Edgar Poe - Tales of Mystery and Imagination

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HarperCollins is proud to present its new range of best-loved, essential classics.‘Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart – one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which gives direction to the character of Man.’Including Poe’s most terrifying, grotesque and haunting short stories, Tales of Mystery and Imagination is the ultimate collection of the infamous author’s macabre works.Considered to be one of the earliest American writers to encapsulate the genre of detective-fiction, the collection features some of his most popular tales.‘The Gold-Bug’ is the only tale that was popular in his lifetime, whereas ‘The Black Cat’, ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’ and ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’ became more widely read after his death.Focussing on the internal conflict of individuals, the power of the dead over the living, and psychological explorations of darker human emotion that appear to anticipate Sigmund Freud’s later theories on the psyche, Poe’s Gothic terror stories are considered masterpieces the world over.

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‘Even this division,’ said I, ‘leaves me still in the dark.’

‘It left me also in the dark,’ replied Legrand, ‘for a few days; during which I made diligent inquiry, in the neighbourhood of Sullivan’s Island, for any building which went by the name of the “Bishop’s Hotel”; for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word “hostel.” Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the point of extending my sphere of search, and proceeding in a more systematic manner, when, one morning, it entered into my head, quite suddenly, that this “Bishop’s Hostel” might have some reference to an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, time out of mind, had held possession of an ancient manor-house, about four miles to the northward of the island. I accordingly went over to the plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries among the older negroes of the place. At length, one of the most aged of the women said that she had heard of such a place as Bessop’s Castle , and thought that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle, nor a tavern, but a high rock.

‘I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some demur, she consented to accompany me to the spot. We found it without much difficulty, when, dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the place. The “castle” consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs and rocks—one of the latter being quite remarkable for its height as well as for its insulated and artificial appearance. I clambered to its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what should be next done.

‘While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon a narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit upon which I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was not more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just above it gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed chairs used by our ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the “devil’s seat” alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the full secret of the riddle.

‘The “good glass,” I knew, could have reference to nothing but a telescope; for the word “glass” is rarely employed in any other sense by seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a definite point of view, admitting no variation , from which to use it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, “forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes,” and, “north-east and by north,” were intended as directions for the levelling of the glass. Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried home, procured a telescope, and returned to the rock.

‘I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was impossible to retain a seat upon it except in one particular position. This fact confirmed my preconceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of course, the “forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes” could allude to nothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since the horizontal direction was clearly indicated by the words, “north-east and by north.” This latter direction I at once established by means of a pocket-compass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at an angle of forty-one degrees of elevation as I could do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my attention was arrested by a circular rift or opening in the foliage of a large tree that overtopped its fellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived a white spot, but could not, at first, distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again looked, and now made it out to be a human skull.

‘Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the enigma solved; for the phrase “main branch, seventh limb, east side,” could refer only to the position of the skull upon the tree, while “shoot from the left eye of the death’s-head” admitted, also, of but one interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. I perceived that the design was to drop a bullet from the left eye of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other words, a straight line, drawn from the nearest point of the trunk through “the shot” (or the spot where the bullet fell), and thence extended to a distance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point—and beneath this point I thought it at least possible that a deposit of value lay concealed.’

‘All this,’ I said, ‘is exceedingly clear, and, although ingenious, still simple and explicit. When you left the Bishop’s Hotel, what then?’

‘Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turned homeward. The instant that I left “the devil’s seat,” however, the circular rift vanished; nor could I get a glimpse of it afterward, turn as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this whole business, is the fact (for repeated experiment has convinced me it is a fact) that the circular opening in question is visible from no other attainable point of view than that afforded by the narrow ledge upon the face of the rock.

‘In this expedition to the “Bishop’s Hotel” I had been attended by Jupiter, who had, no doubt, observed for some weeks past, the abstraction of my demeanour, and took especial care not to leave me alone. But, on the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to give him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. After much toil I found it. When I came home at night my valet proposed to give me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I believe you are as well acquainted as myself.’

‘I suppose,’ said I, ‘you missed the spot, in the first attempt at digging, through Jupiter’s stupidity in letting the bug fall through the right instead of through the left eye of the skull.’

‘Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about two inches and a half in the “shot”—that is to say, in the position of the peg nearest the tree; and had the treasure been beneath the “shot” the error would have been of little moment; but the “shot,” together with the nearest point of the tree, were merely two points for the establishment of a line of direction; of course the error, however trivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded with the line, and by the time we had gone fifty feet threw us quite off the scent. But my deep-seated impressions that treasure was here somewhere actually buried, we might have had all our labour in vain.’

‘But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swinging the beetle—how excessively odd! I was sure you were mad. And why did you insist upon letting fall the bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull?’

‘Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober mystification. For this reason I swung the beetle, and for this reason I let it fall from the tree. An observation of yours about its great weight suggested the latter idea.’

‘Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzles me. What are we to make of the skeletons found in the hole?’

‘That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. There seems, however, only one plausible way of accounting for them—and yet it is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my suggestion would imply. It is clear that Kidd—if Kidd indeed secreted this treasure, which I doubt not—it is clear that he must have had assistance in the labour. But this labour concluded, he may have thought it expedient to remove all participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with a mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutors were busy in the pit; perhaps it required a dozen—who shall tell?’

CHAPTER 2 The Balloon Hoax

[Astounding News by Express, via Norfolk!—The Atlantic Crossed in Three Days! Signal Triumph of Mr Monck Mason’s Flying Machine!—Arrival at Sullivan’s Island, near Charleston, S.C., of Mr Mason, Mr Robert Holland, Mr Henson, Mr Harrison Ainsworth, and four others, in the Steering Balloon, Victoria , after a passage of seventy-five hours from Land to Land! Full Particulars of the Voyage!

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