By Veldt and Kopje Part 13

Scarren was installed as marker in old Isaac's place. He was an old, shrivelled-up man of few words but many pipes, of the worst tobacco I have ever inhaled the smoke of. Scarren and Isaac had been great cronies, although the one had been as loquacious as the other was silent. However, in spite of his reserve there was a twinkle in Scarren's eye which suggested latent humorous possibilities. He had been a hanger-on at the hotel for several years, making a precarious living by doing odd jobs. The occupation he loved most was fishing, especially for eels. As a rule, before you had conversed with him for five minutes upon any subject whatever, he would produce from his pocket what had once been a fish-hook, which ought to have been capable of holding a moderately-sized shark, but which was now a straight bar of iron with a barb at one end. The straightening-out had, he said, been effected in the following manner: One night he had hooked an enormous eel. Finding his strength unequal to landing the prey he tied the line to an adjacent thorn-tree, which swayed violently to the monster's frantic tugs. All at once the stress on the line ceased and Scarren thought it had broken; but no, it was the hook that had given way, for when he drew it out of the water it was no longer a hook but a straight bar. The date of this episode was long before I made Scarren's acquaintance. I was informed upon unimpeachable authority that the original, actual hook of the adventure had been stolen many years previously by some practical joker. Scarren, however, said not a word of his loss, but next day he was seen, when telling the story to a stranger, to produce another and a larger straightened hook from his pocket for the purpose of ill.u.s.trating his narrative. Shortly afterwards the second hook was stolen, but was replaced by yet a larger one. This process had been several times repeated, with the result that the alleged hook of the adventure grew until quite a startling size was reached. The size to which Scarren's hook will have attained in, say, ten years, if Scarren lives so long, might be an interesting subject for speculation.

_Two_.

About a month before old Isaac's death a certain man whom I will call Chimer came to stay at the hotel. He had been sent as the representative of a firm of Port Elizabeth merchants to a.s.sist in winding up the affairs of a local trader who had come to financial grief. Chimer's room was next to mine; thus we got into the habit of finishing our evenings together.

Nearly every man has a fad, and this man's fad was spiritualism. He was a firm believer in ghosts and astral bodies, and the prophets of his cult were A.P. Sinnett and Madame Blavatski. He did his best to make a convert of me, but in spite of a close perusal of some very striking literature on the subject from the pens of men of splendid ability and great scientific attainments, I remained conscientiously unconvinced.

Like the late George Augustus Sala, although I could conceive the possibility of the ghost of a man revisiting the scenes of his lifetime, I found it impossible to believe in the ghost of his garments, and who ever heard of an undraped apparition? The detailed account given by one eminent scientist as to how he was in the habit of materialising an attractive young female spirit named "Katie King," with whom he was on terms of striking intimacy, seemed not alone an insult to the human understanding but a melancholy instance of the weaknesses of the strong, of which history is full. Chimer was said to be a most successful medium, but he failed signally to produce any "manifestations" on the occasions when he attempted to convince me by means of demonstration.

In discussing spiritualism he never used the first person singular, but always spoke of what "we" believe, what "we" have done, etc.

On the second evening after old Isaac's death I dined at the house of a friend; it was about half-past ten o'clock when I returned to the hotel.

I was surprised to find the usual habitues of the billiard-room sitting in the dining-room. The only one who looked cheerful was Chimer; all the others appeared to be absolutely terror-stricken, their faces gleaming pallid under the sickly rays of a debilitated paraffin lamp.

From time to time they glanced uneasily over their shuddering shoulders, and they all puffed with nervous fury at their respective pipes.

It was a queer collection of specimens of the genus h.o.m.o that I saw.

There was Woods, who had not missed an evening in the billiard-room (excepting Sundays, when he invariably went to church) for many years.

He was in the habit of beating his wife and starving his children; no one had the least idea as to what the source of his income was, but he always had money for liquor, for billiards and for putting in the plate.

There was Shawe, champion liar of the town; he apparently lived on Cape and tobacco-smoke, and he played a fair game of billiards except when sober. There was Loots, the Dutchman, who never drank at his own expense or played a game of billiards that there was the slightest chance of his losing. Dan Menzies, the Scotch tailor, who had all the instincts of a gentleman, as well as many of the potential elements of greatness, in spite of the fact of his being an almost hopeless sot.

Brooke Crofton, who had been dismissed from his regiment during the Soudan campaign for disobedience of orders given during an action, or, as others put it, for cowardice. He was now, and had been for several years, trying to drink himself to death on an allowance made him for that purpose by his wife, who lived in England and had money of her own.

