Free Haunted Castles by Ray Russell Page A

as soon embrace a reptile.”
    Sardonicus arose and put on his shirt. “I suggest we both begin dressing for dinner,” he said. “Whilst you are dressing, reflect. Ask yourself, Sir Robert: could you ever again look upon yourself with other than shame and loathing if you were to sacrifice the beautiful and blameless Maude Randall on an altar of the grossest depravity? Consider how ill you would sleep in your London bed, night after night, knowing what she was suffering at that very moment; suffering because
you
abandoned her, because
you
allowed her to become an entertainment for a monster.”

VIII
A TOKEN OF DETESTATION
    T he days that passed after that time were, in the main, tedious yet filled with anxiety. During them, certain supplies were being brought from London and other places; Sardonicus spared no expense in procuring for me everything I said was necessary to the treatment. I avoided his society as much as I could, shunning even his table, and instructing the servants to bring my meals to my rooms. On the other hand, I sought out the company of Maude, endeavouring to comfort her and allay her fears. In those hours when her husband was occupied with business affairs, we talked together in the salon, and played music. Thus, they were days spotted with small pleasures that seemed the greater for having been snatched in the shadow of wretchedness.
    I grew to know Maude, in that time, better than I had ever known her in London. Adversity stripped the layers of ceremony from our congress, and we spoke directly. I came to know her warmth, but I came to know her strength, too. I spoke outright of my love, though in the next breath I assured her I was aware of the hopelessness of that love. I did not tell her of the “reward” her husband had offered me—and which I had refused—and I was gladdened to learn (as I did by indirection) that Sardonicus, though he had abjured her to be excessively cordial to me, had not revealed the ultimate and ignoble purpose of that cordiality.
    â€œRobert,” she said once, “is it likely that he will be cured?”
    I did not tell her how unlikely it was. “For your sake, Maude,” I said, “I will persevere more than I have ever done in my life.”
    At length, a day arrived when all the necessaries had been gathered: some plants from the New World, certain equipment from London, and a vital instrument from Scotland. I worked long and late, in complete solitude, distilling a needed liquor from the plants. The next day, dogs were brought to me alive, and carried out dead. Three days after that, a dog left my laboratory alive and my distilling labours came to an end.
    I informed Sardonicus that I was ready to administer the treatment. He came to my laboratory, and I imagined there was almost a gloating triumph in his immobile smile. “Such are the fruits of concentrated effort,” he said. “Man is an indolent creature, but light the fire of fear under him, and of what miracles is he not capable!”
    â€œSpeak not of miracles,” I said, “though prayers would do you no harm now, for you will soon be in peril of your life.” I motioned him towards a table and bade him lie upon it. He did so, and I commenced explaining the treatment to him. “The explorer Magellan,” I said, “wrote of a substance used on darts by the savage inhabitants of the South American continent. It killed instantly, dropping large animals in their tracks. The substance was derived from certain plants, and is, in essence, the same substance I have been occupied in extracting these past days.”
    â€œA poison, Sir Robert?” he asked, wryly.
    â€œWhen used full strength,” I said, “it kills by bringing about a
total
relaxation of the muscles—particularly the muscles of the lungs and heart. I have long thought that a dilution of that poison might beneficially slacken the rigidly tensed muscles of