An Eye for an Eye

by William Le Queux

Our nostrils were filled with a foetid, nauseating smell of decay which burst upon us as the door was opened, and at the shock of witnessing the repulsive sight within, the candle I had held dropped from my trembling fingers and was extinguished. Slowly, however, I recovered it, taking a light from the one held by my friend’s assistant, and then entered the place.

It was not a large room, but the shutters of the window had, we afterwards discovered, been secured by screws and strongly barred. In the centre was a square table, covered with dust, and several common wooden chairs stood around. In the empty rusted grate stood a kettle and a couple of cooking-pots, while upon a side table were a few plates and a couple of cups and saucers. Along one side stood an old camp bedstead, and lying upon it, half-covered with a dirty blanket, was a figure that had once been human but which was now a sight so gruesome and so horrible that even Boyd, used as he was to such things, drew away and held his handkerchief to his nose.

The features were beyond recognition, but by the shortness of the hair the body was evidently that of a man. One arm hung helpless, shrivelled and discoloured, while on the floor close by were the broken portions of a cup which had evidently fallen from the dead man’s claw-like fingers.

“This is another facer!” Boyd exclaimed in a tone of absolute bewilderment. “I wonder who he was? It seems by the pots and plates that he was held a prisoner here—an invalid or imbecile, perhaps, unable to help himself. Evidently the servants knew nothing of him, for he cooked his food himself. Phew!” he added. “Let’s get outside in the passage to breathe. This air is enough to poison one.”

Half-choked, we went outside, all three of us, and discussed the startling situation while breathing the purer air. I offered both my companions cigarettes, which they lit eagerly with myself.

Then, after a few minutes, we returned and resumed our investigations. About the room were several books in French and German treating of political economy and other subjects, a couple of old newspapers, two or three novels, and a number of scientific books which showed their reader to be an educated man. The room had originally been a bathroom, we concluded, for there was a water-tap and a large pipe for waste, and this unfortunate man, whoever he was, had evidently not existed wholly in darkness, for on examining the shutters we found that one of the panels was movable, and at that spot the pane of glass was broken, thus admitting both light and air. Again, there was a small gas-stove ring, used so universally in London to boil kettles, and this was still connected by a flexible pipe to a gas bracket on the wall. Hence it was quite apparent that the room had been specially fitted for the occupation of the unknown man now dead.

Upon the dusty table were several pieces of writing-paper covered with some writing in German, a language which I unfortunately could not read, while beside them I picked up an object which held me amazed and astounded—a plain card similar to those we had found at Phillimore Place and among Eva’s secret possessions.

Beyond those writings in German we found nothing else to give us a clue to whom the dead man might be, and even these writings were no proof as to his identity. We found no writing materials there, hence our doubt that the writing had been traced by his hand.

Into every hole and crevice we peered, disturbing the rats who had scampered here and there on our unexpected intrusion, but discovering nothing else of especial interest, we, after about half an hour, went forth, glad to escape from the poisonous atmosphere. I closed and locked the door, when Boyd, cutting out a piece of bell-wire from one of the bedrooms, re-secured the bolt, and after melting the pewter spoon below in the kitchen fire, replaced the seal in such a manner that none could tell it had ever been disturbed.

Truly our midnight search had been a fruitful one. What might next transpire I dreaded to think. All was so mysterious, so utterly astounding, that I had become entirely bewildered.