The Room of Secrets

Sun (Christchurch), Volume 1, Issue 3, 9 February 1914, Page 2

The Room of Secrets

CHABACSERS IN THE STORY. SYDNEY. COLEFAX, a i'oung business man of London, who has travelled Africa. He is iritrodu'eed'-to the house of an old unkempt man, Koops, where, after strange happenings, he is entrapped ia a room which apparently contains , ■ ' the body of a dead woman. KOOPS, who, too, has travelled Africa, keeps a ■ barbaric Nubian body-ser-vant. At Colefax's introduction he forces coffee on his beautiful daughter, . , JOAN, who, on entering the room, had re- . ' ceived a mysterious' sign from Jier L father. After taking the coffee she \ ' falls into a trance. On Colefax's protest, Koops declares he is acting according to doctor's orders. Follows tho entrapping of Colef ax. CHAPTER IV. A TERRIBLE' ORDEAL. I recollect that -my eager, nervous •fingers tried in vain to unfasten the tiny chain from the, cold dead neck. The horror of the ' situation had gripped my s&nses. In the darkness all was. weird and puzzling; for in an instant' there had flashed across my mind the grim fact that I had been entrapped in that place with eyil intent. . My right arm —the arm with the punctured finger—was already stiff and \ ■ paralysed, paining me intensely; while, as I put forward my hands to ascertain the extent of the place I had by chance discovered and entered, I had only clutched the air. I tried to shout, but, alas! no sound passed my lips. I felt myself losing all my muscular power. Half my body seemed cramped and paralysed, I experienced a strange, hideous sensation of being stifled. Shooting through my body were excruciating pains, no doubt caused by that '.-needle , so ih.- _ genioiisly concealed in the bell -push. 3 felt myself losing consciousness, arid though my hand was upon that, tiny ~ cftiin, yet it was so .paralysed '.that Y I , was unable to withdraw it. 7,, , j J?y dint pf supreme effort I,managed ,to half raise myself from my crouching position, but next second '..{liel blackness of unconsciousness ihijist have fallen upon.me. ,',..,',. What actually happened immediately '. afterwards I have no klea. v All I know is that the period of senselesgnpss must /,' °llave been a very brief one",: for, w,hen-J '*;' ppenocl my eyes I found .nlyself in the ', room wherein hung those realistic pictures. The lights had been switched cm. I' was seated in a chair, and be- , lore the. evil, grinning face <, of the gigantic Nubiany' '.'His head was ✓ • close to • mine, and he-was*, gazing intently into my face, his eyes yellow and bloodshot, his white behind ';* " Jips".. parted, in \ , as * from - his jmduth there canie%raeep grunt "of sjitis- .§ ' .factions >■'■.;; "■/ ■ \ ■,•-, \. V' '■■ y>, L.: I iriedi to speak, to. pfoteit, but my | iongue refused to. articulate I endea-

(By WILLIAM QUEUX.)

[COPYRIGHT.]

