elope! It was in the night that she went leaving a note for her parents, sniffing the familiar mash for the last time, and kissing the cat goodbye—touching stuff! On the train Algernon became sleepy and slumped down in his seat, allowing a paper to fall out of his pocket by accident. Ermengarde, taking advantage of her supposed position as a bride-elect, picked up the folded sheet and read its perfumed expanse—when lo! she almost fainted! It was a love letter from another woman!!
“Perfidious deceiver!” she whispered at the sleeping Algernon, “so this is all that your boasted fidelity amounts to! I am done with you for all eternity!”
So saying, she pushed him out the window and settled down for a much needed rest.[33]
Chapter VI.
Alone in the Great City[34]
When the noisy train pulled into the dark station at the city, poor helpless Ermengarde was all alone without the money to get back to Hogton. “Oh why,”[35] she sighed in innocent regret, “didn’t I take his pocketbook before I pushed him out? Oh[36] well, I should worry![37] He told me all about the city so I can easily earn enough to get home if not to pay off the mortgage!”
But alas for our little heroine—work is not easy for a greenhorn to secure, so for a week she was forced to sleep on park benches and obtain food from the bread-line. Once a wily and wicked person, perceiving her helplessness, offered her a position as dish-washer in a fashionable and depraved cabaret; but our heroine was true to her rustic ideals and refused to work in such a gilded and glittering palace of frivolity—especially since she was offered only $3.00[38] per week with meals but no board. She tried to look up Jack Manly, her one-time lover, but he was nowhere to be found. Perchance, too, he would not have known her; for in her poverty she had perforce become a brunette again, and Jack had not beheld her in that state since school days. One day she found a neat but costly purse in the park; and after seeing that there was not much in it, took it to the rich lady whose card proclaimed her ownership. Delighted beyond words at the honesty of this forlorn waif, the aristocratic Mrs. Van Itty adopted Ermengarde to replace the little one who had been stolen from her so many years ago. “How like my precious Maude,”[39] she sighed, as she watched the fair brunette return to blondeness. And so several weeks passed, with the old folks at home tearing their hair and the wicked ’Squire Hardman chuckling devilishly.[40]
Chapter VII.
Happy Ever Afterward[41]
One day the wealthy heiress Ermengarde S. Van Itty hired a new second assistant chauffeur. Struck by something familiar in his face, she looked again and gasped. Lo! it was none other than the perfidious Algernon Reginald Jones, whom she had pushed from a car window on that fateful day! He had survived—this much was almost immediately evident. Also, he had wed the other woman, who had run away with the milkman and all the money in the house. Now wholly humbled, he asked forgiveness of our heroine, and confided to her the whole tale of the gold on her father’s farm. Moved beyond words, she raised his salary a dollar a month and resolved to gratify at last that always unquenchable anxiety to relieve the worry of the old folks. So one bright day Ermengarde motored back to Hogton and arrived at the farm just as ’Squire Hardman was foreclosing the mortgage and ordering the old folks out.
“Stay, villain!” she cried, flashing a colossal roll of bills. “You are foiled at last![42] Here is your money—now go, and never darken our humble door again!”
Then followed a joyous reunion, whilst the ’Squire twisted his moustache and riding-crop in bafflement and dismay. But hark! What is this? Footsteps sound on the old gravel walk, and who should appear but our hero, Jack Manly—worn and seedy, but radiant of face. Seeking at once the downcast villain, he said:
“’Squire—lend me a ten-spot, will you? I have just come back from the city with my beauteous bride, the fair Bridget Goldstein, and need something to start things on the old farm.” Then turning to the Stubbses, he apologised for his inability to pay off the mortgage as agreed.[43]
“Don’t mention it,” said Ermengarde, “prosperity has come to us, and I will consider it sufficient payment if you will forget for ever[44] the foolish fancies of our childhood.”
All this time Mrs. Van Itty had been sitting in the motor waiting for Ermengarde; but as she lazily eyed the sharp-faced Hannah Stubbs a vague memory started from the back of her brain. Then it all came to her, and she shrieked accusingly at the agrestic matron.
“You—you—Hannah Smith—I know you now! Twenty-eight years ago you were my baby Maude’s nurse and stole her from the cradle!! Where, oh, where is my child?” Then a thought came as the lightning in a murky sky. “Ermengarde—you say she is your daughter. . . . She is mine! Fate has restored to me my old chee-ild[45]—my tiny Maudie!—Ermengarde—Maude—come to your mother’s loving arms!!!”[46]
But Ermengarde was doing some tall thinking. How could she get away with the sixteen-year-old[47] stuff if she had been stolen twenty-eight[48] years ago? And if she was not Stubbs’ daughter the gold would never be hers. Mrs. Van Itty was rich, but ’Squire Hardman was richer. So, approaching the dejected villain, she inflicted upon him the last terrible punishment.
“’Squire, dear,” she murmured, “I have reconsidered all. I love you and your naive strength. Marry me at once or I will have you prosecuted for that kidnapping last year. Foreclose your mortgage and enjoy with me the gold your cleverness discovered. Come, dear!” And the poor dub did.
