A TERRIBLE REVENGE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11562, 28 January 1901, Page 3

A TERRIBLE REVENGE.

! AftE3 the discussion on a certain story told ' ; br tho American had .: reached dissolution "point i from sheer want of coherence, : ' I observed that the doctor— still standing in his usual place by. the fire—was jot&yi;,- into the embers instead of warming his oii*t-fails: at them. This fact, and the expression of his face, convinced me that he had forgotten the present in some past experience. ..-.;•"' '.'/"■ }■ "■.:'- i l,, ■" "Tho doctor remembers a story," I said. He scoked up with a smile. "'T must have a transparent face," he said ; "'oat you are right. Anderson aphorism, " that ' there is nothing in the world that is at all possible that has not happened, or is not happening, in London,' brought hack to my mind a most extraordinary incident in my early career. It is such a terrible tale ■ of horrible revenge and fantastic crime that I was debating whether I should be justified in recalling the circumstances to your memory. However, I will have to tell mj- j talo like the Ancient Mariner; and if in so doing I give you the 'creeps' -I can't hdp | it." ' . I He was so long settling himself in a'chair j and poking the fire that our attention had begun to waver, when his opening words startled us into renewed curiosity. ."I dm' suppose that many of J on re " \ member the Ashley Mansion mystery of 1 187—. At that time I had just started in my j first practice, and, had many leisure hours { at my disposal, otherwise this fcue might J never have been told. / ii " I was sitting :n my study oae summer evening, when, happening to gUnce oiit of the window, my attention was attracted by J a gentleman hurrying down the .street. After t passing the window ho hastily ascended the j steps in front of m? street doer, apparently I with the intention of paying lie a visit. I I waited for a few minutes, and then, as no- I body appeared, I locked out of the window | a<min, just in time to catch sight of the 5 gentleman descending the ste?s as rapidly as I he had come up Then. - He walked quickly fl away a few yards, and then stopping alto- | gether, seemed incline! to cane back. Sud- g denly, 'in one of his eye-exclusions, he saw jj me at the window. He tuned, and appa- I rently feeling himself commitied to a course, | came up the steps and was sion standing in i my presence. , | . . | " ' Dr. Harrison, I presumi?' ho said, in i a nervour and excited manier. I bowed. I He fidgeted with his glove foia moment. Jj "' My name is Crawdor—Thomas Craw- £ dor.' I : I "'Pray take a seat,' I repied, placing ap chair. j | "Ho drew a newspaper fnm his pocket g and began: i I: ." ' I wish to take your advre in a matter f of terrible interest to me. Ton may have | heard of the sudden death a] Ashley Man- i fiions this morning?' | | "'l'have seen the report h the evening | paper.' i „ . 1 "'Quite so. The deceased gentleman is S my brother, Henry Crawdoi, bate of San | Francisco. He came home sone two months £ ago and went to lodge witli an old-time | friend at Ashley Mansions. 2e had made a I piL in the States, and had cane to England I to enjoy the rest of his days. Why he went j to live with Fraser is a mjstery to me. \ Fraser and -he were great friends at one i time, but they quarrelled. It was over a 1 lady, of course, and she preferred Harry to I the other. Naturally Fraser was terribly ? angry, and threatened to be avenged some | day. I I "'My brother laughed at the threats, but his wife took them more Seriously. She g knew the other's temporanent, and was ( anxious. At length she periuaded her bus- 1 band to leave England and go abroad. He j accordingly went to San Frincisco and pros-1 percd. Some two years ajo his wife died, » and he determined to return to England as c soon as his business afftirs could be ar- | ranged. In the meantime Eraser wrote to « him, entreating him to let bygones be by-1 gones, and inviting him to visit Ashley Man-1 sions when in England. Harry was always I of a forgiving nature, hating to lie at vari-1 ance with any person in the world. So he l accepted Fraser's offers of friendship, and { when he came home he went to live at l Fraser's - house. Fraser, I may toll you, j never married. | "'I did not like Harry going, there. Ijj could not believe that Fraser had _ entirely | forgotten his threats of revenge. I implored | my brother to be careful, but he laughed at | my fears. Eraser was a jolly fellow, he said, | and at last "I gave way, much against my | will.', •„ t . ~i, { - -.---- -. ml ' § ""'My visitor paused for ,a minute. Then B he continued : — ■ ••■. | "'And now my fears have proved to be | only too true. Fraser sent a note this morn- 1 ing telling me that Harry had been found | dead in bed. I went round to Ashley Man- | sions at once. I learned that my brother | had been, found dead in bed about an hour | before. I went up to his room and looked | at the body. The corpse was livid, and jj contorted to" an unusual degree. I carefully jj examined the room for trace of poisons, but B could find nothing. Fraser had hastily sum-§ moned a doctor, who gave it as his opinion B that my brother had died from blood-poison-1 ing. I can tell you no more. I am almost | distracted. I am positive that Harry came I to his end by foul means, yet I can see no | clue. I .want you to come with me and g examine the body. I have obtained per- 1 mission for you to do so.' | "I had listened patiently to the somewhat g prolonged and rambling narrative of my visi- | tor. He had now walked to the door, and | Btood, hat in hand, waiting for me. | ■ '"■-...- " The body lay on the bed in a corner of | the tastefully furnished room. To all ap-§ pearances the man had been dead for some § twenty hours. The corpse was livid and | dreadfully contorted. Death must have oc- 1 curred amid strong convulsions. I examined I the body and came to the conclusion that rf my fellow doctor's opinion was right. Blood- 8 poisoning it was, but how Crawdor had con- 1 tracted it, since there was no trace of vio- H lence or injury of any kind upon the body, 8 I could not imagine. Again, the illness | must have supervened very rapidly, as the 1 deceased was in excellent health the. day} before. ,v i "I obtained permission to mako a post- 1 mortem examination. In addition to • the I usual characteristics of blood-poisoning an- 1 other puzzling feature of the case was re-, vealed. The body was singularly bloodless, S and yet of hemorrhage, external or internal, Q there was no sign. This condition is quite | .unusual in cases of blood-poisoning, unless. | of course, it can be traced to some specifics injury, of which in this instance there was g no indication. I made investigation for the | presence of poisons, but failed to produce g any result. I was puzzled, baffled. The | other doctor worried over and finally | {fare it us. § "At the inquest the jury returned what g might be called an open verdict, and the 1 matter was for the present relocated to the | list of unsolved mysteries. Still, my curio- 1 sity had been aroused, and I puzzled over | the case for many hours, evolving many fan- g tastic clues to the mystery, only to reject | them as utterly improbable. A day or so S after the inquest I went with, the dead 8 ! man's brother to take possession of belong- j ' rags of the deceased. The room had been | locked and sealed when the body was re-tf moved. Everything was therefore practically in the same condition as on the night of the j mysterious death. "My friena first proceeded to collect the a hooks and papers. I sauntered slowly round j : the room. ' I was standing by the window g looking across at the bed when a sudden | thought passed through my mind. At the side 'of the bed was a bell-rope, running up j, to a ventilator placed near the ceiling. J I .glanced at the rope and wondered at ._; its | : size and strength. Then my eyes wandered l ' to the ventilator. That, too, was of an unusual ske, and I was mizzled at its use. ■ It could only communicate with some other . ■ room " I : "A stray sheet of paper from a pile col- j lecterl bv'my companion fluttered to my feet. I picked it up. On it was written, in a firm hand: 'July 16—Carpenter finished fixing ventilator in room. Fraser says smell will he abated.' Evidently a note by the dead 3 ■ man.' , , . I ■ "I went across to the bed and examined 1 the rope. Half-wav m I detected several " Jong, blank, glistening hairs— or rather g '; .spines, so horny were thev at their base. • I j Was nuzzling over them when I suddenly be- j '■'■"'came aware of an insufferable smell, an rend, I penetrating stench, whollv unlike anything g ' -_ I had ever experienced. I put my nose to | the rone and discovered that the smell cirne j from that. I climbed upon the bed, find with * the aid of a chair" reached the ventilator. It ] was rinsed, but the stench was much worse, j Again I noticed a little discoloration on the g surface of the apparatus; a faint trail of g some slimv. bluish matter, unctuous and fi odorous. I fried to force the ventilator | ; open, but failed. ■';.-''- j 'My companion had been- watching me in J astonishment. He inquired what I had dis- j covered. I replied that I wanted to know \ what the ventilator opened on to. just a s fatter of enriositv. Before leaving the h'-'c, S ' I contrived to question the ser- jj who occupied the room opposite to the \ . , one wo had just vacated. Her reply con- a Jnced me that I was on the right track. | bu ' I did not say anything to Crawdor. I 8 ■*** pulled; yet I was confident that the | Kpeatid ventilator had had something to do.| SJli the death of Mr. Henry Crawdor. ri T Late that night I went out for a stroll. g 1 > * Was sauntering slowly along, deeply en- B -W^&iW-K '-'-'-:. •-■■ ,-■::■:-:■;--1:>"-'; '. ■&'-:;::;: ■■-'.-:.-.;':■v.:/-;-.