Most of the others were young clerks and a.s.sistants in stores. Chimer looked up and caught my eye. In his there was a triumphant gleam.

The proprietor, whose face was the palest of the lot, soon revealed the gruesome cause of the terror which brooded over the gathering. A few hours previously they had all been sitting in the billiard-room, watching the course of a game, the first played on the table since the fixing of the new cloth and cushions, which had only been completed during the afternoon. On the top of a little cupboard which stood in the corner, and in which spare b.a.l.l.s, chalk, sandpaper and other billiard requisites were kept, had been placed the mahogany triangle-frame which is used for fixing the b.a.l.l.s in position in the game of pyramid pool. Lying in the triangle were the fifteen pyramid b.a.l.l.s. Woods and Crofton were the players. It was noticed that the lamps were in very bad trim and gave a most wretched light. (Shawe declared fervently that he had noticed a distinctly blue tinge in the flame; two of the clerks present corroborated this when appealed to).

All at once the triangle was seen to fly violently from the top of the cupboard, whilst the fifteen ivory b.a.l.l.s crashed down on the floor and rolled with loud clatterings in different directions. The triangle-frame, out of which the b.a.l.l.s had dropped, seemed as if propelled by an unseen power almost out of the window, close to which it, too, fell to the floor with an appalling noise. The effect on the spectators was terrific; Woods, Crofton and one of the clerks fainted dead away, and the others rushed from the room with wild yells.

As the moving incident was being related to me, Scarren, who happened not to have witnessed it, was engaged in quenching the lights and generally putting the room in order. The Fingo waiter was in unwilling attendance; for Scarren had, naturally enough, demurred at entering the room alone, and none of those who had been present when the fearsome occurrence took place would consent to accompany him.

After some very straight hints from the proprietor the haggard band departed in a body to see each other home. The last man was not to be envied.

_Three_.

Whilst on the way to my room for the purpose of retiring I noticed Chimer sitting on his bed. I entered his room. He was smoking his pipe, and his face wore a look of exultant satisfaction. I could hardly be surprised.

"Well?" said he.

"Well?" replied I.

"I should like to know how you account for what occurred to-night."

"At present I cannot account for it. Can you?"

"Yes, but I fear your prejudices would not allow of your admitting my explanation."

"You think, of course, that the spirit of old Isaac sent these b.a.l.l.s rolling about the room."

"Certainly, I do."

"But if," said I, with the vain rashness of superior knowledge, "as you admit, a spirit gives neither chemical or dynamic evidence of its presence, how can it act physically upon inert bodies?"

"My dear fellow, as I have often told you, we do not for a moment pretend to be able to give an exhaustive explanation of phenomena of this cla.s.s. We simply say that in incidents such as this, where what are called 'natural' causes are eliminated from the field of consideration by the fact of their absence, it is reasonable to fall back on what is called the 'supernatural.' As I have been careful to explain to you more than once, this may be a branch of the natural, and may be recognised some day as a legitimate subject for scientific research by those who now treat us with derision."

"But are you justified in eliminating all possible natural causes in the present instance?"

"Certainly--you heard the account given; this was corroborated by all who were present. There was no one near the cupboard, the triangle was seen, in direct opposition to the law of gravitation, to fly through the air impelled by some force which could not, according to any scientific hypothesis, have had a natural origin."

"But, a.s.suming the elimination of all natural possibilities--which is rather a large order--does it not seem shockingly inconsistent with all our ideas on the subject of death, which lends a certain dignity that we instinctively recognise even to the pa.s.sing away of the life of a puppy, to believe that the spirits of a large number of men who, in essentials were very much the same in their lifetime as we are, have found nothing better to do in 'the vasty halls of death,' than to remain at the beck and call of a lot of (very often) silly persons and, when so bidden, to make tables dance, rap out unmeaning nonsense, or else to scare tipplers from a billiard-room by rolling b.a.l.l.s about the floor."

"The world of the flesh is full of inconsistencies," my philosopher explained; "why not, therefore, the world of the spirits? What we think of that phase of the question is this, namely: that spirits on the lower planes--which are those concerned in so-called manifestations--are the ones which cannot sever themselves from the environment their bodies were accustomed to. As there are different degrees of development among animals, of which man is the head, so there are among spirits. Thus some of the latter may be as the lower animals of the spirit-kingdom, and may indulge, as there is good reason for believing that they do, in spiritual monkey-tricks."

