The Terror by Night By Charles Willard Diffin Read online

  Strange Tales, January, 1933

  The Terror by Night

  By Charles Willard Diffin

  NE by one the twelve men and women

  inscrutable, so unchanging through all the

  filed in and faced the prisoner. And

  long days of the trial, locked with theirs

  O the man before them, still mute, stood steadily and unflinchingly.

  quietly, with his fine gray head erect, while he Then the judge spoke, though only

  met with expressionless eyes the gaze of each

  fragments of his denunciation reached the

  juror in turn.

  conscious mind of the man before him.

  “Guilty,” the foreman said, and the

  “... This hideous crime ... most cold-

  gray eyes, which had been so unyielding, blooded— most revolting murder that has ever

  Strange Tales

  2

  ... your education, your training, your wealth

  seated at his right. One hand of each was held

  and standing in this community ... your refusal

  in each of his. Two or three others were there

  to defend yourself, if intended to elicit too, all good friends. Directly across from sympathy, has failed ... the court is glad there him, hidden in the darkness, was his wife,

  has been no recommendation for mercy....”

  Betty Whitmore; and in the same concealing

  Until at last the bare white walls darkness there was, of course, the medium echoed again the fateful words they had so

  who was conducting the séance.

  often heard: “The judgment of this court is

  Even in the utter blackness of the great

  that you shall be hanged by the neck until you

  living-room where heavy drapes had been

  are dead!” And only then did the steady gray

  drawn across every window, Whitmore might

  eyes close, and, for an instant, the man falter

  have sent an unseen smile toward the blond

  like a fighter struck to the heart.

  head of the beautiful girl he called Betty. He

  Hanged by the neck until you are was looking toward her now but he was not dead! Only hard, calloused and unfeeling smiling. Rather, his eyes, wide in the nerves can remain unmoved by those words,

  darkness, were trying to focus upon something

  and this man was not entirely unaffected. But

  closer by.

  when the stern voice had ceased he bowed

  Smoke in the moonlight—in a room

  slightly toward the judge, then whirled quickly

  that held neither smoke nor light! Lazily

  to face the spectators in the courtroom.

  twisting convolutions of gray-green; almost

  Somewhere in that crowded room was

  invisible, almost unreal! Yet it was there, a

  a pair of eyes that met his in understanding....

  ghostly mist that rolled lazily in the darkness

  “They’ve had all the facts. Jim,” he

  where only its own dim light could be seen.

  called in a clear voice, and for one fleeting

  And then from the mist came

  instant his lips twitched in a wry, enigmatical

  something more substantial. Formless at first,

  smile, “they’ve had the facts. When it’s all

  it hardened, took on shape and substance, until

  over, you give them the truth—the whole it became a hand, a woman’s hand ... and damnable truth! They won’t believe it, but tell

  Whitmore released the living human hand of

  them anyway—” Then the sound of the the woman at his right and reached out in slow judge’s gavel.

  wonder to touch that other ghostly hand before

  him.

  FACTS sent that silent man to the gallows.

  Slender, soft and warm, it clasped his

  Sent him with a smile on lips that had almost

  own fingers; and then, while still he held it in forgotten how to smile and with glad welcome

  amazement, it was gone, melted to mist within

  for the release which only death could bring.

  his grasp.

  He did not want to die—not by hanging—but,

  “Great!” he exclaimed when the lights

  God knows, he certainly didn’t want to live.

  were on. “That’s great, I tell you. You all saw

  “Tell them the truth,” he ordered. And,

  it, but I touched it. I took right hold of it. It may God help him wherever he is now, this is

  was real, material, a genuine materialization.”

  the truth:

  “I don’t like it,” said Betty. “I don’t

  like it a bit, Jack. I’m going to be honest,”—

  IN the darkened room Whitmore raised his

  her voice trembled a little here—“I’m going to

  head that had drooped sleepily. He could see

  admit I’m afraid.”

  nothing at first; but the touch of the table

  “Afraid?” laughed Whitmore. “Afraid

  about which they were seated was reassuring.

  of a woman’s hand? Great Scott, Betty, I

  On his left was Jim; and Jim’s wife, Sally, was

  didn’t know you were that jealous.”

  The Terror by Night

  3

  She whirled sharply on them at Jack’s remark.

  ELIZABETH WHITMORE tried to smile in

  “No.” she said sharply. “C’est

  response, but appeared to find it difficult. impossible! I forbid!”