vowed to rise, but though I was now perfectly conscious I found I could not move a muscle. I sat there dazed, fascinated, unable to stir. My heart seemed strangely affected. It beat quickly, then suddenly stopped, and I had a distinct, despairing feeling that I was breathing my last. I waited in agony —the agony of death —for the pulsation to be renewed* • Then again my heart would beat quickly for some moments, and again cease, causing me the most terrible tension. I Vas experiencing a slow agonising death. My eyes were affected, my throat contracted, my tongue paralysed so that I was unable to articulate any sound other than a groan. I sat in that chair at the mercy of my captors. 'Still entirely conscious, I at first '•wondered whether the whole thing :were not a dream. So ghastly and unreal did it seem. But, alas! it was all ► too much of an actuality. By accident I had discovered the igriin secret of that room. My spirits sank, and hope departed, for I knew, alas! that very fact that caused my death-sentence." My eyes wandered round those walls covered by the hideous pictures. Behind which one of them was concealed that grim evidence of a crime?; ;I averted my gaze from the Arab's horrid face, and tried to decide whiph picture it was that had given way beneath my touch. But as I did so my heart again ceased its beating, and I felt myself slowly sinking. Ah, the agony of those seconds was indescribable. Each moment I waited, believing the next to be my last. Could it be that the needle so cunningly concealed in that fatal bell-push now before my eyes had contained some baneful drug which had produced this terrible effect upon me? Ibrahim laughed aloud, a hoarse, high-pitched laugh of triumph, f and then, for the I realised that a little to n}y left w#s a canvas upon a painter f behind which someone, was mo*ing| rapidly. | i '-> ~> Karl was 5 -busily depicting] my, agony, painting m# in the actual tl|roes of death! \ : - s * , | ! '■'■ I -tried'jtffii shiiek, but no sdkrnd escaped-me. My..'position was on| | of utter helplessness. | ; -'•>■ That poor ..dead-unknown woman Concealed behind , the wainscoting-fthe woman my hariVt had felt —had been lias victim immediately- ; preceding I, toOj was doomed! ■ ii 3' T know that, .with my heart falling and so slowly recovering, my eouateitiK ance must' 'have' been convulsed! ')isi< agony, and terl'or..: Indeed, I cpuht watch it in, a, .jnarrow strip of loollingri glass which" was' let into each ornalnpli tal side of the fireplace. I caugl|t: &, glance off it and was horrified, j * j .f). Into whatever trap I had falien! Oiael thing was 'eeVtainly plain—that tihkt& was no escape. The old man with* ihfi strange, intense eyes had.the deliberate intention that'l should die, and vfijile I slowly, passed into the Beyond hefwas faithfully depicting. with the hand of

a genius the agony of my features. Did each of those weird pictures around the walls represent a victim? The men and women were of all ages, and all classes. That room was, indeed, a room of seerets, a chamber* of human agony, terror, and death. Suddenly my heart failed again, and I waited —waited second after second v each seeming an hour —but the pulsartion was not renewed! I felt any self sinking into unconsciousness. My 'strength was slowly being sapped by the drug that had been injected into my veins. Each time my heart stopped beating the interval before the resumption of : its functions was becoming more and more prolonged. ; • The end had come! My'lieart had ceased for ever. I was dying! I gasped for air, and my brain reeled. All my past came up before me; I sat rigid, fascinated. In an instant the Nubian, who had been watching me most intently, placed something beneath my nose—a small ■piece of sponge saturated with some pungent strong-smelling liquid. This I was forced to inhale—once, twice, j thrice. At first the fumes seemed choking, as though of sulphur, but slowly my heart, stimulated by its action, resumed i its beating. I was alive again. Could mortal man pass through any ' ordeal more awful than this! Across my fevered > brain flashed the ! recollection of all the strange adventures of that memorable night—the encounter with the mysterious Koop as he had pass/xl in the taxi eagerly eyeing me; the meeting with little Jessie, the discovery of Koop at home, and the introduction to Joan—that poor girl who was so completely in his unscrupidous hands. Why had that coffee been - forced upon her? What deleterious drug had it contained? Was she now lying insensible in the little smoking-room below ? Without a doubt that unfortunate girl was well aware of the mad crimes of her father, and her senses were frozen;by the horror of it all, the dread of discovery and exposure of the hideous truth. Perhaps the production of that tiny coffee-cup was, to her, sign that I was to fall a victim that night. The weird thought impressed itself i upon me. I now saw the reason of her alarm when her father had told her that I had taken coffee, the motive of her refusal to drink until forced to do so by the old man's threat, of exposur* —exposure of. what? ••>.■■>. I could only suppose that Jessie and the girl Smith were in entire-ignorance of the terrible secrets-xjf; that upper room- which .the 'old. man kept so securely locked. 'i' ; Though , unable- to .turn my head, I could, nevertheless) -see that Koop was busy with, brush and, palette, no doubt painting another to addifro. his hideously vivid tableaux. He -was* a man whose fiendish delight was in :human suffering. He had lied to me when he had r attributed those awe-inspiring pictures to Gustave Eameau, and had;also me when he had told me. that he wa# head of the firm of Ryder Brothers. ■ Was it not strange that : I, ,who had [So often travelled iniperil in the heart, ) of Africa, and passed • unharmed .through countries of hostile natives,' should- have allowed: myself to be so ingeniously entrapped, in rthe very heart ,of London? ; • • Lsaw it all quite plainly now. -Koop luv", by some strange ■• tand unknown 'means, secretly marked me down as his victim, and had taken little Jessie in

