J. Thorne - The Black Mask Magazine (Vol. 1, No. 5 - August 1920)

Dr. Stockbridge turned to Madison Dodd. Carrington's friend stood near the window, a sheaf of legal papers, evidently the will, in one hand, a typewritten sheet in the other. He was reading this, and he looked up as the surgeon came toward him. He waved his arm in the direction of the outer office.

"Send them away, doctor," he said quietly. "Carrington's summons has been answered."

One by one the nurses and internes filed out of the office in obedience to Dr. Stockbridge's gesture of dismissal. When they were gone, the surgeon returned to the side of Madison Dodd.

"You'll understand when I read this," said Dodd.

He adjusted his glasses and brought the typewritten sheet closer.

"This is my last test for Ed," he read. "If he gives this envelope to you, as I instructed him, then my original will stands as it is, leaving all to him. When I gave my boy this envelope, I told him it contained a new will, disowning him and leaving him without a penny. If he has enough manhood to give this to you, then I shall know that he has repented and that he has the courage to take his punishment manfully. In that case, he will prove himself a true Carrington and will deserve the fortune that comes to him. This is exactly as we planned it, old friend. My prayer is that he will make good. My spirit shall not rest until he does. And I trust that my everlasting peace will not be disturbed by my boy's craven failure to deliver this message to you.

Madison Dodd looked up. his fingers folding the sheet he had just read.

"Scofield Carrington's spirit is at peace now," he said, in a solemn voice.

The men's hands met at the door. It was a silent clasp. Dr. Stockbridge's lips pursed and his eyes lowered.

"Mr. Dodd," he said, "this is the first experience of the kind I've ever had. As a man of science—"

"My dear doctor," broke in his companion, "science is still in its infancy. Some day it may be able to explain many things that are still beyond understanding."

He nodded and turned on his heel. There was a smile on his face, but Dr. Stockbridge did not see this.

"Basement," said Dodd to the elevator man, as the car shot downward.

Emerging from the cage, Dodd hurried down the dimly lighted corridor. He paused before a door over which there was a neatly printed sign "Electrician."

A man in overalls rose as Dodd entered, touching his cap.

"Did I get that shade signal right?" he asked with a smile.

"Perfectly," said Dodd, drawing a banknote from his wallet and crushing it into the man's hand. "And now you may rearrange those wires. You did splendidly. Thank you."

The man touched his cap, and Madison Dodd, nodding, passed out of the room.

The blinding rain which had been steadily falling for the last hour cut and stung our faces, and the wind wheezing through the trees about us rocked our little car until it made progress almost impossible. An illuminating streak of lightning, followed by a deafening crash of thunder, caused me to cower down in the seat and cover my ears with my hands.

"Well, here's our finish!" exclaimed my brother, who had valiantly striven to pilot the machine in the storm. "There's a tree lying directly across the road."

He brought the car to a standstill, and turned his spotlight on the dark object blocking our path. It was a huge tree, evidently stricken down by the lightning, and it covered the entire road.

"What on earth are we going to do?" I sobbed hysterically. "We can't stay out in a storm like this, and we are miles and miles away from anyone!"

We had been steadily climbing an upward grade, and the cavern-like ravines on either side and the depths of blackness behind me struck a chill in my heart. "I wish we'd never come out on this crazy motor trip," I wailed. "New York is good enough for me. Alan, what can we do?"

"I'll see," he answered. "Keep your hand on the brake, this is a pretty stiff hill, and the road is slippery; if the car starts skidding it's good night."

He spoke jocularly enough, but I knew he was worried. Climbing out of the machine, he went around to the big, supine tree and examined it.

"It's no use, Nell," he called to me, pitching his voice above the roar of the wind, "I can't budge it."

In the brief light caused by a second flash of lightning, I saw the stark, bare outlines of a two-story house, possibly a hundred feet ahead of us on my right.

"Alan, there's a house! A house up there further on the hill," I cried wildly.

"You're right, there is. It's either an empty one, or its occupants hit the hay early. I'll pull the car out onto the side of the road, and we'll make a run for it."

He got back into his seat, and with a few careful maneuvers of the wheel succeeded in bringing the machine around to a spot where it might stand in safety. Then he searched in the darkness until he found a rock, which he placed under the wheel in case something should start it rolling down-grade.

"Turn up your collar! The rain feels like ice-water when you're out in it. That house is probably farther off than it looks."

Taking my hand, he helped me out. My feet went into deep mud, and I almost lost my balance. With a little shriek I clutched him to save myself. Then we started to run.

It was up-hill all the way, a much steeper and longer climb than I had anticipated, and, as Alan had said, the rain was like ice-water beating against the back of my neck and shoulders. I was shaking and shivering like a drowned cat by the time we reached the stoop on the front of the building.

The house was barren of fence and surrounding trees, and stood on a sort of knoll at the side of the hills. No light was visible anywhere. Alan used his pocket flash and that guided us to the front door, which was swinging dismally back and forth on one hinge, making a doleful, creaking noise, distinguishable above the wind. We did not stop to knock, feeling pretty certain the house had no occupant or the door would be locked on a night like this.

"For such shelter let us give thanks!" Alan chuckled grimly, pushing me in first. He closed the door after us to shut out the rain, but it immediately swung open again.

We found ourselves in a long, wide hall which evidently divided the house through the centre. At the extreme end was an old-fashioned staircase with banisters. The floors creaked and gave with the weight of our bodies as we walked, and I fancied a rat scurried across my foot.

There was an odor of mustiness and damp about the place, as though it had not been occupied for years.

There were no furnishings of any kind, no blinds to the windows, and most of the panes of glass were missing; but even in the dim light that Alan's "spot" afforded we could see it had an old-time elegance. Probably at one time monstrous log fires had burnt in the massive brick fireplaces at the end of the two rooms opening off the separating hallway. The woodwork appeared to be of black walnut, the floors unquestionably had been highly polished, though now they were worn and earth-stained. The ceilings were falling, and the wallpaper hung in great strips from the plastering — a more uninviting place could not be imagined. I clung to Alan's arm, half afraid to venture farther.

"I'm awfully cold," I whimpered, through chattering teeth. "D'ye suppose there's a stove in the kitchen? Maybe we can find some paper and start a fire if there is."

Alan did not answer, but led the way to the back of the house. Before some swinging doors he hesitated a second, then flung them open and entered; I followed. It was an old-fashioned brick-floored kitchen. In one corner stood a battered, rust-covered coal-range. The chimney was disconnected, and part of it lay on the floor before the open oven. Piles of old rags and broken bits of twigs and newspaper filled a box near it.