The Walled in Room. Being the Terrible Adventure of an Irish Naturalist.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 236, 7 January 1888, Page 3

The Walled in Room. Being the Terrible Adventure of an Irish Naturalist.

I opened my eyes and looked around mo. A man was leaning over^ my bed ; near the man stood a woman in a bonnet with great white wings on the sides, holding in her hand a moist compress. The room was plain and neat, with clean white walls. On a table, covered with a great napkin of yellow linen, I noted a number of strange objects — rows of little vials and a brown earthern jar filled with hits of ice. Through the muslin curtain, which bellied out, from the window in the balmy air, I could see a patch of blue sky and the tops of green trees bending lightly in the breeze. Where was I ? It seemed like a long dream that I had had ; my head felt empty, my limbs ached, and I could not think. The man gently lifted my head and gave me a fow drops of some liquid, which I swallowed with advidity. " Well, Mr Furnise," he said, " how do you feel r " Eh, what?" I cried. " Where am I?" " You are in my house, my dear sir, and we shall take good care of you. " Now," he added, replacing my head on the pillow, 14 be quiet and go to sleep." I gazed at him for a long time, and all at once I recognised Doctor Bertram, vthe celebrated specialist in insanity. A shudder passod through my frame. Why was I in Dr. Bertram's hospital, instead of in my home near Phoenix Park, with my books, my herbs, and my microscopes around me ? His hospital was for mad people !— and that sister of charity, those vials, that bowl of ice— my God, I must be mad ! But why ? — how 1 " How long have I been here ?" I asked, after a' time. " For four weeks, Mr Furniss. But you must be quiet and sleep. How you do try to talk." ' • For a month ! Was it possible ? What had happened ? But even as I asked myself these questions, little by little I went off to eleep, and I saw, in a billowy meadow, a road covered with blood and bordered on either side with monstrous microscopes, shaped like troes, a road on which two little girls played at pitch and catch with a severed head, while Dr. Bertram, comically bonneted with a religious cap, rode astride of a dead body, which reared, and pranced, and kicked till he could scarce keep his seat. The next morning I was better ; and day by day I improved, though that horrible nightmare oanrs to me tech night. But it grew less and less distinct, and in a few weeks it almost ceased to trouble me. One evening the doctor, whom I had not seen during the day, seated himself near my bed. a Well," said he, feeling my pulse, " you are doing famously. I'll have you out, as good as new, in a few days. But you've had a close shave. It has been one of the prettiest cases of cerebral congestion I ever handled— a beautiful case. Why, it's- a wonder you are alive now. Tell me, how is your memory ; can you remember what happened before you were brought here ?" "I -I don't know. I cannot think. I have passed through something fearful. What it is I cannot say. From the faint glimmer of recollection that comes to me, I have the sensation of having \feen dead — murdered ! Oh, it is frightful. My brain is weak yet. Then, the child, a pretty golden-haired child— rolling on the floor." " Come, come, this will never do," said the doctor. " You can tell me all about it in the morn " "No, novr doctor," I cried. "Ib is coming back to me. Yes, I have it now. " Hero is an exact transcript of my recital as I told it to Dr. Bertram, and, later, to the magistrate. You know ray passion for natural history. Well, scarcely a week passes that I do not go out into the country botanising. That day I went to Glacnovin, where, aa you know, the marshy meadows are rich in curious plants, infusoria and diatoms. I was returning, and was almost in Dublin with my box full of rare specimens, on which I expected to make a report that would astonish the Botanical Society, when I saw a little girl, certainly not more than five or six years old, who was all alone, crying as if her little heart would break. I approached her, but at sight of me she redoubled her cies. I could see that the little one was lost, and she did not know where to go, so I spoke to her kindly, and, by dint of promising her unlimited bonbons, got her to tell me her name was Lizzie, and that she lived near Beresford-place, in Lower Abbey street. I took her hand, and we soon started off, talking together like old friends. She was a beautiful child, fresh and ro3y, with great candid eyes, and fair hair, which was cut short over her eyes, and fell in golden ringlets about her shoulders. She trotted bravely along, her soft little hand holding my great ruddy Daw confidingly. As we walked she told, me remarkable tales, in which figured a big black horse, a little knife, a doll, and a number of people I did not know. Lizzie v.i* afraid she would be scolded when she go., uome, but she was nob, and I—lI — I wa3 received with transports by her mother, who was half distracted. Never was gratitude expressed so heartily and pleasantly. Who was I? Where did I live ? How did I happen to find her, and a thousand like questions were showered upon me. "Oh,- Mr Furniss,' 1 said the mother, " you are the saviour of my child. How can we express our gratitude? We are not rich, but such a debt cannot, be paid in gold. How happy my husband will be to repeat ray thanks to you. He is still at his office, but — will you do us a great kindness, will you honour our humble table to-morrow ? I shall have a savant here like yourself, and you two will enjoy each other's company, I am sure. And my husband will be so happy to have you." I thanked her for the invitation, and promised to be there. At the appointed hour I was shown into their modest parlour, and you may be sure the husband's gratitude was no less warmly expressed than the wife's. . And little Lizzie threw hex arms around my neck, and showered on me the innocent oaressss of a happy child. I seemed, indeed, to be one of the family. The dinner was a merry one, the sftvanfc seemed .to be an interesting man — in brief I passed an excellent evening. ; . ' The air had been heavy the whole day,, and in the evening a storm' came on. Thunder-claps succeeded one another without interruption, the rain fell in torrents. Whether ib was the effect of tKe'etQgnyof the suffocating heat, or of .the wine, I had drunk, I felt a efcrang© melancholy, T, could not breathe comfortably. I was about,,to set out for, home, however, for jit w.*s late and my house was at some, distance ; bub they insisted that^~ should .-nob' expose.; myself to such* tempest;, when j^was nojb feeling #eft, Thejjnofchefe boggedm&j^tK such a good g:race,thatlfeltforce<l ; tor.eoiftin AM paw the mgblinAh^fefiospi^bl^HQU^,, They ceremoniously conducted- me ; to :my> roona, and there wished me good ,night. f I remember, even, that Lizzie 'having if alien asleep ia her father's < arms," I ki««ed her little cheek, paledbyeleep, and lieu din^pledi litfctaarmj. - \,. iA ■ /,'-,_ ?-; •» r'. ". ' "Wtta - Left 'alone, I began to utidtesi'iliyfrlf, 1 and wandered about the room as T oh©

