The Master Spirit

by Sir William Magnay

HERRIARD could not have told how long the tense situation lasted. Nor could he be sure whether Gastineau saw him or not. The shock of the astounding sight seemed to have deprived him of all power of speech as well as of movement. For there was something supernaturally mysterious about it, heightened by the certain occult power of will, indefinable and not to be gauged, which had always suggested itself beneath Gastineau’s more obvious characteristics. At the same time Herriard’s mind was alert enough, with the abnormal activity of a dreamer’s. He wondered why Gastineau did not speak; then whether those sharp eyes could fail to see him; all the time searching helplessly for a solution of the miracle of his being there on his feet. As in a dream, the flash of time was lengthened out, in reality Gastineau’s look into the room lasted but two or three seconds. At length Herriard, feeling sure he must be seen, and desperate to snap the intolerable tension, made an effort to speak. But before his dry tongue could utter a sound, Gastineau turned away and disappeared.

With that, the rigidity that held him under a spell of astonishment approaching to horror gradually relaxed; the power of practical speculation returned. Was it indeed Gastineau whom he had seen? He went forward a few steps into the centre of the room, and listened. Not a sound broke the stillness. Then from the street came that of a whistled tune. It dissipated instantly the atmosphere of the supernatural which seemed to fill the house. Herriard was ashamed to acknowledge the courage which that touch of outside, common-place life put into him. He passed boldly now into the outer room beyond; it was empty. He went quickly out into the hall; no one was to be seen, no movement to be heard. Had it been really Gastineau? He was now inclined to put the appearance down to an hallucination; that could be plausibly accounted for in the present perturbed state of his mind; the alternative was beyond the bounds of possibility. At least it would be easy to make sure.

Herriard ran quickly upstairs, laughing a little uncomfortably at the absurd want of balance his brain had shown. Next moment the shock and tremor returned. For, in front of him, as he reached the wide landing, the door of Gastineau’s room stood wide open. He knew that he had shut it when he left the room twenty minutes before. Who could have opened it if there were no human being in the house but Gastineau and himself? Who but one?

Then he laughed. Of course Hencher had returned earlier than was expected, and had gone into his master’s room, leaving the door open. Herriard crossed to the room and went in. Gastineau was not there; his couch was empty.

For some time Herriard stood staring at his friend’s accustomed place stupidly, dumbfoundedly, unable all at once to realize all the empty room meant. Then it came to him, vaguely, but blurred as to the details, and, following closely on that, a certain horror. The man’s real character seemed to have been revealed to him suddenly; he had known him intimately for years without learning as much about him and his nature as the last twenty-four hours had taught him. And now, with the revelation of the depths—perhaps not yet the lowest—of the man’s character and capabilities, had come the startling knowledge that the chains which had fettered that evil spirit in the flesh had been struck off. Gastineau, then, was no longer a prisoner, but a free man, free to work his will upon those who opposed him, who stood in his way.

But the real significance of the discovery came from the secrecy with which the change had been kept from him. Half an hour ago Gastineau had been lying on that couch in the manner of a hopeless paralytic; the horror of that living lie was appalling to think of. Herriard had often of late applied that epithet to himself: here was the wheel within the wheel; the deceiver himself hoodwinked; the lower depth, undreamt of, in what he had come to think the lowest.

All this passed swiftly through his mind as soon as he could bring himself to realize it; then came a more practical consideration, Gastineau must not find him there; must not know of his discovery of the secret. Could he get out of the house, unseen, unheard? In an access of consternation he stole to the door. As his hand touched it, it was pushed open from without and he fell back with a half cry as Gastineau stood before him.

The face he encountered was dark with vicious ill-humour; but, if he was more startled than Herriard by the rencontre, he, with his stronger nerves, showed it less. The expression of angry surprise changed into a sneering, evil laugh of annoyance, the laugh of a schemer who is found out.

It was characteristic of him that he waited for Herriard to speak. The explanation was due not from, but to him.

“Gastineau, you are well, you are cured?” There was contempt now in the laugh with which the other walked past him into the room.