Manly Wade Wellman - Judge Pursuivant 01 (12 page)

 
          
 
The gaunt constable shook his head. "Not
much, mister. I'm in on whatever searching is done. I've got something to
settle with whatever killed my kid brother."

 
          
 
"But there are only three lanterns,"
pointed out Judge Pursuivant. "We have to carry them -
light's
our best weapon."

 
          
 
Zoberg then spoke up, rather diffidently, to
say that he would be glad to stay with Susan. This was agreed upon, and the
other three of us prepared for the search.

 
          
 
I took the lantern from Zoberg's hand, nodded to
the others, and walked away among the trees.

           
 
"I was - I AM - a wolf!”

 
          
 
Deliberately I had turned my face toward the
section beyond the fire, for, as I have said repeatedly, it was there that I
had heard the movements and cries of the being that had so strongly moved and
bewitched Susan. My heart whispered rather loudly that I must look for myself
at its traces or lack of them, or forever view myself with scorn.

 
          
 
Almost at once I found tracks, the booted
tracks of my three allies. Shaking my lantern to make it flare higher, I went
deeper among the clumps, my eyes quartering the damp earth. After a few moments
I found what I had come to look for.

 
          
 
The marks were round and rather vague as to
toe-positions, yet not so clear-cut as to be made by hoofs. Rather they
suggested a malformed stump or a palm with no fingers, and they were deep
enough to denote considerable weight; the tracks of my own shoes, next to them,
were rather shallower. I bent for a close look, then straightened up, looked
everywhere at once, and held my torch above my head to shed light all around;
for I had suddenly felt eyes upon me.

 
          
 
I caught just a glimpse as of two points of
light, fading away into some leafage and in the direction of the clearing, and
toward them I made my way; but there was nothing there, and the only tracks
underfoot were of shod human beings,
myself
or one of
the others. I returned to my outward search, following the round tracks.

 
          
 
They were plainly of only two feet - there
were no double impressions, like those of a quadruped - but I must have stalked
along them for ten minutes when I realized that I had no way of telling whether
they went forward or backward. I might be going away from my enemy instead of
toward it. A close examination did me little good, and I further pondered that
the creature would lurk near the clearing, not go so straight away. Thus
arguing within myself, I doubled back.

 
          
 
Coming again close to the starting-point, I
thought of a quick visit to the clearing and a comforting word or two with
Susan and Zoberg. Surely I was almost there; but why did not the fire gleam
through the trees? Were they out of wood? Perplexed, I quickened my pace. A
gnarled tree grew in my path, its low branches heavily bearded with vines.
Beyond this rose only the faintest of glows. I paused to push aside some
strands and peer.

 
          
 
The fire had almost died, and by its light I
but half saw two figures, one tall and one slender, standing together well to
one side. They faced each other, and the taller - a seeming statue of
wet-looking gray - held its companion by a shoulder. The other gray hand was
stroking the smaller one's head, pouring grayness thereon.

 
          
 
I saw only this much, without stopping to
judge or to wonder. Then I yelled, and sprang into the clearing. At my outcry
the two fell apart and faced me. The smallest was Susan, who took a step in my
direction and gave a little smothered whimper, as though she was trying to
speak through a blanket. I ran to her side, and with a rough sweep of my sleeve
I cleared from her face and head a mass of slimy, shiny jelly.

 
          
 
"You!"
I
challenged the other shape. "What have you been trying to do to her?"

 
          
 
For only a breathing-space it stood still, as
featureless and clumsy as a half-formed figure of gray mud. Then darkness
sprang out upon it, and hair. Eyes blazed at me, green and fearsome. A sharp
muzzle opened to emit a snarl.

 
          
 
"Now I know you," I hurled at it.
"I'm going to kill you."

 
          
 
And I charged.

