Hayden asked no questions, evidently placing the affair entirely in Burke’s hands. He remarked that he would “walk down a ways” with the detective, and await his return.
The two women were still unaware of Burke’s vocation, and accepted without comment Hayden’s statement that Burke was a friend that was to remain over night.
* * * * *
As soon as Burke arrived in town, he went at once to the Chief of Police. Here he inquired for some one qualified to make an examination of the bloodstained splinters. He was directed to a doctor who maintained a laboratory. The latter, after a lengthy analysis, confessed himself puzzled. Something was missing in the composition. He could not account for the peculiar results he obtained. It was human blood--and yet it was not.
Burke returned to the Chief of Police and inquired about the Haydens. The Chief was unable to give Burke any satisfaction, but directed him to an old settler in the vicinity who could probably furnish the desired information.
Burke found the family without trouble. They were willing to talk, but they knew very little about the Haydens--though a good deal about the house.
Over a hundred years before, they said, a widow and her niece had lived in the then new dwelling. The place, a flourishing farm, which had since been cut up and sold off, was managed by the woman’s step-brother. The family were more or less secluded, and seldom seen.
In the course of weeks it was noticed that no one had seen the two women. The brother was at the house alone, and refused to talk. This led to an investigation. No trace of the women was found. The brother was never brought to trial, continued to live on the place until he died of old age, and had prospered. His heirs had taken over the place, and it had been gradually dissipated, until only the house and an acre or so of land remained.
Burke listened politely, then, thanking the old couple, returned to the Hayden house. Hayden was awaiting him.
That evening, Burke sat beside the open fireplace, listening to the low, earnest conversation of the others. The woman and her daughter he observed closely. They seemed to be possessed of some restless emotion that caused them to wander aimlessly around. On the contrary, Hayden appeared to be sluggish and incapable of extended speech. This struck Burke as queer, as he had remarked the vivid description Hayden had given of the attic room.
At ten o’clock the women announced their intention of retiring. Bidding the two men good-night, they withdrew to their rooms. Burke and Hayden, the latter almost stupid and listless in his movements, went up the narrow stairs to the room above.
Both lay on the bed fully robed. Burke saw Hayden take a revolver from his pocket and shove it under his pillow.
“What shall we do?” asked Hayden heavily, seemingly unconscious of anything around him and staring vacantly at the ceiling.
“Well,” replied Burke quietly, “first, we will blow out the lamp.”
He got out of bed and put out the light. Returning, he crawled on the further side of Hayden, leaving Hayden on the outside. Burke had no desire to be on the firing side of the revolver in the event that Hayden should start shooting.
The detective lay for an hour, pondering over the strange case. Finally he spoke to Hayden. The latter did not reply. He was apparently fast asleep. Yet, as Burke listened closely, he could discern no signs of the latter’s breathing.
Burke now experienced a singular emotion aroused by the intense silence of the room. The longer he lay the more impressive it became. Downstairs he heard the low chime of a clock. It struck eleven. The minutes lagged along in the forbidding silence.
The clock chimed the half hour. Fifteen more minutes passed. Hayden, breathing heavily now, commenced to move. Burke half arose on his elbow and listened. Hayden was muttering in his sleep.
Burke eyed the dark shadows of the room with keen eyes. Nothing met his gaze. He glanced to the window. Nothing there. Hayden was suffering tortures in his struggle for breath.
The detective was on the point of shaking him, when, with a heavy, prolonged gasp, Hayden sat up. Burke sensed the horror of the man, yet he remained motionless. His eyes were fixed on the dark, silent room, wandering frequently to the window.
Nothing unusual was to be seen, and he watched the vague form of his bed-mate. The latter was now rigid, struggling with the weight that oppressed his lungs, and apparently staring off into the room. Then, to Burke’s amazement, Hayden started to breathe normally.
“Burke,” he whispered hoarsely, “did you see it? Did you see them pass down the stairs?”
