A Watcher by the Dead
IIn an upper room of an unoccupied dwelling in the part of San Franciscoknown as North Beach lay the body of a man, under a sheet. The hour wasnear nine in the evening; the room was dimly lighted by a single candle.Although the weather was warm, the two windows, contrary to the customwhich gives the dead plenty of air, were closed and the blinds drawndown. The furniture of the room consisted of but three pieces--anarm-chair, a small reading-stand supporting the candle, and a longkitchen table, supporting the body of the man. All these, as also thecorpse, seemed to have been recently brought in, for an observer, hadthere been one, would have seen that all were free from dust, whereaseverything else in the room was pretty thickly coated with it, and therewere cobwebs in the angles of the walls.Under the sheet the outlines of the body could be traced, even thefeatures, these having that unnaturally sharp definition which seems tobelong to faces of the dead, but is really characteristic of those onlythat have been wasted by disease. From the silence of the room one wouldrightly have inferred that it was not in the front of the house, facinga street. It really faced nothing but a high breast of rock, the rear ofthe building being set into a hill.As a neighboring church clock was striking nine with an indolence whichseemed to imply such an indifference to the flight of time that onecould hardly help wondering why it took the trouble to strike at all,the single door of the room was opened and a man entered, advancingtoward the body. As he did so the door closed, apparently of its ownvolition; there was a grating, as of a key turned with difficulty, andthe snap of the lock bolt as it shot into its socket. A sound ofretiring footsteps in the passage outside ensued, and the man was to allappearance a prisoner. Advancing to the table, he stood a moment lookingdown at the body; then with a slight shrug of the shoulders walked overto one of the windows and hoisted the blind. The darkness outside wasabsolute, the panes were covered with dust, but by wiping this away hecould see that the window was fortified with strong iron bars crossingit within a few inches of the glass and imbedded in the masonry on eachside. He examined the other window. It was the same. He manifested nogreat curiosity in the matter, did not even so much as raise the sash.If he was a prisoner he was apparently a tractable one. Having completedhis examination of the room, he seated himself in the arm-chair, took abook from his pocket, drew the stand with its candle alongside and beganto read.The man was young--not more than thirty--dark in complexion,smooth-shaven, with brown hair. His face was thin and high-nosed, with abroad forehead and a "firmness" of the chin and jaw which is said bythose having it to denote resolution. The eyes were gray and steadfast,not moving except with definitive purpose. They were now for the greaterpart of the time fixed upon his book, but he occasionally withdrew themand turned them to the body on the table, not, apparently, from anydismal fascination which under such circumstances it might be supposedto exercise upon even a courageous person, nor with a consciousrebellion against the contrary influence which might dominate a timidone. He looked at it as if in his reading he had come upon somethingrecalling him to a sense of his surroundings. Clearly this watcher bythe dead was discharging his trust with intelligence and composure, asbecame him.After reading for perhaps a half-hour he seemed to come to the end of achapter and quietly laid away the book. He then rose and taking thereading-stand from the floor carried it into a corner of the room nearone of the windows, lifted the candle from it and returned to the emptyfireplace before which he had been sitting.A moment later he walked over to the body on the table, lifted the sheetand turned it back from the head, exposing a mass of dark hair and athin face-cloth, beneath which the features showed with even sharperdefinition than before. Shading his eyes by interposing his free handbetween them and the candle, he stood looking at his motionlesscompanion with a serious and tranquil regard. Satisfied with hisinspection, he pulled the sheet over the face again and returning to thechair, took some matches off the candlestick, put them in the sidepocket of his sack-coat and sat down. He then lifted the candle from itssocket and looked at it critically, as if calculating how long it wouldlast. It was barely two inches long; in another hour he would be indarkness. He replaced it in the candlestick and blew it out.