 
          
 
Claws ripped at my head, missed and tore the
cloth of my coat. One of my arms shot around a lean, hairy middle with powerful
muscles straining under its skin, and I drove my other fist for where I judged
the pit of the stomach to be. Grappled, we fell and rolled over. The beast
smell I remembered was all about us, and I knew that jaws were shoving once
again at my throat. I jammed my forearm between them, so far into the hinge
of them
that they could not close nor crush. My other hand
clutched the skin of the throat, a great loose fistful, drew it taut and began
to twist with all my strength. I heard a half-broken yelp of strangled pain,
felt a slackening of the body that struggled against me, knew that it was
trying to get away. But I managed to roll on top, straddling the thing.

 
          
 
"You're not so good on defense," I
panted, and brought my other hand to the throat, for I had no other idea save
to kill. Paws grasped and tore at my wrists. There was shouting at my back, in
Susan's voice and several others. Hands caught me by the shoulders and tried to
pull me up and away.

 
          
 
"No!" I cried. "This is it, the
werewolf!"

 
          
 
"It's Doctor Zoberg, you idiot,"
growled O'Bryant in my ear. "Come on, let him up."

 
          
 
"Yes," added Judge Pursuivant,
"it's Doctor Zoberg, as you say; but a moment ago it was the monster we
have been hunting."

 
          
 
I had been dragged upright by now, and so had
Zoberg. He could only choke and glare for the time being, his fingers to his
half-crushed throat. Pursuivant had moved within clutching distance of him, and
was eyeing him as a cat eyes a mouse.

 
          
 
"Like Wills, I only pretended to search,
then doubled back to watch," went on the judge. "I saw Zoberg and
Miss Susan talking. He spoke quietly, rhythmically, commandingly. She went into
half a trance, and I knew she was hypnotized.

 
          
 
"As the fire died down, he began the
change. Ectoplasm gushed out and over him. Before it took form, he began to
smear some upon her. And Mr Wills here came out of the woods and at him."

 
          
 
O'Bryant looked from the judge to Zoberg. Then
he fumbled with his undamaged hand in a hip pocket, produced handcuffs and
stepped forward. The accused man grinned through his beard, as if admitting
defeat in some trifling game. Then he held out his wrists with an air of
resignation and I, who had manacled them once, wondered again at their corded
strength. The irons clicked shut upon one, then the other.

 
          
 
"You know everything now," said
Zoberg, in a soft voice but a steady one. "I was - I am - a wolf; a wolf
who hoped to mate with an angel."

 
          
 
His bright eyes rested upon Susan, who shrank
back. Judge Pursuivant took a step toward the prisoner.

 
          
 
"There is no need for you to insult
her," he said.

 
          
 
Zoberg grinned at him, with every long tooth
agleam. "Do you want to hear my confession, or don't you?"

 
          
 
"Sure we want to hear it," grunted
O'Bryant. "Leave him alone, judge, and let him talk." He glanced at
me. "Got any paper, Mr Wills? Somebody better take this down in
writing."

 
          
 
I produced a wad of note-paper and a stub
pencil. Placing it upon my knee, with the lantern for light, I scribbled,
almost word for word, the tale that Doctor Zoberg told.

           
 
''And that is the end."

 
          
 
"Perhaps I was bom what I am," he
began. "At least, even as a lad I knew that there was a lust and a power
for evil within me. Night called to me, where it frightens most children. I
would slip out of my father's house and run for miles, under the trees or
across fields, with the moon for company. This was in Germany, of course,
before the war."

 
          
 
"During the war
-
"
began Judge Pursuivant.

 
          
 
"During the war, when most men were
fighting, I was in prison." Again Zoberg grinned, briefly and without
cheer. "I had found it easy and inspiring to kill persons, with a sense of
added strength following. But they caught me and put me in what they called an
asylum. I was supposed to be crazy. They confined me closely, but I, reading
books in the library, grew to know what the change was that came upon me at
certain intervals. I turned my attention to it, and became able to control the
change, bringing it on or holding it off at will."

 
          
 
He looked at Susan again. "But I'm ahead
of my story. Once, when I was at school, I met a girl - an American student of
science and philosophy. She laughed at my wooing, but talked to me about
spirits and psychical phenomena. That, my dear Susan, was your mother. When the
end of the war brought so many new things, it also brought a different
viewpoint toward many inmates of asylums. Some Viennese doctors, and later
Sigmund Freud himself, found my case interesting. Of course, they did not
arrive at the real truth, or they would not have procured my release."

