Dracula's Guest & Other Weird Tales — The Burial of the Rats, part 2

As nonchalantly as I could I turned slightly on my stool so as to get my right leg well under me.

Then with a sudden jump, turning my head, and guarding it with my hands, and with the fighting instinct of the knights of old, I breathed my lady’s name, and hurled myself against the back wall of the hut.

Watchful as they were, the suddenness of my movement surprised both Pierre and the old woman.

As I crashed through the rotten timbers I saw the old woman rise with a leap like a tiger and heard her low gasp of baffled rage.

My feet lit on something that moved, and as I jumped away I knew that I had stepped on the back of one of the row of men lying on their faces outside the hut.

I was torn with nails and splinters, but otherwise unhurt.

Breathless I rushed up the mound in front of me, hearing as I went the dull crash of the shanty as it collapsed into a mass.

It was a nightmare climb.

The mound, though but low, was awfully steep, and with each step I took the mass of dust and cinders tore down with me and gave way under my feet.

The dust rose and choked me; it was sickening, fœtid, awful; but my climb was, I felt, for life or death, and I struggled on.

The seconds seemed hours; but the few moments I had in starting, combined with my youth and strength, gave me a great advantage, and, though several forms struggled after me in deadly silence which was more dreadful than any sound, I easily reached the top.

Since then I have climbed the cone of Vesuvius, and as I struggled up that dreary steep amid the sulphurous fumes the memory of that awful night at Montrouge came back to me so vividly that I almost grew faint.

The mound was one of the tallest in the region of dust, and as I struggled to the top, panting for breath and with my heart beating like a sledge-hammer, I saw away to my left the dull red gleam of the sky, and nearer still the flashing of lights.

Thank God!

I knew where I was now and where lay the road to Paris!

For two or three seconds I paused and looked back.

My pursuers were still well behind me, but struggling up resolutely, and in deadly silence.

Beyond, the shanty was a wreck—a mass of timber and moving forms.

I could see it well, for flames were already bursting out; the rags and straw had evidently caught fire from the lantern.

Still silence there!

Not a sound!

These old wretches could die game, anyhow.

I had no time for more than a passing glance, for as I cast an eye round the mound preparatory to making my descent I saw several dark forms rushing round on either side to cut me off on my way.

It was now a race for life.

They were trying to head me on my way to Paris, and with the instinct of the moment I dashed down to the right-hand side.

I

was just in time, for, though I came as it seemed to me down the steep in a few steps, the wary old men who were watching me turned back, and one, as I rushed by into the opening between the two mounds in front, almost struck me a blow with that terrible butcher’s axe.

There could surely not be two such weapons about!

Then began a really horrible chase.

I easily ran ahead of the old men, and even when some younger ones and a few women joined in the hunt I easily distanced them.

But I did not know the way, and I could not even guide myself by the light in the sky, for I was running away from it.

I

had heard that, unless of conscious purpose, hunted men turn always to the left, and so I found it now; and so, I suppose, knew also my pursuers, who were more animals than men, and with cunning or instinct had found out such secrets for themselves: for on finishing a quick spurt, after which I intended to take a moment’s breathing space, I suddenly saw ahead of me two or three forms swiftly passing behind a mound to the right.

I was in the spider’s web now indeed!

But with the thought of this new danger came the resource of the hunted, and so I darted down the next turning to the right.

I continued in this direction for some hundred yards, and then, making a turn to the left again, felt certain that I had, at any rate, avoided the danger of being surrounded.

But not of pursuit, for on came the rabble after me, steady, dogged, relentless, and still in grim silence.

In the greater darkness the mounds seemed now to be somewhat smaller than before, although—for the night was closing—they looked bigger in proportion.

I was now well ahead of my pursuers, so I made a dart up the mound in front.

Oh joy of joys!

I was close to the edge of this inferno of dustheaps.