THE END.[49]
Notes
Editor’s Note: This story has been placed here for want of a better place: its exact date of writing has not been determined, and all that can be said is that it must have been written after the onset of Prohibition (
July 1919). The original A.Ms. survives and served as the basis of the first publication, in Beyond the Wall of Sleep (1943). This appearance diverged in some particulars from the A.Ms., although the latter contains some irregularities in typographical matters (e.g., quotation marks) that need correction in any authoritative text.
Texts: A = A.Ms. (JHL); B = Beyond the Wall of Sleep (Arkham House, 1943), 349–53. Copy-text: A.
1. Chapter I. / A . . . Maid] I. A . . . MAID B
2. 18th] Eighteenth B
3. ethyl] Ethyl B
4. C2H5OH.] C2H8OH. B
5. sixteen] 16 A
6. thirty.] 30. A
7. 5ft 5.33…in] five feet 5.33 inches B
8. 115.47 lbs.] 115.57 pounds B
9. GOLD!!] gold!! B [A has double underscore]
10. “Aha!”] “Aha!”, A
11. life,”] life”, A
12. speak! Ermengarde,] speak!” “Ermengarde, A
13. ideal [. . .], life] ideal, [. . .] life A; ideal,” (. . .) “life B
14. Beloved] “Beloved A
15. connexion] connection B
16. me] my B
17. [Curtain] ] [curtain] A; (Curtain) B
18. Chapter II. / And . . . Her] II. AND . . . HER B
19. mule,] ale, B
20. still [. . .] and] still” (. . .) “and B
21. ’Squire] squire A, B
22. sweet roll!”] sweetest!” B
23. [Curtain] ] [curtain] A; (Curtain) B
24. Chapter III. / A . . . Act] III. A . . . ACT B
25. Stubbs] Stubbs’ B
26. city.] city. / (Curtain) B
27. Chapter IV. / Subtle Villainy] IV. SUBTLE VILLAINY B
28. favourite] favorite B
29. himself.] himself, A
30. great!”] great!” / (Curtain) B
31. Chapter V. / The City Chap] V. THE CITY CHAP B
32. sixteen-year-old] 16-year-old A
33. rest.] rest. / (Curtain) B
34. Chapter VI. / Alone . . . City] VI. ALONE . . . CITY B
35. “Oh why,”] “Oh why”, A; “Oh, why,” B
36. out? Oh] out?” “Oh A; out?” “Oh, B
37. worry!] worry!” A
38. $3.00] three dollars B
39. Maude,”] Maude”, A
40. devilishly.] devilishly. / (Curtain) B
41. Chapter VII. / Happy . . . Afterward] VII. HAPPY . . . AFTERWARD B
42. last!] last!” A
43. agreed. ¶] agreed. A
44. for ever] forever A, B
45. chee-ild] che-ild B
46. arms!!!”] arms!!! A, B
47. sixteen-year-old] 16-year-old A
48. twenty-eight] 28 A
49. THE END.] (Curtain) B
The Nameless City
When I drew nigh the nameless city I knew it was accursed. I was travelling[1] in a parched and terrible valley under the moon, and afar I saw it protruding uncannily above the sands as parts of a corpse may protrude from an ill-made grave. Fear spoke from the age-worn stones of this hoary survivor of the deluge, this great-grandmother of the eldest pyramid; and a viewless aura repelled me and bade me retreat from antique and sinister secrets that no man should see, and no man else had ever dared to see.
Remote in the desert of Araby lies the nameless city, crumbling and inarticulate, its low walls nearly hidden by the sands of uncounted ages. It must have been thus before the first stones of Memphis were laid, and while the bricks of Babylon were yet unbaked. There is no legend so old as to give it a name, or to recall that it was ever alive; but it is told of in whispers around campfires and muttered about by grandams[2] in the tents of sheiks,[3] so that all the tribes shun it without wholly knowing why. It was of this place that Abdul Alhazred the mad poet dreamed on the night before he sang his unexplainable couplet:
“That is not dead which can eternal[4] lie,
And with strange aeons even[5] death may die.”[6]
I should have known that the Arabs had good reason for shunning the nameless city, the city told of in strange tales but seen by no living man, yet I defied them and went into the untrodden waste with my camel. I alone have seen it, and that is why no other face bears such hideous lines of fear as mine; why no other man shivers so horribly when the night-wind[7] rattles the windows. When I came upon it in the ghastly stillness of unending sleep it looked at me, chilly from the rays of a cold moon amidst the desert’s heat. And as I returned its look I forgot my triumph at finding it, and stopped still with my camel to wait for the dawn.
For hours I waited, till the east grew grey and the stars faded, and the grey turned to roseal[8] light edged with gold. I heard a moaning and saw a storm of sand stirring among the antique stones though the sky was clear and the vast reaches of the[9] desert still. Then suddenly above the desert’s far rim came the blazing edge of the sun, seen through the tiny sandstorm which was passing away, and in my fevered state I fancied that from some remote depth there came a crash of musical metal to hail the fiery disc as Memnon hails it from the banks of the Nile. My ears rang and my imagination seethed as I led[10] my camel slowly across the sand to that unvocal stone place; that place too old for Egypt and Meroë[11] to remember;[12] that place[13] which I alone of living men had seen.
