THE ROOM OF SECRETS.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 144134, 2 July 1913, Page 5

THE ROOM OF SECRETS.

BY WILLIAM LE QUEX,

CHAPTER 111. (continued).

Two more flights we ascended until, from the tbivd-Uoor landing, he ushered me into a small oblong room, where, on switching on the electric lights, shaoed upon tho wall, there • were revealed twenty or so very-fine large oil paintings, so weirdly realistic that they at once reminded me of those in the Wicrtz Museum in Antwerp. Most of the subjects were most gruesome and horrible, depicting human pain and suffering and the agony of death ; others were full of grim humour, all being, no’ doubt, tho work of some crazy artist, the amazingly clever productions of unbalanced genius. “Really!” I exclaimed in quick surprise, as I glanced around the cosy room which, carpeted in grey, was filled with dainty furniture, with a few low lounge-chairs like a lady’s salon. “These are, indeed, wonderful—most terrible realisml” “Yes, are they not?” And he smiled with an air of supreme satisfaction. “The conception of the subject—alas I shows insanity in its worst and most dangerous form. Poor Gustavo Rameau, the young Frenchman who painted died only six months-ago in the criminal lunatic asylum at Toulon. Ho killed his pretty wife in Marseilles in a most brutal manner. But what an artistic genius lie was ! Look at his work ! Is it not marvellous?” 1 crossed the soft, pale-grey carpet to more minutely,examine a picture of the head of a beautiful fair-haired girl, whose white throat was being held tightly in the grip of the two sinewy brown hands of a negro. The brutal hands were strangling her, and the expression in those bloodshot eyes starting from her head was horrible in the extreme, and yet so real, that the head stood forth from the canvas like life/ itself. , , r As I looked, Koop standing behind/ me, the room became of a sudden filled with an intense bine light—rays of electricity seemed to flash across it. But only for a second. Then they dis- | appeared. Thrice were they repeated, accompanied by a strange loud crackling, sucji as I had heard on board ship emitted from tho wireless-telegraph instruments.. That girl's face fascinated me. but suddenly, startled by the electricity, I turned to speak with Koop, when, to my utter amazement, I found that he had noiselessly disappeared. f walked towards tho closed door, over which hung a heavy portiere curtain of dark claret-coloured velvet. Then I turned the handle and found, to my astonishment, that it was locked! What could it mean ? Was it really possible that I had been entrapped there by a lunatic? The situation I seemed to grow ludicrous. Again I gazed around the room, when next instant I realised in horror that the distorted countenance was actually that qf Joan. The strong, brown, murderous hands were those of Ibrahim! 1 Joan had actually sat for that terrible picture! flow bad the mad artist obtained tho expression of dying agony and Asphyxiation? , ' t Locked in“that place as I was, rreturned to the door, liammering and shouting angrily. Could it be that Karl Koop was a criminal lunatic himself? Was it his own hand that had painted those- strangely weird, and terrible scenes of human suffering in all its phases? I glanced around me,'.horrified. With what motive had I been entrapped there?' For entrapped I certainly was! 'Across to the window I dashed, and, tearing the long red velvet curtain aside,■ tried to open it. But the sash had been screwed securely down. Peering forth, 1 saw that I was high up, and, being on a corner, commanded a view of the roadway with the end of a square dim in the fog. Between the house I was in and the next—which stood on the corner—was a- high wall with a wide gateway, enclosing a large courtyard, so that I also obtained n misty view of the backs of the first three houses which, attached to each other, seemed to form the commencement of another square or crescent. Having, thus taken ray bearings, which, unfortunately, were very indistinct owing to the fog. I. turned from, the. window to cross tho room where, beside the fireplace, I saw a small ivory bell-button; ' yet the instant I had touched it the lights were switched off, and I found myself in total darkness. Ac I pressed tho button I had felt a sharp, painful prick in my index finger. To mo it seemed as though a needle protruding from the centre of that button had deeply entered my finger, causing a pain which shot up my arm like molten metal. I groped to find tho button again; and to ascertain what had actually pricked me, but in tho darkness I was unable to discover it. I felt in my pockets, but—alas!—my matchbox was empty. Slowly I drew my hands along tno walls, feeling the pictures here and there without finding the button, until quite unexpectedly a strange thing happened. . One of tho pictures which I touched slowly yielded"to my hand, apparently swinging back upon a pivot, together with a portion of the high, white wainscoting, Then, going forward,- I felt myself in what, in the darkness, seemed to be a secret chamber, tho entrance of which had been concealed by tho picture. Forward I went, but only a couple of steps, for my foot struck something, and I bent to feel what it could he..

Next second my groping bauds came into contact with some silk—soft silk lace and clothing, a woman’s clothing! I drew back with a loud ejaculation of horror, for ray eager fingers had come into contact with something which thrilled mo something hard, cold, hideous—the face of a dead woman ! And at the same moment I felt a strange sensation creeping over mo; a sensation I cannot adequately describe, sate to say that it was one of airy ligbt-hcadedness, combined with a curious gripping in tho throat and across the brow—a sensation such as I had never before experienced.

Again I lient. Again my hand was thrilled hy tiiat contact with cold, :.'ianimate flesh. Around the throat I felt a tiny chain, to which was attached some charm. I endeavoured to unloosen it; but, alas! in doing so another strange and unexpected event happened. Truly I was in a house of mystery. 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 senses. In the darkness all was weird and puzzling; for in an instant there had flashed across my mind tile grim fact that 1 had been entrapped in that place with evil intent. My right arm—the arm with the punctured finger—was already stiff and paralysed, gaining mo intensely; while, as 1 _put_

forward my hands to ascertain tho extent of the place I had by chance discovered and entered, 1 had only clutched the air. I tried to shout, but, alas! no sound passed my lips. 1 felt myself losing all my muscular power. Half my body seemed cramped and paralysed, while 1 experienced a, strange, hideous sensation of being stilled. Shooting through my body were excruciating pains, no doubt caused by that needle so ingeniously concealed in the bell-push. 1 felt mvself losing consciousness, and though my hand was upon that tiny chain, yet it was so paralysed that 1 was unable to withdraw it. By dint of supreme effort I managed to half raise myself, from my crouching position, but next second the blactiness of unconsciousness must have fallen upon me. What actually happened immediately afterwards I have no idea. All I know is that the period of senselessness must have been a very, brief one. for when 1 opened my eyes I found myself in the room wherein hung those realistic pictures. Tho lights had been switched on. T was seated in a chair, and belore me 1 saw the evil grinning face of the gigantic Nubian. ,1 ii > bead was, close to mine, and he was gazing intently into my face, bis eyes yellow and bloodshot, his teeth white behind lips parted in triumph, as. from his mouth thei'c came'a deep grunt of satisfaction. I'tric’d to speak, to protest, but mytongue refused; to articulate. I endeavoured 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 bent quickly, then suddenly stopped, and I had a distinct despairing feeling that I was breathing my .last. I waited in agony—the agony or death—for the pulsation to bo renewed. Then again my heart would beat quickly for some moments, and again cease, causing mo the most terrible tension.

1 was experiencing a slow agonising death. My eyes were affected, my throat contracted, my tongue paralysed so that I wfis unable to articulate any sound other than a groan. I sat in that chair at tho mercy of my captors. Still entirely conscious, 1 at first wondered whether the whole tiling were not a dream. So ghastly and unreal did it seem. But, alas! it was all too much of an actuality. (To be continued.)