“Eh?” grunted Burke sleepily.
“My God!” muttered Hayden, “you were to watch, and you fall asleep. They have gone down the stairs. They’ll come back again in four or five minutes. Watch!”
Burke made no reply. He, with his wide-awake companion, was staring intently at the window. Suddenly he felt Hayden stiffen.
“The head is just coming up the stairs!” whispered Hayden.
Burke felt the movement of Hayden’s arm as it slid under the pillow. Then came the blinding flash of the revolver and its roar. Twice Hayden pulled the trigger. By that time Burke had flashed on his electric torch. The room was empty. Burke glanced at the floor. No blood was visible.
Hayden was panting and rocking back and forth.
“I feel awful queer,” he groaned. “Something is dragging me.”
Mechanically he arose from the bed and stumbled onto the floor.
“It tells me to kill, _kill_!” he mumbled. “Kill with my revolver. Kill--who shall I kill?”
Burke silently followed the plodding form of the other. With measured steps Hayden stalked to the stairs and passed down, with Burke close behind.
Hayden led the way directly to the room of his sister and niece. Without hesitating, his fingers grasping a loaded “Billy,” Burke trailed close and waited for the moment when he should be needed.
Hayden appeared unconscious of the light furnished by Burke’s torch, nor did he once turn on the short journey. Reaching the side of the bed in which the women were sleeping, he paused and stared rigidly down.
Burke joined him. His light was now on the two women. He was struck by the horrible contortions of the faces, seemingly drawn in agony.
With a sudden premonition, he bent down and felt the motionless forms. The girl’s hand was limp and lifeless. He felt the pulse of the older woman.
_Both were dead!_
* * * * *
The detective turned to Hayden.
He was staring down, dry-eyed.
“I see,” he said stupidly, “both dead. Kill, _kill_--who was I to kill? Not them. They’re dead. Something still tells me to kill!” He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
Burke lit a lamp that stood on a heavy dresser and put out the torch. He stood looking down at the two women. He then noted that the room was growing shadowy. He glanced at the lamp. It was full of oil and the wick seemed to be burning freely, yet the light continued to lower.
Burke again glanced at the two women. Slowly, almost invisibly, he fancied that the agonized features were changing to the repose of death.
Hayden arose and came to the detective’s side. He was muttering and softly moaning. Burke watched him.
Hayden, with a sudden start, looked across the room.
“They’re coming back!” he mumbled, “weaving and twisting.”
His eyes moved slowly from the opposite side of the room as if he were following some moving object. They came to rest on the women’s faces.
“Streaming down their mouths!” he muttered. “They’re sucking in the twisting rolls. _They’re coming to life!_”
Burke glanced at the women. In the dim light he could have sworn that he saw traces of returning life. At that moment there came a crashing report at his side and a blinding flash.
With that, the light flared up bright, and the dead faces were revealed. Burke whirled around.
Hayden was sinking to the floor, a bullet hole in his head, from which the blood was slowly starting to emerge. Burke sank beside the man and lifted his head.
Slowly the heavy form relaxed. Hayden opened his eyes to stare with bewilderment at the detective.
In another moment he was dead.
Burke placed the body on the floor and went to the bed. Once again he endeavored to find a trace of pulse in the still forms. Both were lifeless. He fancied that both dead faces bore a peaceful look, and on the elder woman’s slightly-opened lips there seemed to hover an exultant smile.
Closing the room, Burke got his coat and belongings, then locked up the house. Some hours later he was sitting with the Chief of Police, relating the tragedy. The Chief drove with Burke to the Sheriff of the county, and together they went to the house. The Sheriff had called up the coroner, and they found him waiting for them.
A brief examination of the women revealed that both had died of heart failure, probably induced by some unexplainable shock. Burke took the Sheriff aside. On the detective’s suggestion, they wrecked the attic room in a thorough search. Burke wanted to locate the source of the dropping blood.