a taxi ahead of me and deposited her in Gloucester Place. In returning in the taxi we had encountered each other. Then he had driven home to await his victim. How often, I wondered, had that same trick been played! How often had little Jessie been lost in London—and how many times had unsuspecting persons brought her home and thus been lured to death! The thing was too terrible to contemplate. I gazed around upon those pictures of distorted faces of men and women, old and young, even children, and I sat staggered in horror. Did each represent a similar crime ¥ The discovery I had ', made was astounding. If revealed to the public it would surely create a sensation greater than any in the present century. Many brutal and terrible crimes have been unearthed by the Criminal Investigation Department, but surety nothing to equal this fiendish delight in dying models had eyer been discovered. Ibrahim stood beside me, his eyes never leaving mine-—waiting with sponge in : hand to revive me if my heart should fail before.the .old man had completed the rapid sketch he was making with such a master-hand. The fumes from the drug with which the sponge was saturated he allowed to slowly ascend V> my nostrils, and by breathing them I was certainly afforded much relief. But if he left me, then I knew that in a few brief moments I must certainly pass into the Unknown. Filled with fierce anger at Koop 's criminal ingenuity, at the cleverness with which the trap had been baited, and afthe inhuman treatment of poor Joan, I sat with teeth tightly clenched, struggling to rise, and yet unable to move a single muscle save those of the .eyes. ■ Could the position of any man have been more terrible, more agonising, more completely hopeless? Again, of a sudden, my heart ceased, refusing to further pulsate. J And again did that thick-lipped Nubian with the ugly cicatrice on his cheek 'press the sponge against my nosti'ils. Then ence more I revised slowly and gainfully, yet with an inert weakened feeling that such a process could not again be repeated. Yes. I was dying. Those men were apparently delighting in the prolongation of my deathstruggle. I could never have believed . that such fiends as these existed in a quiet, respectable thoroughfare in the West; of London.' * H It has been said, and with a good deal of truth, that one is safer at night in the African wilds than in our own metropolis. In th-"i latter a thousand, and one-pitfalls certainly •await the unwary. -.-•.., <'-\- " ''■'''■' •Koop, his eyes aglow-—rwith the fire of insanity, I believe—canre from behis easel, his palette £nd" brush still-In his hand, and, receding a few paces, regarded me critically as I sat tlvere. in. that, carved, Florentine chair. He surveyed :hiy, face for 'some-seconds, his long ,< grCy head , slightly inclined, as though' 'satisfying 1 himself;/ that he had '_cau.gh.tj "the cor- . recti'expression of my agony! -a- ■■■ > I tried to" rise, to t myself fiercely,'upon him, but I still ;.paralysed.' My .limbs were- cold- as in the'dullness of death. ! •;>'!'. few moments he^r^tireldl again Sbehind-his easel arid put on,a few.finishing > touches- to his picture. Then he ■ once 'more came forth, having laid d,own his palette, and remarked to Ibra- ; him in a low, hard -voice,' as he looked' at hie:

"I have finished —and only just in time, apparently." Then, with a grin, he added: "We shall have a double quantity of baggage tomorrow." "Yees, master," the big Nubian responded in that high-pitched voice common, .to his race. . ...„. , • Once again f' tried" to speak* but in my effort my heart ceased its beating. Would Ibrahim now apply that blessed restorative? I waited, all anxiety. "No! He turned from me, and silently followed his master out of the room. I heard a sharp click as the lights were switched off. Then the door was closed, and I knew that I was left alone in the darkness—left alone to die! CHAPTEE V. STRANGE FACTS ARE REVEALED. "Come along! Wake up—wake up! How do you feel?" The words, hazy and recalled me to a dim half-consciousness. Through a kind of mist I realised that I was lying in a brilliantly-lit room with white shiny walls. Besides me were a doctor in a white linen jacket and a pretty dark-haired nurse in a pink dress, white apron, and cap. It was the doctor who kept repeating his questions. He was a youngish man with twinkling eyes and a merry, easygoing expression—a man who looked young, but who probably had had a big experience. Behind him stood a porter in uniform, together with a policeman, who held his helmet in his hand. "■Why!" I managed to gasp at last. "Why!" —-and I looked around quite dazed—i-"where am I?" "You're in Charing Cross, my dear chap," replied the doctor. "And we're looking after you. What's the matter? How. do you feel? Been out ; on the tiles all night—eh?" "I—l feel horribly bad," I declared, '' I 've had a most awful experience.'' "A good many people,,do after they've taken a glass too much," replied the doctor humorously. "I haven't taken anything," I declared, raising myself upon my elbow and finding myself upon a worn couch of brown leather. "What has happened? Tell me. How did I. get here?" And my eyes fixed themselve? upon a row of big bottles of antiseptics upon a shelf opposite. '' I found you, sir—on a seat, oh the Embankment, opposite the f 'jSavoy Hotel, ", ( replied the constable.. .. "AmJ. believed you to be drunk," added,' t%Q, doctor. *.!. sir, I thought you, were, and we took you to Bow Street on the ambulance. But you looked a bit queer,;* so 1 we brought'you on ■'ere to the .'ospital," "And a- good job you. did,, constable,", replied the doctor. "Ij confess , I ijhought at first he'd, r been drinking.. But I see I'm mistaken." "I was; poisoned," I managed to declare. ~,,-■ '„" ' . "Poisoned! How?" , , "',,' "I—l'll tell you when I feel betjter,',', I sa}d-,r,i "But how did I,get, to the I was ivp ( in Bayswater,'':'., J*, declared, in amazemenp. "Thjijt| I can't tell you, : siiv„' All I know;'ji$ fl that I found you clos^py,-Cleo-patra ,'s. Needle at" four-twenty., .There were, several homeless ones around you, and I came up to see what was the matter. A young man in the crowd seemed' to know something. He told some funny story about you ' being lifted out of a motor car and put down

against the Embankment' wall. But I thought you were drunk, so I took no notice of what was said. We often hear ridiculous stories from bystanders." "That man was probably right!" I cried. "Somebody must have moved pe from that house of terrors in Bayswater. " "A pity you didn't get the man's name, constable," the doctor remarked, taking a medicine glass with some mixture in it, and saying '. to me: "Here, drink this, and you'll feel better. You seem to have had a pretty bad shock, anyhow." I swallowed the- dose and lay back again in wonder. "I tell you," I said with as much force as I could muster, "I have been the victim of foul play. If you could only discover the man who made that statement he might be able to give a description of the car." . " I think, constable, that it would be wise to make some immediate enquiry," remarked the doctor. "The same people will certainly still be hanging about the Embankment if you went down there at once. It was hardly an hour ago." "Yes, do," I urged earnestly. "I can't tell you everything yet, -.but—only I've discovered a terrible crime—a murder!" "Murder!" ejaculated both the doetor and the constable. "Yes. Find the man who saw me put out of the car unconscious, and we may be able to solve the mystery." "Where was it?" asked the constable. "You say you were in Bayswater. " '." "When you find the witness I will tell you everything," I said. "Quick, there "s no time to lose. It is never easy to re-discover a bystander in London." "But, fortunately, it is not yet morning," remarked the doctor; and then, urged by us all, the constable put on his helmet and went out in search of the loafer iwho had witnessed my arrival upon the Embankment in the quarter -where outcasts congregate. "Well," remarked the doctor, who; in reply to my question, informed me that his name was Henshaw, "tell me exactly how you felt," and he stood holding my wrist and looking intenth into my face. "My limbs seemed paralysed, am; yet I retained all my senses," I replied "The sensation, was most extraordin ; ; ary. My heart stopped beating, and .1 was.time after time slowly dying when suddenly the pulsations were and I breathed again—a most horrible experience Of prolonged death." "And you could not speak—couh; not move a muscle? Your limbs wei'.' cold and 'your throat contracted. Buj you were' quite conscious, in extreme pain,- and at the same time transfixed by horror—eh?" ~. "Exactly the symptoms!" I cried' "Tell me, to what was it all due?" Henshaw remained thoughtful for ~£> few moments, then carefully examined my eyes, mouth and finger-nails. "H'm,'' he grunted to himself, % > though satisfied that he had diagnose-;: my case correctly, and, turning on hi.y heel, he left me with the nurse. „, "He'll-be,{back in a few moments,.'' she explainedsplensantly. "He's only gone to the dispensary." , When he returned, he held in his hand a sraall hypodermic needle charged with.some drug,. uuA this l>e in serted, into my arm, and with it gaveme an injection, saying:

■ ■."That ought- to "buck you up again.." "But have I,.been poisoned, do you* think?" I asked. . "I certainly believe you have," was. the doctor's frank reply 1 , as he stood with his.hands in the.-pockets of his white jacket. : "The drug; used was no doubt veratrine'—an- alkaloid of veratrine, cevadine and cevadilline—which would produce all the symptoms you describe. With .a sufficient dose the motor-muscles are rapidly paralysed and the heart-museles acted upon in a -. peculiar manner: —namely, every beat is prolonged very markedly, and the victim, feeling his heart stop, and yet being in full possession of his senses, waits in agony for the next beat, thinking that every second must be his last. The pain' is also very intense, and ultimately the respiratory tract is affected and death occurs from asphyxia. It is a very terrible death, the periods of muscular contraction being greatly prolonged, and yet the brain is intensely active all the time." ; 'JJlfhenl had a narrow squeak— eh?'' I asked. "A.very narrow one, I should say," was Henshaw's reply. "iSdeed, I'm rather surprised that you recovered—unless an antidote had been administered. •■■ But that could hardly* be. Who was the person who poisoned-'you with such a little-known drug? He must possess a good deal of medical knowledge." ■ ■"■;.■'.' .' "He's a man who entrapped me by a clever device which marks him as an ingenious and cunning criminal pf ano mean order—a device so entirely unsuspicious that it was bound' to sue 1 eeed. Indeed, it would hardly be possible to. fail." '- "': Then, feeling much better after the briefly related to him my strange, startling adventures, much as •I have, already set them down in the . foregoing pages. :. He, sat and listened intently, both nurse and porter highly interested in my extraordinary narrative. • ' Yet, for the first time, I realised, by Henshaw's look of incredulity, that when I spoke the truth I would not be believed. My story was far too extraordinary. I saw that the description of my meeting with little Jessie, my sympathy with the child's distress, and its weird result, were regarded more as a dream than a reality. Dr Henshaw was a man of hard facts. f -"D'ealinfg as he did with patients suffering I! _.'from l»very -ill to which the was heir at all hours of the day and night, and with inenand women .who were •'dying, 'and with those ,Whp' : cleverly, feigned illness 1 in "order to'-get'a Right's lodging, he always reduced 'everything to plain, solid fact. Romarice'is! not 'part of a reTigion, atfediby the smile that played''about his •tips' I' saw clearly that he^'regarded ny words as the wild fantasy of-a!-dis-ordered imagination. Wlien'";'!' spoke of the weird pictures in rr th^ : ropm of ;ecretS ri and of how my '-'fingers bad touched that cold dead face; h'e eudflenly'- exclaimed^. "■ ""* r,;? "Come, come, my dear really the- or are yoU' , pii*-tr'ng mv "Tells me, - Vou? Where do you-Mve?" - ---^ "I'm Sidney Colefax, and' J FlfTo in lermyn" Stree'lv' ,; '-» s>.H "Oh, do too?" he latfgfJga*. B "-'- ,: > you'-JfetiVt'ffijJ?".. I *Ti(jd angrily;.':n<- '•<■>'■ ■*<■? ■•'•**>'>■ Well l th<Mftf«>t i.!erliy.ps s '^()ii v nnglit live in a eub'u*!v? in a' Hftt-vt.jfm ;! '?f)fee—• that's n'M. Sorry >f 4 'n> ' .. -'fTo be coiitnin(>'*{ to ; n?d'rr'oTv!)