 
          
 
"After that," I supplied, writing
swiftly, "
you
became an expert psychical
investigator and journeyed to America."

 
          
 
"Yes, to find the girl who had once
laughed and studied with me. After some years I came to this town, simply to
trace the legend of this Devil's Croft. And here, I found, she had lived and
died, and left behind a daughter that was her image."

 
          
 
Judge Pursuivant cleared his throat. "I
suspect that you're leaving out part of your adventures.
Doctor."

 
          
 
Zoberg actually laughed. "Ah, I thought
to spare you a few shocks. But if you will have them, you may. I visited Russia
- and in 1922 a medical commission of the Soviet Union investigated several
score mysterious cases of peasants killed - and eaten." He licked his
lips, like a cat who thinks of meat. "In Paris I founded and conducted a
rather interesting night school, for the study of diabolism in its relationship
to science. And in 1936, certain summer vacationists on Long Island were almost
frightened out of their wits by a lurking thing that seemed half beast, half
man." He chuckled. "Your Literary Digest made much of it. The lurking
thing was, of course,
myself
."

 
          
 
We stared. "Say, why do you do these
things?" the constable blurted.

 
          
 
Zoberg turned to him, head quizzically aslant.
"Why do you uphold your local laws? Or why does Judge Pursuivant study
ancient philosophies? Or why do Wills and Susan turn soft eyes upon each other?
Because the heart of each so insists."

 
          
 
Susan was clutching my arm. Her fingers bit
into my flesh as Zoberg's eyes sought her again.

 
          
 
"I found the daughter of someone I once
loved," he went on, with real gentleness in his voice. "Wills, at
least, can see in her what I saw. A new inspiration came to me, a wish and a
plan to have a comrade in my secret exploits."

 
          
 
"A beast-thing like
yourself
?"
prompted the judge.

 
          
 
Zoberg nodded.
"A lupa
to my lupus.
But this girl - Susan Gird -had not inherited the psychic
possibilities of her mother."

 
          
 
"What!" I shouted. "You
yourself said that she was the greatest medium of all time!"

 
          
 
"I did say so. But it was a lie."

 
          
 
"Why, in heaven's name
-
"

 
          
 
"It was my hope," he broke in
quietly, "to make of her a medium, or a lycanthrope - call the phenomenon
which you will. Are you interested in my proposed method?" He gazed
mockingly around, and his eyes rested finally upon me. "Make full notes,
Wills. This will be interesting, if not stupefying, to the psychic research
committees.

 
          
 
"It is, as you know, a supernormal
substance that is exuded to change the appearance of my body. What, I wondered,
would some of that substance do if smeared upon her?"

 
          
 
I started to growl out a curse upon him, but
Judge Pursuivant, rapt, motioned for me to keep silent.

 
          
 
"Think back through all the demonologies
you have read," Zoberg was urging. "What of the strange 'witch
ointments' that, spread over an ordinary human body, gave it beast-form and
beast-heart? There, again, legend had basis in scientific fact."

 
          
 
"By the thunder, you're logical,"
muttered Judge Pursuivant.

 
          
 
"And damnable," I added. "Go
on, Doctor. You were going to smear the change-stuff upon Susan."

 
          
 
"But first, I knew, I must convince her
that she had within her the essence of a wolf.
And so, the
seance."

 
          
 
"She was no medium," I said again.

 
          
 
"I made her think she was. I hypnotized
her, and
myself
did weird wonders in the dark room.
But she, in a trance, did not know. I needed witnesses to convince her."

 
          
 
"So you invited Mr Wills," supplied
Judge Pursuivant.

 
          
 
"
Yes,
and her
father. They had been prepared to accept her as medium and me as observer.
Seeing a beast-form, they would tell her afterward that it was she."

 
          
 
"Zoberg," I said between set teeth,
"you're convicted out of your own mouth of rottenness that convinces me of
the existence of the Devil after whom this grove was named. I wish to heaven
that I'd killed you when we were fighting."

