THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 344, 21 March 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

THE POWER OF HATE. "I believe you, my boy," saiil Gregson, flicking the ash from his cigar; "no doubt, to some men, the killing of their iellow creatures ait'ords exquisite delight and a profitable exercise of their inventive faculties." The whisky I was about to place to my lip was set down again uutasted; 1 had 110 idea that my clianc.; remarks would call forth such an astounding comment. "Perhaps you think my opinion somewhat strange," continued my friend; "but you yourself have read all about the Inquisition, and others whose soie delight apparently consisted in devising new methods of torture and watching them carried out. I myself actually knew one man, and him 1 have to thank for the fact that my health and nerves are shattered." 1 sat up m my chair, alive with interest. At last I was to solve the mystery that had pervaded Harry Gregson, to the complete mystification of his iriends, for so many years. "Spin it out, old chap; I am all attention,said I. "Well, I have never breathed a word of this story before," replied he, "but that was chiefly for my wife's sake. You remember who she was?" I nodded. "Yes. She was the ward of Professor Batson, the celebrated inventor, who was killed by his own invention." "And he," said Gregson slowly, "was one of the cruellest men that ever walked this fair land oi Australia; and one of his pet contrivances was a machine for combining murder with the most exquisite torture. "Most merciful people would say that he was mad; if so, he was the sanest madman I have ever met, for he never showed the least sign of lunacy in his ordinary life. My own opinion is that, in common with others of historical infamy, he possessed a passion for killing, and I believe he was responsible for several mysterious disappearances which occurred in the neighborhood where he resided. ;

"His hobby, as he told me more than once, was to invent machines tiiat would provide appropriate punishment for every possible crime; and, naturally, his chief desire was to provide a suitable one for murder. He had several designs for this last, with which, I think, those disappearances I mentioned were intimately connected. "Phyllis Erskine, as you know, was his ward, and he was madly in love with her, though I don't believe anyone, save she and I, knew it. I need not remind you, llarry, that she preferred me. Owing to this, as I now 9 understand, he grew to hate me, and possibly her also. Anyhow, lie concocted a revenge against me which nearly made Phyllis a widow two months after our marriage, and which, bv the way, caused her premature death. I have told no living person this story; and, now she is dead, there tan be no harm in revealing it. '•1 had known Professor Batson for years, and, without knowing much about each other, we had always 'been friends —that is to say, we tolerated each other 1 • —though he never consented to my marriage with Phyllis so long as she remained under his care.

"However, when she became of age, and was free to do as she pleased, he could advance 110 further objection to our union. He even went so Ear as to be my best man at the wedding.

"It* was not until we had returned from our honeymoon that he had made any attempt to carry out liis wild scheme of revenge. He called at out house one day, excusing himself for his surprise visit by remarking that he was on his way back home, but as he tod given his housekeeper orders to prepare dinner for three —and also as he knew my wiles passion for music, and that he had purchased a new piano—lie would humbly request our presence at his festive board. '1 have a cab waiting,' he added.

"We could not snub the man in our own house, though, somehow, the proTfessor always seemed to give me a ereepv sensation. "My wife excused herself, pleading the cause of the average woman—headache. 'But,' slie added, 'Harry may go with pleasure.' And so a minute later we were bowling along the road; the professor, who seemed to be in high spirits —keeping me laughing with his jokes. "The rain had commenced to fall as the professor let himself in with his private key—his inventions ranged irom patent locks upwards. I stood on the doorstep, fully convinced in my own mind that I was a fool to have accepted I the invitation. 'Come on, man,' he ! shouted, 'don't look as if you were going I to a funeral.' , The chuckle he gave ; when he mentioned funeral made me j start. i " 'We shall have the' house to ouri selves/ he added, 'most of the servants i have left, and the remaining one will I depart after dinner.' Again that feel- ! ing 01 distrust came over me, but I put it aside as ridiculous, so iollowed Batson into the hall. I was hanging my overcoat up on the hallstand when a mutter exclamation from Batson caused me to turn.

'•He must luive caught my eye upon him. 'l've lost my pocket-book,' he explained. " 'Anything in it of value?' I felt myself contrained to enquire.

" 'Only some notes I shouldn't like a stranger to get hold of,' he remarked, with a sullen look on his face.

"We entered the dining-room. I cannot do justice to the dinner in mere •words, sufficient to say that it was as .perfect in its way as anything else the professor undertook. "Well, like everything else, it came to an end. We sat spinning yarns over our coffee and cigars, and the cigars, incidentally, were the best it has even been my pleasure to smoke.

"Suddenly he turned the conversation on to his own inventions.

