CHAPTER XII--THE CHEST OPENED
Left alone in the turret-room, Edgar Caswall carefully locked the
door and hung a handkerchief over the keyhole. Next, he inspected
the windows, and saw that they were not overlooked from any angle of
the main building. Then he carefully examined the trunk, going over
it with a magnifying glass. He found it intact: the steel bands
were flawless; the whole trunk was compact. After sitting opposite
to it for some time, and the shades of evening beginning to melt
into darkness, he gave up the task and went to his bedroom, after
locking the door of the turret-room behind him and taking away the
key.
He woke in the morning at daylight, and resumed his patient but
unavailing study of the metal trunk. This he continued during the
whole day with the same result--humiliating disappointment, which
overwrought his nerves and made his head ache. The result of the
long strain was seen later in the afternoon, when he sat locked
within the turret-room before the still baffling trunk, distrait,
listless and yet agitated, sunk in a settled gloom. As the dusk was
falling he told the steward to send him two men, strong ones. These
he ordered to take the trunk to his bedroom. In that room he then
sat on into the night, without pausing even to take any food. His
mind was in a whirl, a fever of excitement. The result was that
when, late in the night, he locked himself in his room his brain was
full of odd fancies; he was on the high road to mental disturbance.
He lay down on his bed in the dark, still brooding over the mystery
of the closed trunk.
Gradually he yielded to the influences of silence and darkness.
After lying there quietly for some time, his mind became active
again. But this time there were round him no disturbing influences;
his brain was active and able to work freely and to deal with
memory. A thousand forgotten--or only half-known--incidents,
fragments of conversations or theories long ago guessed at and long
forgotten, crowded on his mind. He seemed to hear again around him
the legions of whirring wings to which he had been so lately
accustomed. Even to himself he knew that that was an effort of
imagination founded on imperfect memory. But he was content that
imagination should work, for out of it might come some solution of
the mystery which surrounded him. And in this frame of mind, sleep
made another and more successful essay. This time he enjoyed
peaceful slumber, restful alike to his wearied body and his
overwrought brain.
In his sleep he arose, and, as if in obedience to some influence
beyond and greater than himself, lifted the great trunk and set it
on a strong table at one side of the room, from which he had
previously removed a quantity of books. To do this, he had to use
an amount of strength which was, he knew, far beyond him in his
normal state. As it was, it seemed easy enough; everything yielded
before his touch. Then he became conscious that somehow--how, he
never could remember--the chest was open. He unlocked his door,
and, taking the chest on his shoulder, carried it up to the turret-
room, the door of which also he unlocked. Even at the time he was
amazed at his own strength, and wondered whence it had come. His
mind, lost in conjecture, was too far off to realise more immediate
things. He knew that the chest was enormously heavy. He seemed, in
a sort of vision which lit up the absolute blackness around, to see
the two sturdy servant men staggering under its great weight. He
locked himself again in the turret-room, and laid the opened chest
on a table, and in the darkness began to unpack it, laying out the
contents, which were mainly of metal and glass--great pieces in
strange forms--on another table. He was conscious of being still
asleep, and of acting rather in obedience to some unseen and unknown
command than in accordance with any reasonable plan, to be followed
by results which he understood. This phase completed, he proceeded
to arrange in order the component parts of some large instruments,
formed mostly of glass. His fingers seemed to have acquired a new
and exquisite subtlety and even a volition of their own. Then
weariness of brain came upon him; his head sank down on his breast,
and little by little everything became wrapped in gloom.
He awoke in the early morning in his bedroom, and looked around him,
now clear-headed, in amazement. In its usual place on the strong
table stood the great steel-hooped chest without lock or key. But
it was now locked. He arose quietly and stole to the turret-room.
There everything was as it had been on the previous evening. He
looked out of the window where high in air flew, as usual, the giant
kite. He unlocked the wicket gate of the turret stair and went out
on the roof. Close to him was the great coil of cord on its reel.
It was humming in the morning breeze, and when he touched the string
it sent a quick thrill through hand and arm. There was no sign
anywhere that there had been any disturbance or displacement of
anything during the night.
Utterly bewildered, he sat down in his room to think. Now for the
first time he FELT that he was asleep and dreaming. Presently he
fell asleep again, and slept for a long time. He awoke hungry and
made a hearty meal. Then towards evening, having locked himself in,
he fell asleep again. When he woke he was in darkness, and was
quite at sea as to his whereabouts. He began feeling about the dark
room, and was recalled to the consequences of his position by the
breaking of a large piece of glass. Having obtained a light, he
discovered this to be a glass wheel, part of an elaborate piece of
mechanism which he must in his sleep have taken from the chest,
which was now opened. He had once again opened it whilst asleep,
but he had no recollection of the circumstances.
Caswall came to the conclusion that there had been some sort of dual
action of his mind, which might lead to some catastrophe or some
discovery of his secret plans; so he resolved to forgo for a while
the pleasure of making discoveries regarding the chest. To this
end, he applied himself to quite another matter--an investigation of
the other treasures and rare objects in his collections. He went
amongst them in simple, idle curiosity, his main object being to
discover some strange item which he might use for experiment with
the kite. He had already resolved to try some runners other than
those made of paper. He had a vague idea that with such a force as
the great kite straining at its leash, this might be used to lift to
the altitude of the kite itself heavier articles. His first
experiment with articles of little but increasing weight was
eminently successful. So he added by degrees more and more weight,
until he found out that the lifting power of the kite was
considerable. He then determined to take a step further, and send
to the kite some of the articles which lay in the steel-hooped
chest. The last time he had opened it in sleep, it had not been
shut again, and he had inserted a wedge so that he could open it at
will. He made examination of the contents, but came to the
conclusion that the glass objects were unsuitable. They were too
light for testing weight, and they were so frail as to be dangerous
to send to such a height.
So he looked around for something more solid with which to
experiment. His eye caught sight of an object which at once
attracted him. This was a small copy of one of the ancient Egyptian
gods--that of Bes, who represented the destructive power of nature.
It was so bizarre and mysterious as to commend itself to his mad
humour. In lifting it from the cabinet, he was struck by its great
weight in proportion to its size. He made accurate examination of
it by the aid of some instruments, and came to the conclusion that
it was carved from a lump of lodestone. He remembered that he had
read somewhere of an ancient Egyptian god cut from a similar
substance, and, thinking it over, he came to the conclusion that he
must have read it in Sir Thomas Brown's POPULAR ERRORS, a book of
the seventeenth century. He got the book from the library, and
looked out the passage:
"A great example we have from the observation of our learned friend
Mr. Graves, in an AEgyptian idol cut out of Loadstone and found
among the Mummies; which still retains its attraction, though
probably taken out of the mine about two thousand years ago."
The strangeness of the figure, and its being so close akin to his
own nature, attracted him. He made from thin wood a large circular
runner, and in front of it placed the weighty god, sending it up to
the flying kite along the throbbing cord.