Knowing that Chimer and old Isaac had detested each other, I felt it would have been of no use my attempting the rehabilitation of the old man's ghost from the suspicion of being a spiritual monkey in the gloomy groves of Hades.

"Good-night, Chimer; I can only repeat the argument which Hume used against miracles. I do not think that Isaac had anything to do with to-night's scare."

And so, with the complacent dogmatism of the sceptic, I turned on my heel. The reader, no doubt, is of the opinion I expressed, but let him await the sequel.

Chimer nodded to me with an expression of pitying superiority. I went to bed and fell asleep almost immediately, for me a very unusual circ.u.mstance. I had a strange and vivid dream. I seemed to be wandering through a shadowy grove; all at once I saw a dejected-looking monkey which took great pains to conceal its face. It was sitting under a tree, to which its tail was tied. Moved by a sympathetic impulse, I approached and untied the knot; then I gently removed the paws from the downcast visage, with the view of offering consolation. The poor creature looked up diffidently and I recognised the features of Chimer.

After this I wandered on and on, until I found myself on the verge of the smiling Elysian fields, which seemed to stretch away to infinity in fertile beauty. Under a tree which was laden with many-hued spherical fruit of about the size of billiard-b.a.l.l.s, lay old Isaac, fast asleep, and with a smile of supreme peace upon his worn face. He was wrapped in the old billiard-cloth which I had caused to be placed in his coffin.

_Four_.

Another month went past. In a few days my somewhat wearying stay at Hilston would draw to a close. Chimer had returned to Port Elizabeth, whence he had written to tell me of a remarkable manifestation which had taken place under his mediumship, in the course of which he had actually communicated with Isaac's spirit. Isaac said that he had caused the manifestation in the billiard-room, but that he did not mean to do the like again. After this, he had obstinately refused to answer any more questions. This, Chimer considered, proved that Isaac dead was more or less of the same disobliging nature as Isaac had been living--a strong collateral evidence of the genuineness of both his messages from the unseen. However, so far as manifestations were concerned, Isaac had hitherto kept his word, for the harmony of the billiard-room had not again been disturbed. The episode of the triangle and the scattered b.a.l.l.s was almost forgotten, and the muddy trickle of belated life around the renovated table had long since resumed its normal course.

I had, all along, been keenly anxious to unravel the mystery of the locomotive triangle and the crashing b.a.l.l.s, but hitherto all my efforts had been vain. I had from the beginning suspected Scarren of having had a hand in the business, and had over and over again attempted to draw him out on the subject. He, however, with much adroitness, had invariably turned the conversation to the topic of eel-fishing.

However, the suspicion that Scarren could explain the matter if he only would, grew on me day by day, and I determined to make a desperate a.s.sault upon the citadel of his reserve before leaving Hilston. I had accidentally found out that whenever I fixed him with my eye, Scarren became very uneasy and endeavoured to escape. After this discovery I ceased to question him, but whenever I could manage to do so, I fixed him with a steady stare. Each successive time this happened he squirmed more and more until, at length, he got to avoiding me by means of the most obvious and awkward shifts.

At length--it was two days before my intended departure--I caught him alone in the billiard-room, where I had seen him enter with a paraffin can for the purpose of replenishing the lamps. I followed him, shut the door behind me, walked slowly to where he stood in the corner fumbling at a lamp with feverish and ostentatious activity, and stood behind him, relentless as Fate. First of all he pretended to be unaware of my presence, then he gave a hurried and startled glance over his shoulder.

"Scarren," said I, "you might as well own up. How did you manage it?"

He tried to bolt incontinently, but I got between him and the door.

"Don't be a fool," I said rea.s.suringly. "I don't want to get you into a row; if you own up freely, I won't say a word to anyone."

"Well, sir, I'll have to tell you, but for G.o.d's sake don't give me away. It isn't that I am afraid of getting the sack--although that, of course, would follow; but I've a reason for keeping it dark which you'd never guess, and which I can't tell you."

"Scarren," I rejoined with solemn severity, "you'll have to tell me _all_ about it, mind that. I shall not stick to my promise if you keep a single word back. Speak up at once, or else look out."

He went quietly to the doorway and looked out to see that no one was listening. Then he carefully closed the door, after which he returned on tiptoe to the corner where I was standing with a stern visage but a triumphant heart.

"It was old Isaac, right enough--"

"Scarren," I exclaimed with indignation, "don't try that on with me."