IIIn a physician's office in Kearny Street three men sat about a table,drinking punch and smoking. It was late in the evening, almost midnight,indeed, and there had been no lack of punch. The gravest of the three,Dr. Helberson, was the host--it was in his rooms they sat. He was aboutthirty years of age; the others were even younger; all were physicians."The superstitious awe with which the living regard the dead," said Dr.Helberson, "is hereditary and incurable. One needs no more be ashamed ofit than of the fact that he inherits, for example, an incapacity formathematics, or a tendency to lie."The others laughed. "Oughtn't a man to be ashamed to lie?" asked theyoungest of the three, who was in fact a medical student not yetgraduated."My dear Harper, I said nothing about that. The tendency to lie is onething; lying is another.""But do you think," said the third man, "that this superstitiousfeeling, this fear of the dead, reasonless as we know it to be, isuniversal? I am myself not conscious of it.""Oh, but it is 'in your system' for all that," replied Helberson; "itneeds only the right conditions--what Shakespeare calls the 'confederateseason'--to manifest itself in some very disagreeable way that will openyour eyes. Physicians and soldiers are of course more nearly free fromit than others.""Physicians and soldiers!--why don't you add hangmen and headsmen? Letus have in all the assassin classes.""No, my dear Mancher; the juries will not let the public executionersacquire sufficient familiarity with death to be altogether unmoved byit."Young Harper, who had been helping himself to a fresh cigar at thesideboard, resumed his seat. "What would you consider conditions underwhich any man of woman born would become insupportably conscious of hisshare of our common weakness in this regard?" he asked, ratherverbosely."Well, I should say that if a man were locked up all night with acorpse--alone--in a dark room--of a vacant house--with no bed covers topull over his head--and lived through it without going altogether mad,he might justly boast himself not of woman born, nor yet, like Macduff,a product of Csarean section.""I thought you never would finish piling up conditions," said Harper,"but I know a man who is neither a physician nor a soldier who willaccept them all, for any stake you like to name.""Who is he?""His name is Jarette--a stranger here; comes from my town in New York. Ihave no money to back him, but he will back himself with loads of it.""How do you know that?""He would rather bet than eat. As for fear--I dare say he thinks it somecutaneous disorder, or possibly a particular kind of religious heresy.""What does he look like?" Helberson was evidently becoming interested."Like Mancher, here--might be his twin brother.""I accept the challenge," said Helberson, promptly."Awfully obliged to you for the compliment, I'm sure," drawled Mancher,who was growing sleepy. "Can't I get into this?""Not against me," Helberson said. "I don't want _your_ money.""All right," said Mancher; "I'll be the corpse."The others laughed.The outcome of this crazy conversation we have seen.
IIIIn extinguishing his meagre allowance of candle Mr. Jarette's object wasto preserve it against some unforeseen need. He may have thought, too,or half thought, that the darkness would be no worse at one time thananother, and if the situation became insupportable it would be better tohave a means of relief, or even release. At any rate it was wise to havea little reserve of light, even if only to enable him to look at hiswatch.No sooner had he blown out the candle and set it on the floor at hisside than he settled himself comfortably in the arm-chair, leaned backand closed his eyes, hoping and expecting to sleep. In this he wasdisappointed; he had never in his life felt less sleepy, and in a fewminutes he gave up the attempt. But what could he do? He could not gogroping about in absolute darkness at the risk of bruising himself--atthe risk, too, of blundering against the table and rudely disturbing thedead. We all recognize their right to lie at rest, with immunity fromall that is harsh and violent. Jarette almost succeeded in makinghimself believe that considerations of this kind restrained him fromrisking the collision and fixed him to the chair.While thinking of this matter he fancied that he heard a faint sound inthe direction of the table--what kind of sound he could hardly haveexplained. He did not turn his head. Why should he--in the darkness? Buthe listened--why should he not? And listening he grew giddy and graspedthe arms of the chair for support. There was a strange ringing in hisears; his head seemed bursting; his chest was oppressed by theconstriction of his clothing. He wondered why it was so, and whetherthese were symptoms of fear. Then, with a long and strong expiration,his chest appeared to collapse, and with the great gasp with which herefilled his exhausted lungs the vertigo left him and he knew that sointently had he listened that he had held his breath almost tosuffocation. The revelation was vexatious; he arose, pushed away thechair with his foot and strode to the centre of the room. But one doesnot stride far in darkness; he began to grope, and finding the wallfollowed it to an angle, turned, followed it past the two windows andthere in another corner came into violent contact with thereading-stand, overturning it. It made a clatter that startled him. Hewas annoyed. "How the devil could I have forgotten where it was?" hemuttered, and groped his way along the third wall to the fireplace. "Imust put things to rights," said he, feeling the floor for the candle.Having recovered that, he lighted it and instantly turned his eyes tothe table, where, naturally, nothing had undergone any change. Thereading-stand lay unobserved upon the floor: he had forgotten to "put itto rights." He looked all about the room, dispersing the deeper shadowsby movements of the candle in his hand, and crossing over to the doortested it by turning and pulling the knob with all his strength. It didnot yield and this seemed to afford him a certain satisfaction; indeed,he secured it more firmly by a bolt which he had not before observed.Returning to his chair, he looked at his watch; it was half-past nine.With a start of surprise he held the watch at his ear. It had notstopped. The candle was now visibly shorter. He again extinguished it,placing it on the floor at his side as before.Mr. Jarette was not at his ease; he was distinctly dissatisfied with hissurroundings, and with himself for being so. "What have I to fear?" hethought. "This is ridiculous and disgraceful; I will not be so great afool." But courage does not come of saying, "I will be courageous," norof recognizing its appropriateness to the occasion. The more Jarettecondemned himself, the more reason he gave himself for condemnation; thegreater the number of variations which he played upon the simple themeof the harmlessness of the dead, the more insupportable grew the discordof his emotions. "What!" he cried aloud in the anguish of his spirit,"what! shall I, who have not a shade of superstition in my nature--I,who have no belief in immortality--I, who know (and never more clearlythan now) that the after-life is the dream of a desire--shall I lose atonce my bet, my honor and my self-respect, perhaps my reason, becausecertain savage ancestors dwelling in caves and burrows conceived themonstrous notion that the dead walk by night?--that--" Distinctly,unmistakably, Mr. Jarette heard behind him a light, soft sound offootfalls, deliberate, regular, successively nearer!