 
          
 
"Ahh, Wills," he chuckled,
"you'd have missed this most entertaining autobiographical lecture."

 
          
 
"He's right," grumbled O'Bryant;
and, "Let him go on," the judge pleaded with me.

 
          
 
"Once sure of this power within
her," Zoberg said deeply, "she would be prepared in heart and soul to
change at touch of the ointment - the ectoplasm. Then, to me she must turn as a
fellow-creature. Together, throughout the world, adventuring in a way
unbelievable
- "

 
          
 
His voice died, and we let it. He stood in the
firelight, head thrown back, manacled hands folded. He might have been a martyr
instead of a fiend for whom a death at the stake would be too easy.

 
          
 
"I can tell what spoiled the
seance," I told him after a moment. "Gird, sitting opposite, saw that
it was you, not Susan, who had changed. You had to kill him to keep him from
telling, there and then."

 
          
 
"Yes," agreed Zoberg. "After
that, you were arrested, and, later, threatened. I was in an awkward position.
Susan must believe herself, not you, guilty. That is why I have championed you
throughout. I went then to look for you."

 
          
 
"And attacked me," I added.

 
          
 
"The beast-self was ascendant. I cannot
always control it completely." He sighed. "When Susan disappeared, I
went to look for her on the second evening. When I came into this wood, the
change took place, half automatically. Associations, I suppose. Constable, your
brother happened upon me in an evil hour."

 
          
 
"Yep," said O'Bryant gruffly.

 
          
 
"And that is the end," Zoberg said.
"The end of the story and, I suppose, the end of me."

 
          
 
"You bet it is," the constable
assured him. "You came with the judge to finish your rotten work. But
we're finishing it for you."

 
          
 
"One moment," interjected Judge
Pursuivant, and his fire-lit face betrayed a perplexed frown. "The story
fails to explain one important thing."

 
          
 
"Does it so?" prompted Zoberg, inclining
toward him with a show of negligent grace.

 
          
 
"If you were able to free yourself and
kill Mr Gird
- "

 
          
 
"By heaven, that's right!" I broke
in. "You were chained, Zoberg, to Susan and to your chair. I'd go bail for
the strength and tightness of those handcuffs."

 
          
 
He grinned at each of us in turn and held out
his hands with their manacles. "Is it not obvious?" he inquired.

 
          
 
We looked at him, a trifle blankly I suppose,
for he chuckled once again.

 
          
 
"Another employment of the ectoplasm,
that useful substance of change," he said gently. "At will my arms
and legs assume thickness, and hold the rings of the confining irons wide.
Then, when I wish, they grow slender again, and
- "

 
          
 
He gave his hands a sudden flirt, and the
bracelets fell from them on the instant. He pivoted and ran like a deer.

 
          
 
"Shoot!" cried the judge, and
O'Bryant whipped the big gun from his holster.

 
          
 
Zoberg was almost within a vine-laced clump of
bushes when O'Bryant fired. I heard a shrill scream, and saw Zoberg falter and
drop to his hands and knees.

 
          
 
We were all starting forward. I paused a
moment to put Susan behind me, and in that moment O'Bryant and Pursuivant
sprang ahead and came up on either side of Zoberg. He was still alive, for he
writhed up to a kneeling p>osition and made a frantic clutch at the judge's
coat. O'Bryant, so close that he barely raised his hand and arm, fired a second
time.

 
          
 
Zoberg spun around somehow on his knees,
stiffened and screamed. Perhaps I should say that he howled. In his voice was the
inarticulate agony of a beast wounded to death. Then he collapsed.

 
          
 
Both men stooped above him, cautious but
thorough in their examination. Finally Judge Pursuivant straightened up and
faced toward us.

 
          
 
"Keep Miss Susan there with you," he
warned me. "He's dead, and not a pretty sight."

 
          
 
Slowly they came back to us. Pursuivant was
thoughtful, while O'Bryant, Zoberg's killer, seemed cheerful for the first time
since I had met him. He even smiled at me, as Punch would smile after striking
a particularly telling blow with his cudgel. Rubbing his pistol caressingly
with his palm, he stowed it carefully away.