always doa» when one' sleeps jm,a' strange ,place. I felt as "if I slioujd smother in the close atmosphere of £Re ""room.* Before getting into bed, I wanted to inhale a little of the outside air ; and, in spite of the roaring atorm, I tried to open tne window. It was a raise window. "Well, well 1" I exclaimed, a libfcle surprised. I thought I would remove the chnnneyscreen j it was a false ohimneyv I rushed to the door — it was locked. Fear seized me, and, holding my breath, I listened. The house was quiet, all Beemed to be asleep. Then I inspected the room carefully, straining my ears for the least sound On the floor near the bed, I noticed spots ; it was blood— dried and blackened blood I I shuddered and a cold sweat stood out on my forehead. Blood ! Why should there be blood there ? And I saw that a whole sea of blood mnst have been spilt therefor a great space around, the hard wooden floor had been freshly scrubbed and scraped. All at once I cried out. Under the bed I had scon a man, stretched out, motionless as an overturned statue. I could not cry or call out. With trembling hands I touched the man. He did not move. With trembling hands I pushed the man ; he did nob move. With trembling hands I seized the man by the feet and drow him forth — he was dead ! His neck had been cleanly cut, as with one stroke of a razor, and the head held to the trunk only by a slender ligament. I thought I should go umu. But something must be done -the assassin might come at any moment. I raised the body to place it on the bed. I made a false step, and the livid head turned over, swung to and fro for a moment like a hideous pendulum, and then, detached from the trunk, fell on the floor with a dull sound. With great difficulty I introduced the decapitated trunk "between the sheets, I picked up tho head, and placed it on the pillow like that of a sleeping man, and, having blown out the candle, I slipped under the bed. I did all this mechanically, without thought of defence or safety ; ib was instinct that prompted me, not intelligenceor reflection. My teeth cluttered. My hands were wet with a thick moisture. I felt as if I had gone to bed in a charnel-house. I remained there, in that awful fear, minutes, hours, months, years, centuries — Ido not know how long. 1 lost all idea of time and place. All was silent, From without, the noise of tho storm and the whistling of the wind came to me softened and sad, like moans. I could not picture to myself the assassin who was coming — who was there perhaps. In that state of horror, I could see only little Lizzie, fair, rosy, and frank, with her doll and her great hat ; I could see her sleeping in her father's arms ; now and then she lightly raised her eyelids and disclosed her eyes, which seemsd to me to be bold, implacable, cruel, murderous. The door opened, but as softly as the scratching of a mouse. I bib my lips till the blood came, to keep from crying out, Now a man stepped in with gliding tread, with infinite precautions to avoid touching the furniture. It seemed to me as if I could see the cruel, clutchiug fingers gliding over 'my clothes, searching my pockets. Thon the steps came nearer, seemed to graze me. I felt that the man was bending over the bed, that he struck one fierce blow. Then I knew nothing more. When I recovered consciousness, the room had become silent again. Bub fright held me nailed to the spot. At length I decided to escape, with what caution you may imagine. On tiptoe I gained the door, which had not closed. Not a sound, not a breath. Feeling my way, I passed into the hall. I waited to see a head thrust suddenly from out the shadows, a knife gleam in the dark. But no j the brut©, glutted with crime, slept without remorse. I descended tho stairs, drew the bolt of the door, and, half fainting, with the blood frozen in my veins, I fell into the* gutter of the deserted street. Dr. Bertram had listened to my recital with the deepest interest. II And there I found you, Mr Furniss, and in what a state ! Could you lecognise the house ?" " Yes," I replied ; "but to what end ?" " Well let me cure you, and then we shall go together to the hotfse of these assassins." Eight days later, the doctor and I stood in Lower Abbey-street. I recognised fchc terrible house. All the blinds were drawn ; in front of the door a placard was placed, bearing the legend :' " To be Let." I inquired of the former residents from a neighbour. ♦♦They have been gone a month and more," she replied. " It's a great pity, for they were very nice people." — From the French of Octave Mirabeau.