IVJust before daybreak the next morning Dr. Helberson and his youngfriend Harper were driving slowly through the streets of North Beach inthe doctor's coup."Have you still the confidence of youth in the courage or stolidity ofyour friend?" said the elder man. "Do you believe that I have lost thiswager?""I _know_ you have," replied the other, with enfeebling emphasis."Well, upon my soul, I hope so."It was spoken earnestly, almost solemnly. There was a silence for a fewmoments."Harper," the doctor resumed, looking very serious in the shiftinghalf-lights that entered the carriage as they passed the street lamps,"I don't feel altogether comfortable about this business. If your friendhad not irritated me by the contemptuous manner in which he treated mydoubt of his endurance--a purely physical quality--and by the coolincivility of his suggestion that the corpse be that of a physician, Ishould not have gone on with it. If anything should happen we areruined, as I fear we deserve to be.""What can happen? Even if the matter should be taking a serious turn, ofwhich I am not at all afraid, Mancher has only to 'resurrect' himselfand explain matters. With a genuine 'subject' from the dissecting-room,or one of your late patients, it might be different."Dr. Mancher, then, had been as good as his promise; he was the "corpse."Dr. Helberson was silent for a long time, as the carriage, at a snail'space, crept along the same street it had traveled two or three timesalready. Presently he spoke: "Well, let us hope that Mancher, if he hashad to rise from the dead, has been discreet about it. A mistake in thatmight make matters worse instead of better.""Yes," said Harper, "Jarette would kill him. But, Doctor"--looking athis watch as the carriage passed a gas lamp--"it is nearly four o'clockat last."A moment later the two had quitted the vehicle and were walking brisklytoward the long-unoccupied house belonging to the doctor in which theyhad immured Mr. Jarette in accordance with the terms of the mad wager.As they neared it they met a man running. "Can you tell me," he cried,suddenly checking his speed, "where I can find a doctor?""What's the matter?" Helberson asked, non-committal."Go and see for yourself," said the man, resuming his running.They hastened on. Arrived at the house, they saw several personsentering in haste and excitement. In some of the dwellings near by andacross the way the chamber windows were thrown up, showing a protrusionof heads. All heads were asking questions, none heeding the questions ofthe others. A few of the windows with closed blinds were illuminated;the inmates of those rooms were dressing to come down. Exactly oppositethe door of the house that they sought a street lamp threw a yellow,insufficient light upon the scene, seeming to say that it could disclosea good deal more if it wished. Harper paused at the door and laid a handupon his companion's arm. "It is all up with us, Doctor," he said inextreme agitation, which contrasted strangely with his free-and-easywords; "the game has gone against us all. Let's not go in there; I'm forlying low.""I'm a physician," said Dr. Helberson, calmly; "there may be need ofone."They mounted the doorsteps and were about to enter. The door was open;the street lamp opposite lighted the passage into which it opened. Itwas full of men. Some had ascended the stairs at the farther end, and,denied admittance above, waited for better fortune. All were talking,none listening. Suddenly, on the upper landing there was a greatcommotion; a man had sprung out of a door and was breaking away fromthose endeavoring to detain him. Down through the mass of affrightedidlers he came, pushing them aside, flattening them against the wall onone side, or compelling them to cling to the rail on the other,clutching them by the throat, striking them savagely, thrusting themback down the stairs and walking over the fallen. His clothing was indisorder, he was without a hat. His eyes, wild and restless, had in themsomething more terrifying than his apparently superhuman strength. Hisface, smooth-shaven, was bloodless, his hair frost-white.As the crowd at the foot of the stairs, having more freedom, fell awayto let him pass Harper sprang forward. "Jarette! Jarette!" he cried.Dr. Helberson seized Harper by the collar and dragged him back. The manlooked into their faces without seeming to see them and sprang throughthe door, down the steps, into the street, and away. A stout policeman,who had had inferior success in conquering his way down the stairway,followed a moment later and started in pursuit, all the heads in thewindows--those of women and children now--screaming in guidance.The stairway being now partly cleared, most of the crowd having rusheddown to the street to observe the flight and pursuit, Dr. Helbersonmounted to the landing, followed by Harper. At a door in the upperpassage an officer denied them admittance. "We are physicians," said thedoctor, and they passed in. The room was full of men, dimly seen,crowded about a table. The newcomers edged their way forward and lookedover the shoulders of those in the front