EBONY TORSO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 August 1939, Page 10

EBONY TORSO

(By

JOHN C. WOODIWISS.)

CHAPTER I. “I was first asked to call on Scutt by his wife, who was seriously alarmed at his mental state, and got me to look in ..and see whether 1 could do anything That was about six months ago, and I found hirn just recovering from a severe bout of drinking, and in an extremely excited and nervous state.” "Had he got to the ‘blue devils’ stage?” inquired Hopton facetiously. “More or less,” Galesbourne agreed with a sad smile. “He tola me he had been associating with a woman called Mrs Abershaw. a widow, I understand who had lived in Hong Kong for some years, and had been practising this magical business with disastrous results to her menial balance. It seems this unfortunate woman imagined herself to be in the power of some evil spirit—an Incubus, she called it, which had attached itself to her and of which she was quite unable to rid herself.”

“Was she a drinker, too?” Hopton inquired sceptically. “I never saw her,” replied the parson. “And, quite frankly, I’m glad I didn’t: such cases are very painful.” “That’s true, sir,” agreed Carlingford. “There are one or two border line cases round here.”,

The vicar shook his head without commenting on the officer’s statement.

"Scutt told me he had been making attempts to remove this entity from the unfortunate woman,” he continued after a pause. “But he had got the idea firmly into his head that the thing, which he described as being black and formless, had transferred itself to him and was sapping his vitality. This dreadful delusion became so firmly fixed in the poor wretch’s brain that his nerve went completely, and he behaved more like a lunatic than a rational being,” went on Mi’ Galesbourne. "He used to lie and rave for hours on end that this demon was waiting to kill him and seemed only able to escape from his terrors by means of alcohol, which he took in increasing quantities.” Hopton noted the fact in his book, but made no comment.

“It was a very distressing case, Inspector,” the parson continued, “and I did everything I could by calling repeatedly and trying to reason with the poor wretch. However, to cut a long story, short, things came to climax this morning, when Mrs Scutt called at the vicarage in an almost hysterical state, and begged me to come and talk to her husband as he had one of his attacks. I was so sorry for the poor woman that I did as she asked me, although I knew my efforts were hopeless, and found him in a very violent and excited condition." “I see." remarked the detective. "But no worse than you’d seen him before. I suppose?" “Well, yes, and no," replied (lie padre. "He sat up as 1 came in and cried, 'Thank God you’ve come. Vicar! I’ve had an awful night keeping it off!”

“Alluding to this demon?" queried Hopton, in a sarcastic tone.

“Quite so,” agreed the Vicar. “I tried to soothe him down by showing him how foolish these terrors were, but it was no use, and he started to tell me the entity was becoming increasingly powerful, and that it would eventually kill him.”

“Pretty bad case. I should say," commented the Inspector. “Well, I thought it sounded like the raving of a maniac at the time.” Galcsbourne reluctantly agreed. "But. in view of what happened afterwards, I have begun to think . . .” His voipe trailed off into an awed silence, broken at last by the detective. "Yes, sir." he prompted, leaning forward. "Please go on."

The parson coughed nervously, and continued his story.

“Scutt now drew my attention to a peculiar piece of carving propped up on the chest of drawers facing him. ‘That's African work,’ he told me, ‘and that's the thing which is going to cause my death! 1 got it from Mrs Abershaw, like the fool I was, and this ghastly Incubus came with it. I thought I was powerful enough to master it; but it was the stronger of the two, and now it won’t be very long before it’ll kill me. I want you to remember what I’ve told you when I’m found dead, one of these days Vicar.’ " “And he was more or less sober when he said this’.”’ questioned Hopton.

”1 should say practically sober." nodded the parson. "And I can assure you the earnest way he said it made my flesh creep! But I wasn’t going to show any signs of fear before him: and, in spite ol his protests and warnings, I got up and had a good look at the thing. It was the rough torso of a man, and seemed to have been carved by someone who had good.idea of anatomy, from a solid piece of very black wood —ebony. I fancy." Yes, it was ebony, sir." amplified Carlingford.

"Oh, so you've got Ihe thing, have you?" inquired Hopton turning to the other officer.

“I'll show it to you." replied the Divisional Inspector.

He rose as he spoke, and, crossing the room unlocked his safe and took out the carving, which he placed on the table before the Scotland Yard man. who picked it up and examined in curiously.

It was unquestionably primitive but the person who carved it had quite a fair idea of anatomy, as the vicar had said, and the figure had a certain beauty, headless and armless though it was. The detective turned it round and looked it over thoroughly, in silence. while the parson’s face showed that he regarded it with a species of superstitious dread. The thing was obviously of native origin and was not unlike one of their grotesque fetish carvings.