Away behind me the red light of Paris was in the sky, and towering up behind rose the heights of Montmarte—a dim light, with here and there brilliant points like stars.

Restored to vigour in a moment, I ran over the few remaining mounds of decreasing size, and found myself on the level land beyond.

Even then, however, the prospect was not inviting.

All before me was dark and dismal, and I had evidently come on one of those dank, low-lying waste places which are found here and there in the neighbourhood of great cities.

Places of waste and desolation, where the space is required for the ultimate agglomeration of all that is noxious, and the ground is so poor as to create no desire of occupancy even in the lowest squatter.

With eyes accustomed to the gloom of the evening, and away now from the shadows of those dreadful dustheaps, I could see much more easily than I could a little while ago.

It might have been, of course, that the glare in the sky of the lights of Paris, though the city was some miles away, was reflected here.

Howsoever it was, I saw well enough to take bearings for certainly some little distance around me.

In front was a bleak, flat waste that seemed almost dead level, with here and there the dark shimmering of stagnant pools.

Seemingly far off on the right, amid a small cluster of scattered lights, rose a dark mass of Fort Montrouge, and away to the left in the dim distance, pointed with stray gleams from cottage windows, the lights in the sky showed the locality of Bicêtre.

A moment’s thought decided me to take to the right and try to reach Montrouge.

There at least would be some sort of safety, and I might possibly long before come on some of the cross roads which I knew.

Somewhere, not far off, must lie the strategic road made to connect the outlying chain of forts circling the city.

Then I looked back.

Coming over the mounds, and outlined black against the glare of the Parisian horizon, I saw several moving figures, and still a way to the right several more deploying out between me and my destination.

They evidently meant to cut me off in this direction, and so my choice became constricted; it lay now between going straight ahead or turning to the left.

Stooping to the ground, so as to get the advantage of the horizon as a line of sight, I looked carefully in this direction, but could detect no sign of my enemies.

I argued that as they had not guarded or were not trying to guard that point, there was evidently danger to me there already.

So I made up my mind to go straight on before me.

It was not an inviting prospect, and as I went on the reality grew worse.

The ground became soft and oozy, and now and again gave way beneath me in a sickening kind of way.

I seemed somehow to be going down, for I saw round me places seemingly more elevated than where I was, and this in a place which from a little way back seemed dead level.

I looked around, but could see none of my pursuers.

This was strange, for all along these birds of the night had followed me through the darkness as well as though it was broad daylight.

How I blamed myself for coming out in my light-coloured tourist suit of tweed.

The silence, and my not being able to see my enemies, whilst I felt that they were watching me, grew appalling, and in the hope of some one not of this ghastly crew hearing me I raised my voice and shouted several times.

There was not the slightest response; not even an echo rewarded my efforts.

For a while I stood stock still and kept my eyes in one direction.

On one of the rising places around me I saw something dark move along, then another, and another.

This was to my left, and seemingly moving to head me off.

I thought that again I might with my skill as a runner elude my enemies at this game, and so with all my speed darted forward.

Splash!

My feet had given way in a mass of slimy rubbish, and I had fallen headlong into a reeking, stagnant pool.

The water and the mud in which my arms sank up to the elbows was filthy and nauseous beyond description, and in the suddenness of my fall I had actually swallowed some of the filthy stuff, which nearly choked me, and made me gasp for breath.

Never shall I forget the moments during which I stood trying to recover myself almost fainting from the fœtid odour of the filthy pool, whose white mist rose ghostlike around.

Worst of all, with the acute despair of the hunted animal when he sees the pursuing pack closing on him, I saw before my eyes whilst I stood helpless the dark forms of my pursuers moving swiftly to surround me.

It is curious how our minds work on odd matters even when the energies of thought are seemingly concentrated on some terrible and pressing need.

I was in momentary peril of my life: my safety depended on my action, and my choice of alternatives coming now with almost every step I took, and yet I could not but think of the strange dogged persistency of these old men.

