Haggopian and Other Stories

I knew that certain witch-doctors of some of this world’s less civilised peoples are known for their habit of serving an intended victim with a warning of his impending doom. The trick is usually accomplished by handing the unfortunate one an evil symbol and—having let him worry himself half to death—the sorcerer then invokes, in the victim’s presence or within his hearing, whichever devil is to do the dirty work. Whether or not any devil actually appears is a different kettle of fish. But one thing is sure—the victim nearly always dies… Naturally, being superstitious and a savage to boot, he dies of fright… Or does he?

At first I believed something of the sort was the case with Symonds and Chambers. One of them, perhaps helped along in some manner, had already worried himself to death and the other was going the same way. Certainly Chambers had been in a bad way regards his nerves when I had seen him. However, my theory was wrong and I soon had to radically revise it. Within a few hours of leaving Blowne House Chambers ’phoned me and he was hysterical.

“I’ve got one, by God! The devil’s sent me one. Listen, Crow. You must come at once. I went for a drink from your place and I’ve just got in. Guess what I found in the hall? An envelope, that’s what, and there’s a damned funny looking card inside it! It’s frightening the daylights out of me. He’s after me! The swine’s after me! Crow, I’ve sent my man home and locked the doors like you said. I can open the front door electronically from my room to let you in when you arrive. You drive a Merc’, don’t you? Yes, thought so. As soon as you say you’ll come I’ll put down the ’phone and disconnect it. Now, will you come?”

I told him I would only be a few minutes and hung up. I dressed quickly and drove straight round to his house. The drive took about fifteen minutes for his place lay on the outskirts of town, near the old Purdy Watermill. The house is completely detached and as I pulled into the driveway I was surprised to note that every light in the house was on—and the main door was swinging open! Then as I slowed to a halt, I was partly blinded by the lights of a second Mercedes which revved up and roared past me out onto the road. I leapt out of my car to try to get the other vehicle’s number but was distracted from this task by the screams which were just starting.

Within seconds, screams of utter horror were pouring from upstairs and, looking up, I saw a dark shadow cast upon a latticed window. The shadow must have been strangely distorted for it had the general outline of a man, yet it was bulky beyond human dimensions—more like the shadow of a gorilla. I watched, hypnotized, as this black caricature clawed frantically at itself—in a manner which I suddenly recognised! The shadow was using the same brushing motions which I had seen Chambers use earlier to brush those leaves from himself in my hallway.

But surely this could not be Chambers? This shadow was that of a far heavier person, someone obese, even allowing for inexplicable distortion! Horrified, I watched, incapable of movement, as the screams rose to an unbearable pitch and the tottering, clawing shadow grew yet larger. Then, abruptly, the screams gurgled into silence, the shadow’s diseased scrabbling at itself became a convulsive heaving and the bloated arms lifted jerkily, as if in supplication. Larger still the monstrous silhouette grew as its owner stumbled, seemingly unseeing, towards the window. And then, briefly as it fell against the thinly latticed panes, I saw it. A great, black imitation of a human, it crashed through the window, shattering the very frame outwards in a tinkling of broken glass and a snapping of fractured lats. Tumbling into the night it came, to fall with a sickening, bone-breaking crunch at my feet.

The broken thing which lay before me on the gravel of the drive was the quite ordinary, quite lifeless body of Cabot Chambers!

When I was able to bring my shrieking nerves under a semblance of control, I dared to prise open the tightly clenched right hand of the corpse and found that which I had guessed would be there. Those stiffening fingers held crushed, brittle shards which I knew had once had the outlines of a card of some sort. On some of the larger pieces I could make out characters which, so far as I know, can only be likened to certain cuneiform inscriptions on the Broken Columns of Geph.