Part 1 (1/2)
GHOST HUNTERS AND PSYCHIC DETECTIVES.
9 Cla.s.sic Tales of Sleuthing and the Supernatural.
Edited by JEAN MARIE STINE.
INTRODUCTION.
Here are nine fascinating, shuddery tales about those most overlooked of sleuths a” the ghost hunters and psychic detectives who spiced up the pages of turn-of-the century magazines. Equipped with a deep knowledge of things occult a” often with a pinch of paranormal power themselves a” these bloodhounds of the borderland pick up where more mundane detectives like the immortal Sherlock Holmes or Miss Jane Marple leave off. When the likes of Mason Bell, Dr. Munsing, Quinn's Jules DeGrandon, Moris Klaw, Flaxman Low, or Carnacki are on the trail, you can be sure the explanation for eerie and ectoplasmic doings will never involve some mundane trick like painting a hound's jaws with phosphorous. The ghost down the hall or the werewolf at the window, the awful demon seeking vengeance from another dimension, will all turn out to be very real indeed.
Just as real-life private detectives served as the inspiration for fictional ones, so real-life psychic detectives and ghost hunters served as the inspiration for the fictive ones. The newspapers of the 1920s were full of the exploits of Milwaukee's Arthur P. Roberts, known as ”the Great Welch Prophet” or ”the Psychic Detective.” Famed for his ability to ferret out murders psychically while in a trance, one newspaper reproduces a letter from a J. D. Leroy of Chicago whose missing brother's body was found murdered exactly where Roberts had said it would be. In more recent times, psychic investigator Hans Holzer has written of his own experiences in the noted bookGhost Hunter . In some instances, the late psychic Edgar Casey functioned as a kind of detective, gathering his clues on the astral plane, as recounted in a number of biographies.
This anthology brings together nine rare and vintage tales of ghost hunters and psychic sleuths. In it you will meet such legendary, and nearly forgotten fictive pract.i.tioners as Gordon Acreage's Dr. Munsing in ”The Exorcist”; Sea bury Quinn's Jules DeGrandon in ”Body and Soul”; Sax Rohmer's Moris Klaw in ”The Headless Mummies”; E. and H. Heron's Flaxman Low in ”The Grey House”; T. Meade and Robert Eustace's Bell, Master of Mystery in ”The Warder of the Door”; Conrad Richter's Mason Bell in ”The Toad Man”; William Hope Hodgson's Carnacki, Ghost Finder, in ”The Whistling Room”; Victor Rousseau's Ivan Brodsky, Surgeon of Souls, in ”The Tenth Commandment”; and Algernon Blackwood's John Silence in ”A Victim of Higher s.p.a.ce.” Don't be surprised if reading their cases proves addictive, and you find yourself finis.h.i.+ng the book, yearning for more.
Jean Marie Stine.
9/04/2003.
THE TOAD MAN.
[Psychic sleuth: Mason Bell].
Conrad Richter.
It was late in the evening. For days the apartment had been almost unearthly quiet.
”This waiting for something to happen is getting on my nerves!” I declared.
Matson Bell yawned. Even in that mortal act he was still the imperturbable supernatural detective.
”It looks as though bad times had reached the shadow world. But I know better. It's my experience that a dull stretch like this is nearly always followed by some of my most exciting cases,” he said.
I scoffed. Within five minutes the sound of feet came from the stairs. I glanced up and listened. The step sounded nervous, hesitant. A doubtful knock sounded on the door. As I opened it, a prosperously dressed but hollow-eyed man glanced nervously about as if fearful of seeing something over his shoulder. His voice stammered.
”You are Mr. Bell, the supernatural investigator?”
I waved to my employer, who laid down the report of some Scandinavian psychic research society he had been reading in the original.
”Come in. I am Matson Bell, sometimes called the Spook Cop. What can I do for you?” His voice sounded cheery and strong. The caller seized at it as if at a straw. He hurried into the apartment.
”If you could only help me! If you fail me, I'm lost a” completely lost! You're my last hope. Everybody thinks I'm crazy. Maybe I ama””
Matson Bell pushed forward a chair. ”Sit down,” he said kindly. ”Tell me what's bothering you.”
