A Son of Perdition Part 46

"There is nothing further to say, Mr. Enistor. The presumed dead man revived this morning and is now as well as you or I. I was sent for immediately by the landlady and called to express my astonishment. I have telegraphed for the Perchton doctor who deposed to the death. He will be amazed to learn what has taken place. Wonderful! Wonderful!

Wonderful!"

"It is no doubt a case of catalepsy as you say," growled the Squire, turning to his desk again. "A good thing for Hardwick that he wasn't buried alive. Now he can enjoy Narvaez' fortune and have a good time."

"I hope he will be a good man, seeing that he has been raised from the dead like Lazarus. Not that Mr. Hardwick was bad. Indeed I always thought that he had signs of grace about him. Well! Well! His resurrection gives me a text for next Sunday. I thought you would be pleased."

"I am not pleased and I am not sorry," retorted Enistor. "Hardwick is a nonent.i.ty and is nothing to me."

"I thought you were friends, Mr. Enistor. He asks to see you, saying that he is sure you will come down to him at once."

"He presumes too much. I have quite enough to do in searching for this scoundrel who murdered my dear friend."

"I don't believe he did," said Sparrow decidedly. "Mr. Montrose is not the man to shed blood."

"He didn't," said the Squire grimly, "he broke the man's neck. And if he did not murder Narvaez, who did? Not Job Trevel, who was the other person who uttered threats."

"It is a great mystery," sighed the vicar, putting on his hat.

"Like this confounded resurrection of Hardwick. Why the deuce couldn't he stay in the next world after taking the trouble to go there? He's not much use in this one so far as I can see."

"Question not the decrees of the Almighty," said Mr. Sparrow rebukingly.

"But there: I am speaking to a deaf adder. May I see Miss Enistor to comfort her and offer up a prayer in her present sorrow?"

"Yes. She's moping in her room and behaving like a fool. Offer up what prayers you like: they won't do any good. It is all her folly in getting engaged to that young criminal that has brought things to this pa.s.s."

"Mr. Montrose is innocent," said Sparrow obstinately, "and in due time G.o.d will prove his innocence. I wish you a softer heart, Mr. Enistor, and good-day," and the worthy parson stalked out of the room to seek Alice and console her.

Enistor did not resume his work immediately. It had to do with the disappearance of Montrose, as he was writing to the Perchton Inspector.

Before the entrance of Sparrow with his wonderful news, the work had seemed very important, but now Enistor felt inclined to lay it aside and seek the lodgings of the artist. Certainly it was wonderful that Hardwick should recover, after he had been lying dead--as the doctor insisted--for so long a time. Undoubtedly it was a case of catalepsy, and Enistor felt curious to see the man who had been so nearly buried alive. His sister was due the next day to see about the funeral, and Enistor laughed when he thought how the frivolous little woman would be surprised. Disappointed also it might be, as she, being the next of kin, would have enjoyed Narvaez' money had her brother really pa.s.sed away. It was all very strange, and after a moment's hesitation the Squire put on his cap and walked down to Polwellin. He would see for himself what had taken place, and would question Hardwick concerning what he had seen during his trance. For trance it was the Squire felt sure, and the recovery--in his opinion--was a perfectly natural one.

There was quite a crowd round the lodging, and Hardwick's landlady was recounting her feelings when the dead man had come to life. She certainly looked as though she had sustained a shock, and seemed rather disappointed that there was to be no funeral. Enistor listened grimly to her incoherent explanations, then pushed his way into the house and sought the artist's sitting-room. He found Hardwick dressed in his usual clothes and presenting an unusually vigorous appearance. His face was more highly coloured, his eyes were full of fire, and he moved about with the swift grace of a panther, alert, vital, impetuously and wonderfully alive. Enistor stared in amazement at the sight. Never had he seen before so splendid and powerful a man, or one so charged with life-force.

"Dying seems to have done you good, Hardwick," he observed dryly.

"It looks like it," replied the other, and although he spoke in his usual mellow voice, the Squire p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and looked at him inquiringly. The tone was more imperious than that ordinarily used by Hardwick, and had in it a dominant, crushing quality which startled the visitor.

The two men stared hard at one another. Hardwick took up his position on the hearth-rug, leaning easily against the mantelpiece, while Enistor took possession of a deep arm-chair near the window. The door was closed, as was the window, so they were quite alone; entirely free from observation and eavesdropping. The Squire felt that in spite of Hardwick's late cataleptic trance the artist was more alive than he was, since wave after wave of powerful animal vitality seemed to emanate from him and fill the little room. Then Enistor cried out with sudden terror.

He had reason to do so. Every nerve in his body was aching with agony, and every muscle was twisted with pain. Some force ran through his frame like fire, excruciating, insistent and terrible. He could not rise from the chair, he could not even move a finger, but lay where he was inert and helpless, with that devouring flame tormenting him to madness. And indeed Enistor wondered why he did not go mad with the frenzy of pain, while Hardwick smiled on him quietly and calmly and unwinkingly, like an avenging G.o.d. After that one cry the miserable man uttered no other. He felt that it would be useless to protest in any weak human way. He was in the grip of a tremendous force and as helpless as a fly in the claws of a spider.