In and out amongst the shapeless foundations of houses and palaces[14] I wandered, finding never a carving or inscription to tell of those[15] men, if men they were, who built the[16] city and dwelt therein so long ago. The antiquity of the spot was unwholesome, and I longed to encounter some sign or device to prove that the city was indeed fashioned by mankind. There were certain proportions and dimensions in the ruins which I did not like. I had with me many tools, and dug much within the walls of the obliterated edifices; but progress was slow, and nothing significant was revealed. When night and the moon returned I felt a chill wind which brought new fear, so that I did not dare to remain in the city. And as I went outside the antique walls to sleep, a small sighing sandstorm gathered behind me, blowing over the grey stones though the moon was bright and most of the desert still.
I awaked just at dawn from a pageant of horrible dreams, my ears ringing as from some metallic peal. I saw the sun peering redly through the last gusts of a little sandstorm that hovered over the nameless city, and marked the quietness of the rest of the landscape. Once more I ventured within those brooding ruins that swelled beneath the sand like an ogre under a coverlet, and again dug vainly for relics of the forgotten race. At noon I rested, and in the afternoon I spent much time tracing the walls, and the[17] bygone streets, and the outlines of the nearly vanished buildings. I saw that the city had been mighty indeed, and wondered at the sources of its greatness. To myself I pictured all the splendours of an age so distant that Chaldaea[18] could not recall it, and thought of Sarnath the Doomed, that stood in the land of Mnar when mankind was young, and of Ib, that was carven of grey[19] stone before mankind existed.
All at once I came upon a place where the bed-rock[20] rose stark through the sand and formed a low cliff; and here I saw with joy what seemed to promise further traces of the antediluvian people. Hewn rudely on the face of the cliff were the unmistakable facades[21] of several small, squat rock houses or temples; whose interiors might preserve many secrets of ages too remote for calculation, though sandstorms had long since effaced any carvings which may have been outside.
Very low and sand-choked were all of [22] the dark apertures near me, but I cleared one with my spade and crawled through it, carrying a torch to reveal whatever[23] mysteries it might hold. When I was inside I saw that the cavern was indeed a temple, and beheld plain signs of the race that had lived and worshipped before the desert was a desert. Primitive altars, pillars, and niches, all curiously low, were not absent; and though I saw no sculptures nor[24] frescoes, there were many singular stones clearly shaped into symbols by artificial means. The lowness of the chiselled[25] chamber was very strange, for I could hardly more than[26] kneel upright; but the area was so great
that my torch shewed[27] only part[28] at a time. I shuddered oddly in some of the far corners; for certain altars and stones suggested forgotten rites of terrible, revolting, and inexplicable nature,[29] and made me wonder what manner of men could have made and frequented such a temple. When I had seen all that the place contained, I crawled out again, avid to find what the other[30] temples might yield.
Night had now approached, yet the tangible things I had seen made curiosity stronger than fear, so that I did not flee from the long moon-cast shadows that had daunted me when first I saw the nameless city. In the twilight I cleared another aperture and with a new torch crawled into it, finding more vague stones and symbols, though nothing more definite than the other temple had contained. The room was just as low, but much less broad, ending in a very narrow passage crowded with obscure and cryptical shrines. About these shrines I was prying when the noise of a wind and of[31] my camel outside broke through the stillness and drew me forth to see what could have frightened the beast.
The moon was gleaming vividly over the primeval[32] ruins, lighting a dense cloud of sand that seemed blown by a strong but decreasing wind from some point along the cliff ahead of me. I knew it was this chilly, sandy wind which had disturbed the camel,[33] and was about to lead him to a place of better shelter when I chanced to glance up and saw that there was no wind atop the cliff. This astonished me and made me fearful again, but I immediately recalled the sudden local winds[34] I had seen and heard before at sunrise and sunset, and judged it was a normal thing. I decided that[35] it came from some rock fissure leading to a cave, and watched the troubled sand to trace it to its source; soon perceiving[36] that it came from the black orifice of a temple a long distance south of me, almost out of sight. Against the choking sand-cloud I plodded toward this temple, which as I neared it loomed larger than the rest, and shewed a doorway far less clogged with caked sand.[37] I would have entered had not the terrific force of the icy wind almost quenched my torch. It poured madly out of the dark door, sighing uncannily as it ruffled the sand and spread about[38] the weird ruins. Soon it grew fainter and the sand grew more and more still, till finally all was at rest again; but a presence seemed stalking among the spectral stones of the city, and when I glanced at the moon it seemed to quiver as though mirrored in unquiet waters. I was more afraid than I could explain, but not enough to dull my thirst for wonder; so as soon as the wind was quite gone I crossed into the dark chamber from which it had come.
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