Their silent resolution, their steadfast, grim, persistency even in such a cause commanded, as well as fear, even a measure of respect.

What must they have been in the vigour of their youth.

I could understand now that whirlwind rush on the bridge of Arcola, that scornful exclamation of the Old Guard at Waterloo!

Unconscious cerebration has its own pleasures, even at such moments;

but fortunately it does not in any way clash with the thought from which action springs.

I realised at a glance that so far I was defeated in my object, my enemies as yet had won.

They had succeeded in surrounding me on three sides, and were bent on driving me off to the left-hand, where there was already some danger for me, for they had left no guard.

I accepted the alternative—it was a case of Hobson’s choice and run.

I had to keep the lower ground, for my pursuers were on the higher places.

However, though the ooze and broken ground impeded me my youth and training made me able to hold my ground, and by keeping a diagonal line I not only kept them from gaining on me but even began to distance them.

This gave me new heart and strength, and by this time habitual training was beginning to tell and my second wind had come.

Before me the ground rose slightly.

I rushed up the slope and found before me a waste of watery slime, with a low dyke or bank looking black and grim beyond.

I

felt that if I could but reach that dyke in safety I could there, with solid ground under my feet and some kind of path to guide me, find with comparative ease a way out of my troubles.

After a glance right and left and seeing no one near, I kept my eyes for a few minutes to their rightful work of aiding my feet whilst I crossed the swamp.

It was rough, hard work, but there was little danger, merely toil; and a short time took me to the dyke.

I rushed up the slope exulting; but here again I met a new shock.

On either side of me rose a number of crouching figures.

From right and left they rushed at me.

Each body held a rope.

The cordon was nearly complete.

I could pass on neither side, and the end was near.

There was only one chance, and I took it.

I hurled myself across the dyke, and escaping out of the very clutches of my foes threw myself into the stream.

At any other time I should have thought that water foul and filthy, but now it was as welcome as the most crystal stream to the parched traveller.

It was a highway of safety!

My pursuers rushed after me.

Had only one of them held the rope it would have been all up with me, for he could have entangled me before I had time to swim a stroke; but the many hands holding it embarrassed and delayed them, and when the rope struck the water I heard the splash well behind me.

A few minutes’ hard swimming took me across the stream.

Refreshed with the immersion and encouraged by the escape, I climbed the dyke in comparative gaiety of spirits.

From the top I looked back.

Through the darkness I saw my assailants scattering up and down along the dyke.

The pursuit was evidently not ended, and again I had to choose my course.

Beyond the dyke where I stood was a wild, swampy space very similar to that which I had crossed.

I determined to shun such a place, and thought for a moment whether I would take up or down the dyke.

I thought I heard a sound—the muffled sound of oars, so I listened, and then shouted.

No response; but the sound ceased.

My enemies had evidently got a boat of some kind.

As they were on the up side of me I took the down path and began to run.

As I passed to the left of where I had entered the water I heard several splashes, soft and stealthy, like the sound a rat makes as he plunges into the stream, but vastly greater; and as I looked I saw the dark sheen of the water broken by the ripples of several advancing heads.

Some of my enemies were swimming the stream also.

And now behind me, up the stream, the silence was broken by the quick rattle and creak of oars; my enemies were in hot pursuit.

I put my best leg foremost and ran on.

After a break of a couple of minutes I looked back, and by a gleam of light through the ragged clouds I saw several dark forms climbing the bank behind me.

The wind had now begun to rise, and the water beside me was ruffled and beginning to break in tiny waves on the bank.

I had to keep my eyes pretty well on the ground before me, lest I should stumble, for I knew that to stumble was death.

After a few minutes I looked back behind me.

On the dyke were only a few dark figures, but crossing the waste, swampy ground were many more.

What new danger this portended I did not know—could only guess.

Then as I ran it seemed to me that my track kept ever sloping away to the right.