I gaged in evolving clues to my mystery, as I had begun to term it, when I was suddenly stopped by a smell or odour. In an instant, in imagination, I was standing in a room at Ashley Mansions. I looked at the shop. It seemed to be a general repository of every- ! thing, Mansions. I looked at Birds, 'beasts, seemed to be a general repository of everything, human and inhuman. Birds, 'beasts, fishes, and monstrosities of all nations filled the windows, and I caught a glimpse of an . interior, dark and dismal, out of which 1 peered unique and grotesque specimens of § fantastic nature. I ■■'■'" My curiosity was instantly aroused. I 1 entered the shop, and a portly gentleman § toddled forth to meet me. I made some inI quiry about a specimen in the window. >He 1 was.voluble, and I followed up the opening | skilfully. 'What an awful stench,' I ob--1 served. 'Yes, sir,' replied the old man, I laughing; ' how would you like to spend a I week with Mygale. Not pleasant, eh V 'My--1 gale,' I said. ' What kind of a creature is I tiat ?' ' Oh, a bonny gentleman, I tell you. I A bonny gentleman. If you have a 1 few minutes to spare - and would like Ito see a real novelty, you may come ! with me. It is not very often that !we have a real novelty like this.' I followed him down the stairs into a sort of cellar. " The faint rays of a lantern carried by my guide fell upon the cage, some sft in length, which rested on the floor. It was about 4-ft high, and was. partly boarded in, making a, little retreat for its occupant. Around this there hung some thick festoons of a glisteni ing, gummy substance, yellow in colour. j "Ah!' said my friend, gentleman gone ;to bed; will have to entice him out.' He produced a small bird of some kind from an adjacent box, opened a little door in the cage and thrust the bird in. The little creature, dazed for a moment by the light, fluttered to the end of the cage and clung to the bars. Tho next instant I sprang back in alarm. Out of the darkness there rushed a something; a something that clambered up the bars and bore the bird, now piping j shrilly, to the floor—all in the flash of an j eyelid. I "How can 1 describe it?" Even now I shudder at the memory of that 'sight. On j the floor of the cage, regarding us with j steely eyes, stood an enormous spider, its J misshapen body—large as a saucer— on sprawling, muscular limbs, curved like t those of a crab. The talons wore formidable, f hooked, and covered to the extremity with lustrous, horn-like spines. Presently it rose" over its victim, and the abdomen, swollen j and blotched with vellow patches, like a patchwork quilt, trailed on the ground. It must have stood over 4-in in height. It turned and dragged its hideous length to the covered portion of the cage, leaving on the floor a blue and slimy trail. " I turned away and stumbled up the dark stairs. My portly friend followed more slowly. 'Not a very nice companion,' he observed. I muttered something and stood by the door to collect my thoughts. At last I said, with an attempt at a laugh, 'Excuse me, but it was too horrible. Whatever is the thing?' "The portly one waddled to the door and replied: ' The mygale, sir, is a species of bird-eating spider, peculiar to equatorial forests. It is very, very rare, and I doubt if any other dealer in England has had two specimens through his hands in the course of a. few months, as I have had.' " He was a well-informed, communicative old chap, and told me much more about his dreadful possession. I cannot remember half he said. My brain was in a whirl. Fortunately, I retained sufficient presence of mind to inquire what had become of the other spider. He had sold it, so he told me. 1 I said I should like to know the name and J address of the owner of such a unique pet. | He replied, without hesitation: 'His name is Eraser: but I don't know where he liver-,.' j

