The Perfume of Egypt, C. W. Leadbeater [scary books to read .TXT] 📗

one not to be forgotten. The spell of the vision was upon us all, and no one liked to be the first to speak; and for a long minute, which could be felt — that silence of tropical noon which is so far deeper than that of perhaps two minutes, there was a silence midnight.

And then — it was broken. Broken, not by any of the ordinary sounds of the forest, but by one which under the circumstances startled us far more than the growl of the tiger or the hiss of the serpent would have done — the deep solemn `clang!’ of a great church-bell.

“Good God, what is that?” cried Beauchamp, thoroughly unnerved, as we all sprang to our feet, while the dog threw up his head and howled.

“It’s the bell tolling for that funeral of Cameron’s,” said Granville, the wit of our party, trying to smile with a very white face; but I doubt if ever a joke fell flatter, for we were in no mood for laughter. While we still stood awe-stricken, gazing at one another, again the unmistakable sonorous `clang!’ rang out in our ears — not borne by the wind and mellowed by distance, but in the very midst of us, close over our heads — so close that we felt the ground vibrate in response to its stroke.

“Let us leave this accursed spot!” cried I, seizing Cameron’s arm. Beauchamp caught him by the other, and between us we half supported, half dragged him along. The others followed; but we had not gone ten yards before that hollow knell sounded once more in our midst, adding wings to our speed; and again the dog howled dismally.

Nothing else happened, however, and for a mile or more we hurried along in silence, until we came upon a beautiful grassy dell through which meandered a clear silvery streamlet. On its edge we threw ourselves down to rest; indeed Cameron, not yet thoroughly recovered, seemed incapable of going further. After a long draught of the cool water we became more composed, and began seriously to review our late remarkable experience.

As to Cameron’s vision, after witnessing his intense and painful agitation it was impossible to doubt that it was sufficiently real to him, and (the phenomenon being a purely subjective one) there was little more to be said. More difficult to deal with was the faint, distant, yet surprisingly distinct sound of a volley of musketry which Beauchamp and I had both heard. Granville in our heated imagination, excited as we and Johnson, who had heard nothing, declared that the sound had existed only naturally were by Cameron’s strange condition; and, when reminded of its singular agreement with the termination of his vision, attributed that fact to mere coincidence.

Neither Beauchamp nor I were at all satisfied with this; we had heard the sound, and we knew that this theory was not the true explanation; but as we were entirely unable to suggest a more rational one, it was useless to argue. But then that weird church-bell! No one dreamt of suggesting imagination in that case; we had all alike heard it-all felt the vibration of the earth which it caused — all agreed exactly in the description of its sound, and in locating it in the very midst of us.

“Still,” said Granville, “of course there must be some means of accounting for it naturally. Even if there were such things as spirits, it would be absurd to suppose them capable of producing a noise such as that. I have read of cases in which some unusual description of echo has been found capable of reproducing a sound with startling fidelity even at an almost incredible distance.”

“An echo!” replied Cameron scornfully; “there is not a church-bell within fifty miles of us — not such an one as that, probably, in the whole of India, for it sounded like the Great Bell of Moscow.”

“Yes, that sound had certainly not travelled fifty miles,” remarked Beauchamp reflectively. “You have heard, I suppose, of the campanero of South America?”

We had all read of this lovely bird and its wonderful bell-like note, but we had no reason to believe that any such creature existed in India; besides, we all agreed that no specimen of the feathered tribe was ever hatched which could have produced that tremendous metallic clang.

“I wish the Major had been with us,” said Granville; “he knows the country, and perhaps he might be able to suggest something. Ha! I have it! I see the explanation of the mystery! How absurd of us not to have thought of it before! Of course the Major, who stayed behind, has been playing some trick upon us, and is now having a good laugh somewhere or other at the recollection of our foolish fright!”

“A bright idea! that must be it!” exclaimed Beauchamp and Johnson together.

“But stay,” interposed I, “how could he have done it? He can hardly have been carrying a bell weighing two or three tons or so in his coat-pocket.”

“Oh, no doubt he found some method or other,” answered Granville; “for example, I have heard that a properly prepared bar of iron will when struck give out a very fair imitation of a bell sound.”

“Perhaps so, but then properly prepared bars of iron are not usually to be found lying about in an Indian jungle, and he certainly brought nothing with him from the boat.”

“Well, possibly the barrel of his gun might be made — ” but here a general smile checked the speaker, and Cameron quietly remarked:

“No, Granville, I do not think that will quite answer as an explanation; besides, how do you account for the sound coming from a point close above our heads?”

