Page:Weird Tales Volume 2 Number 2 (1923-09).djvu/75

74 of the guardian image, for he thought they must be large and perfect. Inadvertently, he touched the ruby push-button, and the panel slid back for an instant, and he saw the mystery.

His heart was troubled, but he did not understand what he had seen. This was because of the spell put upon him by the seer. Because he had not understood, he explored the mystery again, and the door slid back a second time. And now he knew.

The power of the incantation was exhausted, for it was purchased with stolen rupees. A veil fell away from the servant’s eyes, and he saw into the shrine with a clear brain and full understanding of what he looked upon. He knew now why poor McRae had killed himself, and why the bishop had prayed for death.

Concealing the shrine in a fold of his sash, the servant went down to the waterfront to cast it away. He stood on the wharf and watched a liner about to move away across the ocean. A great envy fell upon him of all those people, because they were ignorant of the secret hidden in the shrine, and could therefore still be happy. With this envy came also a great wave of self-pity, for the teak-wood devil was scourging his brain, and he knew that he could never smile again.

Then he took the terrible thing from his sash, to throw it into the sea. The jewels that were the eyes of the teak-wood image threw out a strange light, and an American, hurrying to board the ship, stopped with a shrill whistle, and demanded to see the curious object. The servant refused, but the American persisted, and offered much money for the treasure. The man shook his head sadly, and told the American the whole history of the shrine, as he had heard it from the bishop, even as I have repeated it to you.

The American forced into the servant’s hands a roll of bills, and rushed up the gang-plank with the shrine in his arms, for the men on the ship were calling to him. The servant waved the bills at him frantically, and struggled to follow him, but the deck-hands stopped him, the gang-plank was pulled up, and the liner moved slowly away.

The American dived into his stateroom and concealed the object in the covers of his berth. Then he returned to the deck. A crowd was gathered on the dock, and there was a great commotion, but of the bishop’s servant there was no sign. He had jumped into the sea.

The American was John Aubrey, my late master, who first told me the story of the shrine on his return from India. He told me the tale again two months ago, with madness gleaming from his eyes, and begged me to destroy the thing, to throw it into the river, to let it sink where human eyes would nevermore look upon it.

You were my master’s friend, and to you I can talk. It was this teak-wood shrine that killed him. He took it from the mantel to show it to me. Disbelieving its power, disbelieving the entire story told him by the bishop’s servant at Singapore—for he had been unable to find the hidden spring of the shrine—he suddenly, by an evil chance, pressed the ruby, and the panel slid open. He tried to prevent it from closing, and inserted the nail of his little finger, but the door slid back into place notwithstanding, after he had caught a fleeting glimpse into the very heart of the shrine.

He laughed triumphantly to think he had at last found the touch-button. He was as excited as a small boy over his discovery. That was because he did not yet know what he had seen. But soon he began to worry, and his face grew slowly more and more drawn, as the terrible truth began to take hold of his brain. His eyes filled with dread. His brows contracted in horror. He made me promise to destroy the shrine. Then he went to his room and locked the door.

I concealed the object, which I now hated with all my soul, for I wanted no more misery brought into the world by its hideous means. I was called at the inquest, with the other servants, but I told only what the others told, about how we heard the shot, and broke open the door, and found our master lying dead on the floor of his bedroom. But of the teak-wood shrine, and the hidden panel, and the fat devil with the wooden belly and the ruby eyes, I said not a word to anybody.

And then I prayed—God, how I prayed!—that unto me it might be given to release the world from this horror. Then I touched the ruby and saw what it was that the teak-wood image was guarding so complacently. It is because of my prayers that I am undergoing this life in death, this burden of misery, instead of being happy in the grave.

It must be in answer to my prayers that today I have the strength to bring the shrine to this bridge to throw it into the muddy waters. When that is done I shall be ready to die. My life is ebbing, and I am moving swiftly to my grave. I have read the teak-wood devil’s secret, and all the sweetness and light have gone from my life.

Give me back the shrine, sir, or else fling it with your own hands, at once and forever, into the blessed depths of the water. No, no, sir, you must not look for the jewel! At once, fling it, or you will be yourself its victim!

Oh, oh! You have done it! You have looked!—

What horrid sound is that?—You laugh, but that is because you do not yet know.—Now, do you begin to realize?—You know now what I have suffered. You have entered upon the path that can end only in death.

Oh, oh, oh!—Help me, you at the end of the bridge—Oh, gentlemen, hurry!—That is where they sank!—Look, they are going down for the third time! They are lost, they are gone! He and the teak-wood devil! Heaven be thanked!

And now, sirs, you may take me away—to a hospital, or an asylum for the insane. It matters not where, for my days are numbered. Nothing matters any more, for the curse of the teak-wood devil is ended. Good sirs, take me away.