" 'I asked you and your wife to come to-night'—and as he spoke his brow grew dark —'because I have just completed my great machine, And,' he added, ; 1 wished you two to be the first to see it working.' " 'lndeed,' 1 replied mechanically, trying' to appear interested—though something vague in his expression n|ade me start with the old uneasy feeling—'what is it this time?' '• 'Well,' replied Batson, 'primarily, it is intended for tile execution of murderers, secondly, it does not give them the easy exit a motherly law usually extends to these canaille.' •' 'Explain,' returned I. " 'To be brief, I think that murderers should experience some of the torture that is usually experienced by the relatives of the victim. Hanging is, to my opinion, absurdly inadequate'—he went on in his cold-blooded way—'it is all over in an instant. Now, my little invention is—but there, one more glass of this excellent whisky, and you shall see for yourself.' "He filled the glasses, we raised them together. 'A toast,' cried he, his eyes glaring like coals, 'to my machine.' " 'To your machine,' cried I, feeling somehow, as I tossed off the liquor, something like a man who had committed a shabby action. Batson led the way to the workshop; it was a long, rambling building, situated at the bottom of the garden; he inserted the key, and, motioning me to enter, closed the door and turned the key, explaining—when he noticed niv look of surprise—he did not want anyone to pry into his secrets. "I cast, my eyes around the place; it was a roomy building. One corner was occupied by a dynamo; the roof seemed to be a mass of connecting rods, while the machine itself occupied the middle of the floor.

" 'You see those rods,' explained Batson, 'they are the principal part of the mechanism'; and so he rambled on. My head was beginning to swim; I had a dim, hazy notion that Batson was drawling out his theories in dull monotone. Then 1 suddenly sank, "n in-n-t mass, to the floor. Ths last glass of whisky must have been drugged. "When I came to myself again, I tried to rise, but I was bound fast, hand and foot, a gag was in my mouth, my head felt like a piece of lead. I saw that I was fastened to a steel table of the machine; Batson was standing over me, a devilish look of malignity in his glowing eyes.

11 'At last, at last, my dear favored Harry,' he taunted. 'Ah, no one can put into speech the longing I have had for this moment; ever since the fair Phyllis rejected me in your favor, I have waited and plotted for this end. 'Revenge!' he screamed, 'revenge upon the pair of you! Love, you miserable fool, what do you know of love? Do you think a man with the calibre of brain 1 possess was to be cast aside lightly? But it is not love now, my dear young friend—it is hate! Hate that will only be appeased when I see your forms', victims to the power of "my machine.

"' 'i tbld y'Ju that I wished you both to be the first witnesses, of my triumph; weli, I've snared one bird, the other can wait. •

•' "Let me see,' he continued. 'I think it is eighty movements per minute. Sorry I've mislaid! my notebook,' he muttered. 'Anyhow,' lie went on, 'I think I have the numbers, in my bead.' "'Now, Harry, my boy,.' he snarled, 'you are in a position, to observe the machine to the best advantage; you are fastened to it now, so I can have my revenge and test the machine at the same tim&.' "And then he must have seen the look of frozen horror in my eys-s. '"Yes, Harry, it's a pretty toy,' he gibbered, 'let me explain its. beauty; and pay strict attention; it will be to your advantage to do so. '• 'The table on which you; aire lying slides slightly to one side with the move-'-ment of your head. Now, look above you; what ao you see? A knife. Exactly. Now, my boy, I give vou the chance to prolong your life; you will lose it eventually, but that's, a mere detail. The knife descends evary second; if you move your head slightly, the table, which, by the way, bail .bearings, moves to one side,thu s- allowing the descending knife to slightly graze your face. On the other land, if you lose count, the -blade will descend, and sever those features of wMch the fair Phyllis is so fond. Ingenious, isn't it?' he raved, with a look of hate, only to me compared with one of Dante's creations. "Then the awful strain commenced. 'Chop,' the knife seemed to bite into the table as I moved my head aside. Sitting here, it may seem easy to move one's head about every second. But, .after the first few seconds, my neck seemed to be in the grip of som£ giant vice; my eyes- began to get dizzy; and thus the danger of miscalculation was intensified. "'Who's there?' shouted Batson.

"'lt is I—Phyllis,' was the answer. My God! My wife here, and I powerless to warn her-. I was so paralysed I almost lost count of the knife gracing my ear in its descent. "Batson advanced to where- I lay. 'Fortune smiles on me,' he grinned. 'Now you shall have company, and the machine another victim,' and, opening the door, he drew back to allow my wife to pass. "I tried to shout, but my lips refused their office; even were the gag not there, my tongue was swelled wit& torture. Batson made a rush towards Phyllis, but found himself looking down the barrel of a revolver; at the same time the burly forms of three police constables filled the doorway. "Phyllis cocked the revolver. 'Stop that machine!' she commanded.

"Batson. with a snarl of rage, seized a heavy spanner, and aimed a fearful blow at my defenceless head; at the same time Phvllis fire'd, his foot slipped, and, with a sickening crunch, the knife

descended. In aiming at me. he had slipped beneath the blade. "I remembered no more until I awoke in the hospital, to find my wife bending over me. "I gazed round, hardly grasping the ,fact that I was still alive. Yes, I was alive. There sat the inspector making notes, there the nurse, and there my dear one, hysterical with joy. "She hart found Batson's pocket-book in the hall where he had dropped it before leaving the house on that awful night. It had lain open oil the floor. The sight that had sent my darling hot-foot after me was the drawings ■and plans of the devilish machine, with the body of a man fastened beneath. The figure my likeness, for Batson «-;u nil artist of some repute. My wife had flown to the police station, where, after a lot of argument, they wee'e induced to accompany her. "My wife nursed me back to life, but the shock sent her to her grave twelve 1 months after. Now you know why my hair is white, though yet in the thirties."

"I-stirred the fire. Gregson'; tale had quite unnerved me. "Come and have a game of billiards," 1 said.