  “No,” she said slowly, and her lovely violet

  And again Whitmore laughed, this

  eyes were troubled as they rested upon her

  time more to cover his annoyance than from

  husband and the flush of enthusiasm that had

  any appreciation of the unintentional humor of

  swept his face. “No,” she repeated slowly.

  this woman’s command.

  “Not afraid of a woman’s hand. But Jack,

  “Oh, come now—” he began; and

  dear, what else is there where that came from?

  again she cut him short.

  How do we know it will always be a kindly

  “Listen,” she exclaimed. “I tell you

  hand? How do we know it will be human?”

  somesing—

  It was the medium who cut short Jack

  “I did not do that which to-night you

  Whitmore’s roaring laughter. She was a have behold. I am ze voice medium: always foreigner, short and squat. The fat folds of her do my controls speak with ze voice. In all my

  face perspired easily. But her eyes buried in

  life nevaire have I produced ze

  those folds could still flash fire.

  materialization. Someone else has made to

  “Monsieur laughs too easily,” she accomplish this. It was yourself, I think, snapped. “Ze little lady, she is right. There is Monsieur, who was ze medium tonight.”

  more things out there zan what you call

  The door closed noisily, and Whitmore

  human. Some are not human yet. In time zey

  crossed to a big French plate to regard himself

  will be—maybe! And some—” The eyes now

  in the mirror. “J. P. Whitmore, Medium!” he

  were completely lost in the folds of that fat

  announced. “Rea
dings by appointment only.

  face that was twisted into lines of horror I’m going to be good, Betty; wait till you see which seemed somehow absurd. She uttered a

  me in my full regalia.”

  series of quick exclamations.

  Then, at sight of the troubled look in

  “Some of zese things, zey are not the violet eyes, he threw one arm about his dead; zey have nevaire lived—not like you

  wife and waltzed her gaily back into the room

  and me.”

  where the others waited.

  Here she shrugged her ample shoulders

  “Ze circle, she will form about ze

  in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring.

  table,” he announced in burlesque imitation of

  “But nos-sing is to fear,” she told Elizabeth

  the medium. “Boys and girls, you are about to

  Whitmore. “I protect myself; I protect you,

  see something real in the way of

  always!”

  materializations.” He was reaching for the

  “All right,” Whitmore agreed. “You

  light switch as he spoke.

  seem to know your stuff, anyway. I’ll take

  your word for all that.

  IT was perhaps a half hour later that Elizabeth

  “Twenty, I think you said.” He was

  Whitmore screamed. A heavy chair crashed in

  writing a check and doubled the amount as he

  splintered fragments in the far corner of the

  wrote, then slipped it into the woman’s hand.

  room. Then her voice cut the darkness with

  “We’ll expect you next week this same time.

  the keen lash of terror:

  And in the meantime we may have a séance or

  “Jack, it’s touching me! Its hair—all

  two of our own.”

  matted and shaggy!” Again she screamed,

  “Jack, help me; take it away! Take it—”

  THE medium had reached the outer door, both

  She was still standing, a pathetic figure

  Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore accompanying her.

  in the middle of the room, when the lights

  Strange Tales

  4

  flashed on. Her eyes were wide with terror,

  there was no least thought of fear to distort the hands outstretched, as if warding off the thing

  calm judgment of J. P. Whitmore.

  those eyes had seen. And in that timeless

  So, too, on the following night, though

  second, while yet she stood stiffly erect, there the horror of it was still with him, and though

  dropped from her hand to the rug below three

  still at times he seemed to be filled again with flecks of white foam that might have clung to

  that revolting odor, there still was no fear.

  the jowls and slavering mouth of some Even horror had been mastered by a stronger prowling beast.

  urge.

  Her eyes were still round with fright as

  Curiosity, and something more than

  she fell unconscious to the floor. Jack curiosity—he was possessed by a wild, Whitmore leaped in the same instant and insatiable desire to know more of this. And managed to save her from the worst of the fall.

  even the imploring look in the lovely eyes of

  Her weight drew him down; he was half-

  Elizabeth Whitmore could not deter him.

  fallen, half-stooped, above her when one of

  “Jack,” she said through bloodless lips,

  her hands that had been tightly clasped fell

  “—that thing! How can you want to know open directly below her face. And Whitmore

  more—see more—of it? It “wasn’t”—she

  threw himself back with a strangled oath.

  paused at a loss for a suitable word—“it

  “Look!” he choked. “Hair! Matted hair

  wasn’t decent, Jack! I’ve tried to tell you—but and flesh!”

