Page:Weird Tales Volume 2 Number 2 (1923-09).djvu/62

Rh there listening I could hear my heart beating a tattoo against my ribs.

"I slept no more that night. At the slightest sound a cold sweat would break out over my entire body. How I passed the night without losing my mind, God only knows."

The speaker paused. His face was chalky. He buried his face in his hands, shuddering, while I rose and threw another log on the fire.

Outside, the wind still howled, monotonously, eerily. Then came my friend’s voice again, dead, cold.

"With the first faint streak of dawn I was dressed. As I walked out of the house I felt like a craven coward, afraid of the shadows that still lurked in the fence corners. By walking I thought I could throw off the feeling that still had hold of me. All day I walked, never stopping once to get a bite to eat, for my one impulse was to get away from the haunting fear that possessed me. When at last, towards evening, I stopped to get my bearings, I found by some trick of fate I was standing within a stone’s throw of the tent that held the thing I feared. What made me go to take another look at the hideous brute, I do not know, hut I bought a ticket and went in.

"As I came within sight of its cage, I could feel the blood drain from my face. I shook from head to foot. The cage was empty! With a voice that shook I asked one of the attendants what had become of the beast that had occupied the cage the day before. He informed me that it had escaped that night. Glancing back at the cage I noticed the iron bars had been twisted and bent like so much lead wire. Then it dawned on me that it had made its escape the same night that I had been awakened by the cry that had almost driven me mad.

"Numb with terror I left the tent. It was just getting dark when I let myself into my rooms. Switching on the lights I pulled down the blinds, and after locking the door I felt in a small way secure. Tired, weary and foot-sore from my day of aimless wandering I disrobed and lay on the bed, too fatigued to pull down the covers and crawl beneath them. I did not switch off the lights, for I was afraid I would go mad if I could not see everything in the room.

"I soon fell into a fitful sleep. How long I slept I do not know. A crash as of breaking glass awoke me. On the instant I was out of bed and on my feet in the middle of the room. My eyes were blinded for an instant by the sudden flare of the lights that I had left burning. As I stood there blinking I was conscious of a peculiar scraping sound. As my eyes grew accustomed to the light, my gaze wandered to the window. Framed in the broken window was the huge hairy head of a gorilla! One hand was stretched out toward me as if to grasp me by the throat. The lips curled back over the yellow teeth with a throaty snarl. Thick foam dripped from the mouth covering the beast’s breast! With a sudden lunge the thing lurched forward, dragging its shoulders through the opening. The light shining on the side of the brute’s head, revealed a long scar running from the corner of its mouth straight back over the left ear. My blood surged through my veins like fire. Something in my brain snapped. With a scream I turned and tore open the door, fled down the stairs, and out into the night!

"The rest, Madden, you know as well as I do. What possessed me to come here, God only knows! I only know I ran. God, how I ran! My only thought was to get away from the horrible thing back in my room, and—and—Madden, I’m afraid—afraid!"

My companion shuddered. The firelight shone on his face, which seemed grown suddenly old and haggard. I reached for the bottle of brandy that stood on the table. A peculiar prickling sensation ran along the roots of my hair. Pouring out a stiff bracer I handed it to him, saying:

"Here, drink this and brace up. It may not be as bad as it looks."

My attempt at cheerfulness fell short, for the story my friend had just told, combined with the swish of the rain, was getting on my nerves.

He drank the brandy with a gulp. Taking a stiff nip myself, I turned to him and said:

"Now look here, Chadwick! What you need is a good night’s rest. I'll put you up in the spare room for it must be pretty late. Come on, and I'll show you where the room is."

As I finished speaking, the clock in the hall struck two. With a lurch Chadwick rose to his feet.

"All right, Madden. I hope you're right, but somehow I feel like the oriental who said, 'Who can escape his fate'."

"Forget it. Nothing can harm you here. It would take a half dozen gorillas to get into the room I am going to put you into," I replied.

Staggering like a man intoxicated, he followed me to his room, which was situated back of the library, my own being on the floor above, directly over his. I had brought the automatic with me from the library. Switching on the lights, I laid it on the chiffonier, remarking as I did so:

"There, Chadwick; that’s more than a match for a dozen animals, no matter what they are."

Giving him the key to the door, so that he could lock himself in if he wished I bade him good-night. As I mounted the stairs to my own room I heard his key grate in the lock.

It was not long from the time I entered my room until I was in bed and asleep. How long I had slept I cannot say. I was brought to my waking senses by what I thought was the report of a gun. Thinking that I had probably been dreaming, I sat up in bed and listened.

Outside, the wind still howled and shrieked, driving the rain against the window in torrents. The inky blackness was punctured now and then by the flashing of lightning. Silence so deep greeted me that my ear-drums hummed. Deciding that I had been dreaming I was about to lie down, when a scream echoed and re-echoed through the house, and brought me out of bed with a bound. Following the scream there rang out two gun shots.

Rushing out into the hall, I dashed down the stairs. The sound of violent struggling reached my ears as I missed the last two steps at the bottom of the stairs and went sprawling to the floor in the dark. Quickly regaining my feet, I rushed toward my friend’s room, whence the sound of the struggling came. As I reached the door, a shriek of mortal agony rang out, that seemed to freeze the blood in my veins. With a rush I sprang against the door in an effort to force it open. Failing in the first attempt I drew back for another rush just as another shot rang out. Terror-stricken, I flew at the door, beating upon the stout oaken panels with my bare fists, shouting:

"Chadwick—Chad—for God's sake open the door!—Chad—"

For a moment I listened. The streak of yellow that filtered through the crack beneath the door told me that his light was still burning. A peculiar scraping sound greeted my straining ears, followed by the impact of a falling body. On the instant the hall where I stood was flooded with light. Whirling, I confronted my servant standing back of me in his night clothes. His teeth were chattering, and his face was chalky white.

"Wha—wha—what is the matter, sir?" he asked.

"I don’t know yet. Help me open this door," I quickly answered.

Using our combined weights, we succeeded, after what seemed an eternity, in