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After a while Hopton looked up and smiled as ho saw the padre's serious face.

"You don’t really think this thing had anything to do with Scutl’s death, do you sir?” he asked, tapping it irreverently with his forefinger. “I've no doubt about it. Inspector."

Hcptcn laughed openly as he handed the “Ebony Torso” back to his brother officer.

"Be careful or you'll get the Police Station wafted to Arabia by a whirlwind. or something of that sort,” he chuckled facetiously. "British law and Black Magic don't mix well.” "Joking’s all very fine, Inspector, but I think you'll have to admit the facts of this case are queer and distinctly uncanny before you're through!” retorted Galesbourne sharply. “Let me tell you the rest of the story and you can then form your own opinion.” "Very good, sir,” agreed Hopton. as Carlingford returned the carving to the safe. "Sorry I interrupted you.” "I examined the statue closely, and found nothing unusual about it, except that it appeared to be very old and jf primitive workmanship .. . un-

native, I should say.” “Not 'spooky' at all?” smiled the detective.

“Well, I can only say 1 didn’t experience anything strange, but. after the tragedy that has followed. I must admit my views have undergone a considerable change.”

Hopton nodded, and the Vicar went on:

"Scutt, as I mentioned before, was almost crazy with terror, and begged me to stay witji him, as he seemed horrified of being left alone with the

carving.” “But, couldn’t he have destroyed it?” asked Hopton "That seemed the obvious thing to do.” "I suggested iff” replied the parson.' “But he told me it would be no use. as the entity, whatever it' was, couldn't be got rid of by destroying the image.' He was in such a state of mental torture that I sat with him as long as I could, .until a quarter to eleven, to oe exact—when I was obliged to return to my vicarage to meet a man with whom I had an appointment. Before leaving, however, 1 promised to come back to the sick man by half-past eleven and see how ne was getting on, for I was seriously worried about the poor fellow. Even then I had a job to get away, for he was most unwilling to let me go, Inspector, and when I left, he got out of bed and put down the catch of the spring lock which was on the inside of his bedroom door.” "That’s rather an unusual thing,” suggested Hopton. “A spring lock on

the inside of a bedroom door seems distinctly queer.” “He appeared to be in terror of attack from this entity, or something," replied Galesbourne promptly. "Although it seems odd he could imagine a lock would keep out anything supernatural." “Looks as if he was in fear of something more concrete than spooks, eh?" commented the detective, noting the point in his book.” “That I can’t say, of course." replied the parson, with a shake of the head. “I can only tell you exactly what occurred." ■"Quite so. What was the name of the man you had this appointment with at ten forty-five, sir?” “His name was Baily—Reginald Baily," replied the Vicar after a second's thought. “And his address?” continued Hopton doggedly. “I really can’t remember,” Galesbourne assured him. “The matter I had to see him about was a very private one.”

“To private for us to inquire into, perhaps?” suggested his questioner pointedly. I can only tell you it was a matter concerning a young woman,” the priest answered. "I used to know his address but I can t remember very clearly since my recent breakdown.” You seem to recall the events of this morning fairly perfectly, sir,” commented the Scotland Yard man.” £he horror ol this ghastly crime has stamped the details on my memory." the priest returned slowly. "And you can’t give me Reginald Baily’s address?" "Not at the moment, but no doubt I shall think of it later," sighed the Vicar in a worried tone. " I’hen please go on with your story, sir," Hopion suggested. "1 hurried over to the Vicarage, where I found Baily waiting; we had our chat, and it was a few minutes after half-past eleven, when I got back to Scutt’s house.” “You’re quite certain about the time, sir? It’s important." “Oh, yes. Inspector. 1 remember because 1 heard the half-hour chime from St Luke’s clock, as 1 left my house, and it would take me . . well , . certainly not more than three minutes to reach his place. I let’ myself in and went straight upstairs to see the sufferer." "The time then, wouldn’t be later than eleven-fifty?" "Nut so late. Inspector, Not a miniate later than eleven-forty, if as much." "I see," nodded Hopion. making a note in his book.

"Well, I found the bedroom door still locked, and tapped several times for him to. let me in. without getting any reply. Then I became suspicious, called Mrs Scutt up. and told her what had happened. After some difficulty, 11 managed to break open the door, and found the unfortunate man lyingdead in his bod, his face contorted into a dreadful expression of horror, and several long, deep wounds on his throat from which the blood had run down on to the neck of his pyjama jacket ” (To be Continued.)