I looked up ahead and saw that the river was much wider than before, and that the dyke on which I stood fell quite away, and beyond it was another stream on whose near bank I saw some of the dark forms now across the marsh.

I was on an island of some kind.

My situation was now indeed terrible, for my enemies had hemmed me in on every side.

Behind came the quickening roll of the oars, as though my pursuers knew that the end was close.

Around me on every side was desolation; there was not a roof or light, as far as I could see.

Far off to the right rose some dark mass, but what it was I knew not.

For a moment I paused to think what I should do, not for more, for my pursuers were drawing closer.

Then my mind was made up.

I slipped down the bank and took to the water.

I struck out straight ahead so as to gain the current by clearing the backwater of the island, for such I presume it was, when I had passed into the stream.

I waited till a cloud came driving across the moon and leaving all in darkness.

Then I took off my hat and laid it softly on the water floating with the stream, and a second after dived to the right and struck out under water with all my might.

I was, I suppose, half a minute under water, and when I rose came up as softly as I could, and turning, looked back.

There went my light brown hat floating merrily away.

Close behind it came a rickety old boat, driven furiously by a pair of oars.

The moon was still partly obscured by the drifting clouds, but in the partial light I could see a man in the bows holding aloft ready to strike what appeared to me to be that same dreadful pole-axe which I had before escaped.

As I looked the boat drew closer, closer, and the man struck savagely.

The hat disappeared.

The man fell forward, almost out of the boat.

His comrades dragged him in but without the axe, and then as I turned with all my energies bent on reaching the further bank, I heard the fierce whirr of the muttered “Sacre!

” which marked the anger of my baffled pursuers.

That was the first sound I had heard from human lips during all this dreadful chase, and full as it was of menace and danger to me it was a welcome sound for it broke that awful silence which shrouded and appalled me.

It was as though an overt sign that my opponents were men and not ghosts, and that with them I had, at least, the chance of a man, though but one against many.

But now that the spell of silence was broken the sounds came thick and fast.

From boat to shore and back from shore to boat came quick question and answer, all in the fiercest whispers.

I looked back—a fatal thing to do—for in the instant someone caught sight of my face, which showed white on the dark water, and shouted.

Hands pointed to me, and in a moment or two the boat was under weigh, and following hard after me.

I had but a little way to go, but quicker and quicker came the boat after me.

A few more strokes and I would be on the shore, but I felt the oncoming of the boat, and expected each second to feel the crash of an oar or other weapon on my head.

Had I not seen that dreadful axe disappear in the water I do not think that I could have won the shore.

I heard the muttered curses of those not rowing and the laboured breath of the rowers.

With one supreme effort for life or liberty I touched the bank and sprang up it.

There was not a single second to spare, for hard behind me the boat grounded and several dark forms sprang after me.

I gained the top of the dyke, and keeping to the left ran on again.

The boat put off and followed down the stream.

Seeing this I feared danger in this direction, and quickly turning, ran down the dyke on the other side, and after passing a short stretch of marshy ground gained a wild, open flat country and sped on.

Still behind me came on my relentless pursuers.

Far away, below me, I saw the same dark mass as before, but now grown closer and greater.

My heart gave a great thrill of delight, for I knew that it must be the fortress of Bicêtre, and with new courage I ran on.

I had heard that between each and all of the protecting forts of Paris there are strategic ways, deep sunk roads where soldiers marching should be sheltered from an enemy.

I knew that if I could gain this road I would be safe, but in the darkness I could not see any sign of it, so, in blind hope of striking it, I ran on.

Presently I came to the edge of a deep cut, and found that down below me ran a road guarded on each side by a ditch of water fenced on either side by a straight, high wall.

Getting fainter and dizzier, I ran on; the ground got more broken—more and more still, till I staggered and fell, and rose again, and ran on in the blind anguish of the hunted.

Again the thought of Alice nerved me.

I would not be lost and wreck her life: I would fight and struggle for life to the bitter end.