rank. Upon the table, the lowerlimbs covered with a sheet, lay the body of a man, brilliantlyilluminated by the beam of a bull's-eye lantern held by a policemanstanding at the feet. The others, excepting those near the head--theofficer himself--all were in darkness. The face of the body showedyellow, repulsive, horrible! The eyes were partly open and upturned andthe jaw fallen; traces of froth defiled the lips, the chin, the cheeks.A tall man, evidently a doctor, bent over the body with his hand thrustunder the shirt front. He withdrew it and placed two fingers in the openmouth. "This man has been about six hours dead," said he. "It is a casefor the coroner."He drew a card from his pocket, handed it to the officer and made hisway toward the door."Clear the room--out, all!" said the officer, sharply, and the bodydisappeared as if it had been snatched away, as shifting the lantern heflashed its beam of light here and there against the faces of the crowd.The effect was amazing! The men, blinded, confused, almost terrified,made a tumultuous rush for the door, pushing, crowding, and tumblingover one another as they fled, like the hosts of Night before the shaftsof Apollo. Upon the struggling, trampling mass the officer poured hislight without pity and without cessation. Caught in the current,Helberson and Harper were swept out of the room and cascaded down thestairs into the street."Good God, Doctor! did I not tell you that Jarette would kill him?" saidHarper, as soon as they were clear of the crowd."I believe you did," replied the other, without apparent emotion.They walked on in silence, block after block. Against the graying eastthe dwellings of the hill tribes showed in silhouette. The familiar milkwagon was already astir in the streets; the baker's man would soon comeupon the scene; the newspaper carrier was abroad in the land."It strikes me, youngster," said Helberson, "that you and I have beenhaving too much of the morning air lately. It is unwholesome; we need achange. What do you say to a tour in Europe?""When?""I'm not particular. I should suppose that four o'clock this afternoonwould be early enough.""I'll meet you at the boat," said Harper.Seven years afterward these two men sat upon a bench in Madison Square,New York, in familiar conversation. Another man, who had been observingthem for some time, himself unobserved, approached and, courteouslylifting his hat from locks as white as frost, said: "I beg your pardon,gentlemen, but when you have killed a man by coming to life, it is bestto change clothes with him, and at the first opportunity make a breakfor liberty."Helberson and Harper exchanged significant glances. They were obviouslyamused. The former then looked the stranger kindly in the eye andreplied:"That has always been my plan. I entirely agree with you as to itsadvant--"He stopped suddenly, rose and went white. He stared at the man,open-mouthed; he trembled visibly."Ah!" said the stranger, "I see that you are indisposed, Doctor. If youcannot treat yourself Dr. Harper can do something for you, I am sure.""Who the devil are you?" said Harper, bluntly.The stranger came nearer and, bending toward them, said in a whisper: "Icall myself Jarette sometimes, but I don't mind telling you, for oldfriendship, that I am Dr. William Mancher."The revelation brought Harper to his feet. "Mancher!" he cried; andHelberson added: "It is true, by God!""Yes," said the stranger, smiling vaguely, "it is true enough, nodoubt."He hesitated and seemed to be trying to recall something, then beganhumming a popular air. He had apparently forgotten their presence."Look here, Mancher," said the elder of the two, "tell us just whatoccurred that night--to Jarette, you know.""Oh, yes, about Jarette," said the other. "It's odd I should haveneglected to tell you--I tell it so often. You see I knew, byover-hearing him talking to himself, that he was pretty badlyfrightened. So I couldn't resist the temptation to come to life and havea bit of fun out of him--I couldn't really. That was all right, thoughcertainly I did not think he would take it so seriously; I did not,truly. And afterward--well, it was a tough job changing places with him,and then--damn you! you didn't let me out!"Nothing could exceed the ferocity with which these last words weredelivered. Both men stepped back in alarm."We?--why--why," Helberson stammered, losing his self-possessionutterly, "we had nothing to do with it.""Didn't I say you were Drs. Hell-born and Sharper?" inquired the man,laughing."My name is Helberson, yes; and this gentleman is Mr. Harper," repliedthe former, reassured by the laugh. "But we are not physicians now; weare--well, hang it, old man, we are gamblers."And that was the truth."A very good profession--very good, indeed; and, by the way, I hopeSharper here paid over Jarette's money like an honest stakeholder. Avery good and honorable profession," he repeated, thoughtfully, movingcarelessly away; "but I stick to the old one. I am High Supreme MedicalOfficer of the Bloomingdale Asylum; it is my duty to cure thesuperintendent."
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