The Sleuth of St. James's Square by Melville Davisson Post


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Page 10

The man turned back into the heart of his story.

"I knew by the vague sense of pressure that the devocations of
the thing were again on the way. And I began to suffer in the
spirit for the Master's safety. Interference, both by act and by
the will, were denied me. But there is an anxiety of spirit,
Excellency, that the uncertainty of an issue makes intolerable."

The man paused.

"The pressure continued - and the silence. It was nearly
midnight. I could not distinguish any act or motion of the
Master, and in fear I crept over to the door and looked in
through the crevice along the threshold.

"The Master sat by his table; he was straining forward, his hands
gripping the arms of his chair. His eyes and every tense
instinct of the man were concentrated on the fireplace. The red
light of the embers was in the room. I could see him clearly,
and the table beyond him with the calculations; but the fireplace
seemed strangely out of perspective - it extended above me.

"My gift to the Master, not more than four handbreaths in length,
including the base, stood now like an immense bronze on an
extended marble slab beside a gigantic fireplace. This effect of
extension put the top of the fireplace and the enlarged andiron,
above its pedestal, out of my line of vision. Everything else in
the chamber, holding its normal dimensions, was visible to me.

"The Master's face was a little lifted. He was looking at the
elevated portions of the andiron which were invisible to me. He
did not move. The steady light threw half of his face into
shadow. But in the other half every feature stood out sharply as
in a delicate etching. It had that refined sharpness and
distinction which intense moments of stress stamp on the human
face. He did not move, and there was no sound.

"I have said, Excellency, that my angle of vision along the
crevice of the doorsill was sharply cut midway of this now
enlarged fireplace. From the direction and lift of the Master's
face, he was watching something above this line and directly over
the pedestal of the andiron. I watched, also, flattening my face
against the sill, for the thing to appear.

"And it did appear.

"A naked foot became slowly visible, as though some one were
descending with extreme care from the elevation of the andiron to
the great marble hearth, under this strange enlargement, now some
distance below."

The big Oriental paused, and looked down at me.

"I knew then, Excellency, that the Master was lost! The creative
energies of the Spirit suffer no division of worship; those of
the body must be wholly denied. I had warned the Master. And in
travail, Excellency, I turned over with my face to the floor.

"But there is always hope, hope over the certainties of
experience, over the certainties of knowledge. Perhaps the
Master, even now, sustained in the spirit, would put away the
devocation . . . . No, Excellency, I was not misled. I knew the
Master was beyond hope! But the will to hope moved me, and I
turned back to the crevice at the doorsill."

He paused.

"There was now a delicate odor, everywhere, faintly, like the
blossom of the little bitter apple here in your country. The red
embers in the fireplace gave out a steady light; and in the glow
of it, on the marble hearth, stood the one who had descended from
the elevation of the andiron."

Again the man hesitated, as for an accurate method of expression.

"In the flesh, Excellency, there was color that would not appear
in the image. The hair was yellow, and the eyes were blue; and
against the black marble of the fireplace the body was
conspicuously white. But in every other aspect of her,
Excellency, the woman was on the hearth in the flesh as she is in
the clutch of the savage male figure in the image.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 24th Feb 2025, 9:06