Kabanata Kabanata 12 · THE CHEST OPENED

. 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.