I turned away and hurried up the streetIt was too horrible to talk about. Some words of the old man rang in my ears. ' You see, sir, the spider first poisons its victims and then sucks the blood. I have heard that its bite would kill a man without leaving a scar or trace of any kind.' " How I got homo I know not. The next thing I distinctly remember is going with the brother of the murdered man and two policemen to Ashley Mansions. Alas! the bird had flown. By some moans or other Fraser had become aware that he was suspected. He had disappeared. When we gained admission to his bedroom, which adjoined the room occupied by the ill-fated Crawdor, no words of mine were necessary to solve the mystery of the unfortunate man's, death. "In one corner of the room was a replica of the cage I had seen in the dealer's cellar. It was not quite so; dirty and evil-smelling, perhaps, and it. differed in one respect. Tho inmate was dead, killed by a blow from the poker, which lay on the top of tho case. The stench was almost overpowering. ] "We questioned the servants. They declared that the box had arrived a day or j so before tho death of poor Crawdor. Fraser j had explained that it contained some valu- j able specimens. He pretended to be in- j terested in some science—murder, I should j imagine. The servants had not been allowed j to enter his room while the mysterious box j remained there. Indeed, the place was kept j closely locked, Fraser stating that the smell would pass away in the course of a few days. "I carefully examined the rope leading to the ventilator. It was discoloured in pl stained with blood, we subsequently discovered— and I found some more of the peculiar hairs. Therefore, it must, after all. have been an easy matter for the revengeful Fraser to despatch the unsuspecting Crawdor. He had only to allow his terrible pet to fast for a day or two, and then, while the drugged man slumbered heavily in the next room, to leave the ventilator open and the box door unfastened. . ' , .. . -u "The rest can be imagined; it cannot be described.'

"And what became of Fraser?" asked someone- . , , "Fraser was never discovered. He doubtless left the country, and has probably since that time become 'known to the police under another name abroad. Perhaps he has even been hanged, and, if so, there was no miscarriage of justice."