"I don't think you will taunt me any more with the loss of my power,"

said Hardwick suavely. "I am a fraud, am I? my will has been shattered?

Eh? How do you like that, my dear friend?" and again there came another surge of the biting fire, which caused the perspiration to break out on Enistor's forehead.

"Who--who--who are you?" stammered the Squire brokenly. He was beginning to have an inkling of the appalling truth, for he well knew that only one man--if man he were--could exercise such devilish power.

"I think you can tell me that."

"Narvaez!"

"Exactly!" The magician withdrew his intense gaze, and loosened his victim from the bonds of torment, then sat down quietly, smiling and bland. "I think you have had enough proof."

Enistor feebly moved his limbs and wiped his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief. His mouth was so dry that he could scarcely speak, and he thankfully poured out a gla.s.s of water from a carafe which was on the table. As he drank, a delicious sense of freedom from pain pa.s.sed through him, and he knew that the man lounging in the chair was curing what he had hurt. "I have had enough proof," gasped Enistor, setting down the empty gla.s.s. "You are Don Pablo in Hardwick's body."

"Yes! I am very well satisfied with my new suit of clothes," said the other, looking at his limbs complacently. "Hardwick's retiring soul left its earthly vehicle in good order. The organs are all sound, the blood is of the best, and the whole mechanism only needed the extra vitality which I am able to supply."

"How can you get the vitality?" asked Enistor rather nervously, for the sight before him was enough to shake an ordinary man to the core of his being.

"Never mind. I know how to tap the source of life and use what I will.

Hardwick could not do that, being ignorant, therefore he died from sheer lack of vitality. A lucky thing for me, as it gave me a chance of replacing my worn-out body with this very splendid instrument."

"Did you kill Hardwick?"

"No. There was no need to kill him. His Ego had been drawing the soul back for a long time, and knowing that he would soon die, I made my arrangements accordingly so as to enter the body."

"Then your lie to lure Montrose to the cottage----"

"_Was_ a lie--in your interest," said Narvaez-Hardwick coolly. "It was necessary that Montrose should be there so as to be inculpated in my death. Do you understand now why I insulted Alice so that Montrose might publicly quarrel with me?"

"Oh!" The Squire turned pale as he began to comprehend the infernal ingenuity with which the magician had wrought out his scheme. "Then Montrose is not the guilty man?"

"No more than you are. My insult to your daughter was a comedy to deceive the public as to Montrose's feelings towards me. My behaviour when you called to taunt me was part of the same comedy. I think I played my part excellently well, Enistor, or you would have been afraid to say what you did. I suppose you are now convinced that I still have my powers: if not----" he leaned forward to fix the other man with his eye.

"No! No! No, I am quite convinced," and Enistor cowered in his chair.

"You are Narvaez true enough."

"To you and to The Adversary whom no disguise can deceive. But the rest of the world will know me as Julian Hardwick. When Montrose is disposed of, my friend, I can then marry Alice as arranged. She was not averse to becoming Hardwick's wife, so there will be no difficulty over that.

And I am still rich, as I made over all my fortune by will to Hardwick, and inherit my own money. I have sent for the lawyer, who will come and see me to-morrow to arrange about the transfer of the property when my late body is buried. And I think," ended Narvaez-Hardwick pensively, "that I shall follow the corpse of my benefactor to the grave. Grace my own funeral," he laughed, much amused.

"Where is Hardwick's soul?" stammered Enistor, who felt the hair of his head rising with the natural terror of the human for the superhuman.

"Purging its baser qualities on the Astral Plane," said the other carelessly. "He won't stay long there, as he was such a pious a.s.s he will probably get his share of heaven before long. I am not interested in him. I have done him no harm in taking his body. It was useless to him and is useful to me. Oh!"

Narvaez-Hardwick rose and stretched himself. "It is splendid to have so magnificent a vehicle. In it I shall live years and years gaining wider and wider knowledge to extend my empire."

"But the Great Power that struck you down and warned you----"

"Hold your tongue," snarled the magician, with a look which transformed the kindly face of Hardwick into the semblance of a fiend. "Leave me to deal with powers higher or lower as the case may be. I have held my own for centuries against all. Are you about to become a pupil of The Adversary as I suggested when you taunted me in the cottage?"

"No. And yet The Adversary has greater power than you have."

"It's a lie," shouted Narvaez-Hardwick imperiously. "What struck me down was a much Mightier Power, which I don't choose to name. I told you that before. Hold to me, Enistor, and I can give you the kingdoms of the earth."

"At what price?" Enistor shivered at the look on the other's face.

"You know the price. You must give me Alice for my wife, and you must obey me in every way. I cannot instruct you unless you do. And now that Montrose is in your power and has to pay back the life he took from you in Chaldea, you can force him to give up the fortune."

"He refuses."