But you and I, at all events, have known something of the terror that
may dwell in the secret place of life, manifested under human flesh;
that which is without form taking to itself a form. Oh, Austin, how can
it be? How is it that the very sunlight does not turn to blackness
before this thing, the hard earth melt and boil beneath such a burden?' Villiers was pacing up and down the room, and the beads of sweat stood
out on his forehead. Austin sat silent for a while, but Villiers saw him
make a sign upon his breast. 'I say again, Villiers, you will surely never enter such a house as
that? You would never pass out alive.' 'Yes, Austin, I shall go out alive--I, and Clarke with me.' 'What do you mean? You cannot, you would not dare ...'

'Wait a moment. The air was very pleasant and fresh this morning; there
was a breeze blowing, even through this dull street, and I thought I
would take a walk. Piccadilly stretched before me a clear, bright vista,
and the sun flashed on the carriages and on the quivering leaves in the
park. It was a joyous morning, and men and women looked at the sky and
smiled as they went about their work or their pleasure, and the wind
blew as blithely as upon the meadows and the scented gorse. But somehow
or other I got out of the bustle and the gaiety, and found myself
walking slowly along a quiet, dull street, where there seemed to be no
sunshine and no air, and where the few foot-passengers loitered as they
walked, and hung indecisively about corners and archways. I walked
along, hardly knowing where I was going or what I did there, but feeling
impelled, as one sometimes is, to explore still further, with a vague
idea of reaching some unknown goal. Thus I forged up the street, noting
the small traffic of the milk-shop, and wondering at the incongruous
medley of penny pipes, black tobacco, sweets, newspapers, and comic
songs which here and there jostled one another in the short compass of a
single window. I think it was a cold shudder that suddenly passed
through me that first told me that I had found what I wanted. I looked
up from the pavement and stopped before a dusty shop, above which the
lettering had faded, where the red bricks of two hundred years ago had
grimed to black; where the windows had gathered to themselves the fog
and the dirt of winters innumerable. I saw what I required; but I think
it was five minutes before I had steadied myself and could walk in and
ask for it in a cool voice and with a calm face. I think there must
even then have been a tremor in my words, for the old man who came out
from his back parlour, and fumbled slowly amongst his goods, looked
oddly at me as he tied the parcel. I paid what he asked, and stood
leaning by the counter, with a strange reluctance to take up my goods
and go. I asked about the business, and learnt that trade was bad and
the profits cut down sadly; but then the street was not what it was
before traffic had been diverted, but that was done forty years ago,
"just before my father died," he said. I got away at last, and walked
along sharply; it was a dismal street indeed, and I was glad to return
to the bustle and the noise. Would you like to see my purchase?' Austin said nothing, but nodded his head slightly; he still looked white
and sick. Villiers pulled out a drawer in the bamboo table, and showed
Austin a long coil of cord, hard and new; and at one end was a running
noose. 'It is the best hempen cord,' said Villiers, 'just as it used to be made
for the old trade, the man told me. Not an inch of jute from end to
end.' Austin set his teeth hard, and stared at Villiers, growing whiter as he
looked. 'You would not do it,' he murmured at last. 'You would not have blood on
your hands. My God!' he exclaimed, with sudden vehemence, 'you cannot
mean this, Villiers, that you will make yourself a hangman?' 'No. I shall offer a choice, and leave Helen Vaughan alone with this
cord in a locked room for fifteen minutes. If when we go in it is not
done, I shall call the nearest policeman. That is all.' 'I must go now. I cannot stay here any longer; I cannot bear this. Good-night.' 'Good-night, Austin.' The door shut, but in a moment it was opened again, and Austin stood,
white and ghastly, in the entrance. 'I was forgetting,' he said, 'that I too have something to tell. I have
received a letter from Dr. Harding of Buenos Ayres. He says that he
attended Meyrick for three weeks before his death.' 'And does he say what carried him off in the prime of life? It was not
fever?' 'No, it was not fever. According to the doctor, it was an utter collapse
of the whole system, probably caused by some severe shock. But he states
that the patient would tell him nothing, and that he was consequently at
some disadvantage in treating the case.' 'Is there anything more?' 'Yes. Dr. Harding ends his letter by saying: "I think this is all the
information I can give you about your poor friend. He had not been long
in Buenos Ayres, and knew scarcely any one, with the exception of a
person who did not bear the best of characters, and has since left--a
Mrs. Vaughan."' VIII

THE FRAGMENTS

    [Amongst the papers of the well-known physician, Dr. Robert
    Matheson, of Ashley Street, Piccadilly, who died suddenly, of
    apoplectic seizure, at the beginning of 1892, a leaf of manuscript
    paper was found, covered with pencil jottings. These notes were in
    Latin, much abbreviated, and had evidently been made in great haste. The MS. was only deciphered with great difficulty, and some words
    have up to the present time evaded all the efforts of the expert
    employed. The date, 'XXV Jul. 1888,' is written on the right-hand
    corner of the MS. The following is a translation of Dr. Matheson's
    manuscript.] 'Whether science would benefit by these brief notes if they could be
published, I do not know, but rather doubt. But certainly I shall never
take the responsibility of publishing or divulging one word of what is
here written, not only on account of my oath freely given to those two
persons who were present, but also because the details are too
abominable. It is probably that, upon mature consideration, and after
weighing the good and evil, I shall one day destroy this paper, or at
least leave it under seal to my friend D., trusting in his discretion,
to use it or to burn it, as he may think fit. 'As was befitting, I did all that my knowledge suggested to make sure
that I was suffering under no delusion. At first astounded, I could
hardly think, but in a minute's time I was sure that my pulse was steady
and regular, and that I was in my real and true senses. I then fixed my
eyes quietly on what was before me. 'Though horror and revolting nausea rose up within me, and an odour of
corruption choked my breath, I remained firm. I was then privileged or
accursed, I dare not say which, to see that which was on the bed, lying
there black like ink, transformed before my eyes.