The caller swallowed and took the edge of the offered chair. He looked pitiful sitting there a” his clothing well tailored and pressed a” his face so worn and fearful.
”It's something after me!” he said in terror. ”Whether it's in my imagination or not, I don't know. It looks like some hideous man a” short and squat and with horrible frog eyes. I call it 'the toad man.' n.o.body believes me. I have only one hope that I'm still sane, and that's the ether.”
”The ether?” puzzled Matson Bell.
”When this toad man comes, I notice the strong smell of ether. He fairly reeks of it. Ether nauseates me like most people. Sometimes I pa.s.s out. But usually I'm not so fortunate. It just paralyzes me like the first stage of ether before an operation. You know how you lie there seeing and knowing everything, but unable to move. This horrible toad thing comes close and leers in my face. I struggle, but I can't stir. It's horrible beyond description. n.o.body will ever know what I've gone through!” Heavy beads of sweat stood out on the speaker's forehead.
”I believe you,” said Matson Bell quietly, ”Thank G.o.d!” breathed the caller. He wiped his forehead. ”Everybody else treats me as if I were mad.”
”They've never seen such things,” said Matson Bell gently. ”I have. Go on. Tell me about it.”
The visitor wet his lips.
”This hideous thing has been d.o.g.g.i.ng me for nearly two weeks. I can't sleep. I've lost twenty pounds. I'm a nervous wreck.”
”What does it say to you?”
”It never speaks.”
Matson Bell nodded. His glance to me said, ”Things are starting to happen.” He took out a clean white handkerchief and slowly pleated and repleated it.
”Think for a minute!” Matson Bell said to our overwrought guest. ”What were you doing or about to do the first time this specter came to you?”
The caller settled himself on the chair. ”The first time I didn't see it,” he said. ”I only smelled it, and a strange thing happened. My name is Wilder. I am an attorney. I handle the Horrow estate. No one has been living in the old Horrow house for several years. I was arranging to have the house torn down to make way for an apartment building when I noticed the first trouble.”
”Yes,” encouraged Matson Bell.
”I was signing a contract with the Miller Construction Company. For some time I noticed a peculiar smell. Mr. Miller was in the, office with me. I asked him if he carried ether with him. He said, 'Of course not.'”
”A little later when I began to sign the contract, the pen left my hand,” Mr. Miller said. ”I threw it away, but I swear that some force struck my hand and knocked it aside!” Our visitor shuddered.
”Extraordinarily interesting!” murmured Matson Bell. ”Miller and I had been arguing for some time over the price, and when the pen flew out of my hand, be got up angrily and left. I called him on the telephone afterward and apologized. I told him I would come to his office in a few days. That night the toad man appeared in my room. Since that I've been too distracted to go ahead with the plan.”
Matson Bell had been listening intently. Now he reached to a shelf behind him and took down a heavy book. He paged rapidly, and then read in silence. Presently he said, ”This house you wished to pull down is the old Judson Horrow house, built by Judson Horrow, head of the engraving firm of Horrow and Company? He made a fortune in Wall Street, and built the house shortly afterward?”
”It was before my time,” said Mr. Wilder. ”But that must be the man. I've handled the estate for only a little over eight years. I'm from the Middle West, myself. I know Mr. Horrow has been dead for a long time.”
Matson Bell closed the book with sudden resolve, saying: ”Mr. Wilder, I want you to get us into the Horrow house tonight!”
The caller stared. ”But there's never been the slightest trouble with the Horrow house!” he declared. ”Doctor Horrow a” that's the son a” occupied it himself until several years ago when he rented an apartment next door in the new building put up by the estate.”
Matson Bell rose and picked up his hat, ”You may be right, but I want to see that, house on general principles,” he said.
”It's very latea””
”Great Glory, man!” exclaimed Matson Bell. ”Harper and I have slept so much the past ten days we'd sooner stay up in the Horrow house tonight than sleep in the guest room at the White House!”
”I meant,” protested Wilder, ”it's very late to get in touch with Dr. Horrow!”
”I don't want you to get in touch with Dr. Horrow. You have the keys, haven't you?”
Wilder drew a deep breath. ”I may lose the estate for this,” he said nervously, ”but if you think you can help me, I'll do it!”