  I can’t!”

  He was staring at a dark mass in

  “No,” Whitmore agreed slowly, “it

  Elizabeth’s opened hand—a clump of clotted

  was too utterly damnable for words; but just

  black hair—and, hanging to it, a mass of what

  what it was, just where it came from, I’m

  might have been flesh from which every going to know.” And no arguments or vestige of blood had been drained ... and his

  entreaties from his wife could change that

  own eyes opened wide with horror as he saw

  decision.

  that hair and flesh undergoing a change.

  “You’ll not be there, nor any of the

  Its paleness turned purple; then was

  others,” he told her. “I don’t know that I can

  transformed to iridescent, brown ooze—until

  get the results alone, but I’m going to try,

  only a pool of horrible liquid lay in the palm

  Betty.”

  of Elizabeth Whitmore’s inert, unmoving

  Entirely lovely was Elizabeth

  hand. The black clot of hair was the last thing

  Whitmore as she stood beneath the rose light

  to go ... then that, too, was gone, and in the

  of her boudoir, her robe of filmy lace falling

  nostrils of every person in the room was that

  softly about her; and her husband took her in

  stench which can carry only one suggestion—

  his arms for one moment to kiss away the

  death and dissolution.

  tears which were so near the surface of those

  beautiful eyes. “Lord, but you’re an angel,

  TO almost every man there comes at times

  Betty!” he exclaimed. “And don’t you

  that heart-freezing, blood-congealing

  worry—not for a minute. I can take care of

  sensation we know as fear. Yet Jack myself.”

  Whitmore, had he been pressed for an answer,

  might have admitted laughingly and with “AN angel,” he was repeating as he went entire honesty that to him fear was an down the broad staircase, “—and I think it’s unknown emotion. And on this night, something pretty damn close to the other whatever there may have been of terror in the

  extreme that I’m looking for to-night!” He

  minds and hearts of the others in that room,

  jerked savagely at the weighted cord that drew

  The Terror by Night

  5

  the heavy drapes across the living-room stop anything that’s able to move,” he had told windows, then seated himself in the same

  himself an hour before. But now he was not so

  place at the table.

  confident—not here in the dark where some

  He did not know how to bring the

  strange power had already reached out to

  results he was after. He could only sit in the

  paralyze his muscles; where something that

  dark that was almost tangible, where it seemed

  had become invisible still hovered, its

  that the blackness was something that he could

  presence made known to him by that strange

  reach out and actually take in his two hands.

  sense. No, decidedly, even the clutch of a

  And at last the turmoil within his mind heavy caliber gun did not instill its customary subsided. He was thinking of Betty, and, confidence. And with that feeling of

  “Lord, but I’m one lucky man,” he was telling

  helplessness there came to Mr. Whitmore the

  himself, when something drove these knowledge of fear.

  wandering thoughts out of his mind.

  He tried to raise the gun and found it

  It was not fear, but a prickli
ng too heavy for his waning strength. He could sensation that almost stung him as it moved

  not move; and suddenly, with a sharp

  swiftly up his spine. He knew now he had felt

  abruptness that sent a chill along his spine, he it the night before, and now there came, too, a

  knew that he must move; he knew with a

  lethargy that swept quickly through him.

  knowledge that transcended all sense of sight

  How he knew it was the same thing

  or sound that something unthinkably beastly

  that had returned, Whitmore could never have

  and vile was coming toward him, closer ...

  explained, but he knew it by some new and

  closer....

  added sense when first that ghostly

  Jack Whitmore had yet to learn the full

  glimmering appeared in the far corner of the

  meaning of fear. The understanding of its

  room. Certainly he could not have recognized

  uttermost depths was to come later. But, for

  it by sight for in this place of darkness his

  the first time in his life, beads of cold

  eyes were of little use. Only by some inner

  perspiration gathered slowly across his

  vision did he know that here was no clumsy

  forehead and trickled into his eyes. And

  body such as Elizabeth’s description had led

  then—

  him to expect, yet knew, too, that it was the

  Those velvet shades he had drawn so

  same fearful visitor as before.

  savagely across the window were hung on iron

  A waving cloud of gray-green light

  rings; sharply now through the silence he

  that spread out over the floor, that reached

  heard them tinkle. He heard one slip with a