“Much may be done by skilful management of ventriloquism,” replied Granville.

“Ventriloquism! my dear fellow, can you seriously suppose that such a sound as that ever proceeded from any human throat?”

“Well,” answered Granville, “I cannot say; but until you can find me a better, I cling to my hypothesis that the Major is responsible for our fright in some way or other.”

To this Beauchamp and Johnson somewhat hesitatingly agreed; Cameron smiled sadly and shook his head, but said no more; as for myself, I knew not what to think, for my scepticism was considerably shaken by the strange events of the morning.

We lay there by that pleasant stream for some hours, each ransacking his memory in turn for some half-forgotten story of the supernatural, of goblin, ghost, or fairy, told perhaps by some old nurse in happy childish days. The only tale that dwells in my recollection is a short one told by Cameron in answer to a question as to his first experience of the faculty of second-sight.

“The first experience I well remember,” he said; “I was a little lad of six or seven, and one evening when my father and I were out walking together, we stood to watch the fishermen of our little village push off their boats and start for their night’s work. Among them were two fine lads, Alec and Donald, who were particular favourites of mine, and used frequently to bring strange fish for “the little laird” (as they called me) to see; and once I had even been out in their boat. So I waved my hand to them as they set sail, and then we continued our ramble, ascending the cliffs so that we could watch the boats as they stood far out to sea.

We were nearly at home again, when, coming round an angle of the grey old castle wall, I was much surprised to see Alec and Donald leaning against it. I was about to speak to them, when the sudden tightening of my father’s grasp upon my hand caused me to look up in his face, and the stern, set expression that I saw there diverted my attention for the moment from the lads, though I noticed that they did not give us the customary salute — in fact, did not seem to see us at all. `Father,’ I asked, `what can Alec and Donald be doing there?’

He looked down on me with deep compassion, and said:

`And did ye see them too? Eh! my lad, my lad!’

After that he took no notice of my questions, and spoke no more till we reached home. He retired to his room, while I ran down to the beach to see why my young friends’ boat had returned; but to my astonishment there was no boat there, and an old woman, who had been sitting spinning at her door close by the whole time, assured me that there certainly had been none since the whole fleet set sail together two hours before. I was puzzled, but still I never doubted that somehow my friends had been there in real flesh and blood; even the great storm which woke me in the night suggested nothing, and it was only when in the early morning I saw men reverently bearing two bodies into the house where Alec and Donald had lived, that I had any idea of the true nature of what I had seen.”

Thus time passed on, till the declining rays of the sun warned us that we must think of returning to the boat. We had not far to go, for the hill at whose foot we were to meet was full in sight, and we had only to pass through a wood which skirted its base. By this time we had somewhat recovered our normal tone, and were laughing and chatting gaily, wondering where we should find the Major, and thinking what an incredible story we had to tell him. Beauchamp, who was leading, called out:

“Here is the end of the wood at last!”

Suddenly his dog, which had been roaming about in advance, came flying back and cowered down among us with every sign of excessive fear. We had no time to wonder at this unusual behaviour before again in our midst sounded that solemn sonorous `clang!’ just as before, and again the trembling dog threw up his head and howled.

“Ha!” exclaiming Cameron, quickly turning upon Granville; “echo? ventriloquism? an iron bar? a musket-barrel? which hypothesis do you prefer now?”

And as his voice ceased the dread unearthly knell again crashed forth. With one consent we sprang towards the open ground at the end of the wood, but before we could reach it the spectral bell rang once more in our very ears — almost in our very brains, as it seemed — amid the frantic howls of the dog. We rushed out in great disorder into the broad meadow sloping down to the river, and it was with an unutterable sense of relief that we saw our boat, already moored, waiting to receive us, and the Major some distance in front of us limping hastily towards it.

“Major! Major!” we shouted.

But he did not turn his head, sharp though his ears were generally; he only hurried on towards the boat, so we all started in pursuit, running as hard as we could. To our surprise the dog, instead of accompanying us, uttered one final dismal yelp and dashed back into the haunted wood; but no one thought of following him, for our attention was fixed on the Major. Fast as we ran we were unable to overtake him, and we were still some fifty yards from the boat when he hurried across the plank that the boatmen had just put down as a gangway. He went down the stairs, still in the same hurried manner, and we rushed after him, but to our intense surprise were unable to find him anywhere. The door of his cabin stood wide open, but it was empty; and though we searched the whole barge, not a trace of