With a great effort I caught the top of the wall.

As, scrambling like a catamount, I drew myself up, I actually felt a hand touch the sole of my foot.

I was now on a sort of causeway, and before me I saw a dim light.

Blind and dizzy, I ran on, staggered, and fell, rising, covered with dust and blood.

“Halt la!

” The words sounded like a voice from heaven.

A blaze of light seemed to enwrap me, and I shouted with joy.

“Qui va la?

” The rattle of musketry, the flash of steel before my eyes.

Instinctively I stopped, though close behind me came a rush of my pursuers.

Another word or two, and out from a gateway poured, as it seemed to me, a tide of red and blue, as the guard turned out.

All around seemed blazing with light, and the flash of steel, the clink and rattle of arms, and the loud, harsh voices of command.

As I fell forward, utterly exhausted, a soldier caught me.

I looked back in dreadful expectation, and saw the mass of dark forms disappearing into the night.

Then I must have fainted.

When I recovered my senses I was in the guard room.

They gave me brandy, and after a while I was able to tell them something of what had passed.

Then a commissary of police appeared, apparently out of the empty air, as is the way of the Parisian police officer.

He listened attentively, and then had a moment’s consultation with the officer in command.

Apparently they were agreed, for they asked me if I were ready now to come with them.

“Where to?

” I asked, rising to go.

“Back to the dust heaps.

We shall, perhaps, catch them yet!

” “I shall try!

” said I. He eyed me for a moment keenly, and said suddenly: “Would you like to wait a while or till tomorrow, young Englishman?

” This touched me to the quick, as, perhaps, he intended, and I jumped to my feet.

“Come now!

” I said; “now!

now!

An Englishman is always ready for his duty!

” The commissary was a good fellow, as well as a shrewd one; he slapped my shoulder kindly.

“Brave garçon!

” he said.

“Forgive me, but I knew what would do you most good.

The guard is ready.

Come!

” And so, passing right through the guard room, and through a long vaulted passage, we were out into the night.

A few of the men in front had powerful lanterns.

Through courtyards and down a sloping way we passed out through a low archway to a sunken road, the same that I had seen in my flight.

The order was given to get at the double, and with a quick, springing stride, half run, half walk, the soldiers went swiftly along.

I felt my strength renewed again—such is the difference between hunter and hunted.

A very short distance took us to a low-lying pontoon bridge across the stream, and evidently very little higher up than I had struck it.

Some effort had evidently been made to damage it, for the ropes had all been cut, and one of the chains had been broken.

I

heard the officer say to the commissary: “We are just in time!

A few more minutes, and they would have destroyed the bridge.

Forward, quicker still!

” and on we went.

Again we reached a pontoon on the winding stream; as we came up we heard the hollow boom of the metal drums as the efforts to destroy the bridge was again renewed.

A word of command was given, and several men raised their rifles.

“Fire!

” A volley rang out.

There was a muffled cry, and the dark forms dispersed.

But the evil was done, and we saw the far end of the pontoon swing into the stream.

This was a serious delay, and it was nearly an hour before we had renewed ropes and restored the bridge sufficiently to allow us to cross.

We renewed the chase.

Quicker, quicker we went towards the dust heaps.

After a time we came to a place that I knew.

There were the remains of a fire—a few smouldering wood ashes still cast a red glow, but the bulk of the ashes were cold.

I knew the site of the hut and the hill behind it up which I had rushed, and in the flickering glow the eyes of the rats still shone with a sort of phosphorescence.

The commissary spoke a word to the officer, and he cried: “Halt!

” The soldiers were ordered to spread around and watch, and then we commenced to examine the ruins.

The commissary himself began to lift away the charred boards and rubbish.

These the soldiers took and piled together.

Presently he started back, then bent down and rising beckoned me.

“See!

” he said.

It was a gruesome sight.

There lay a skeleton face downwards, a woman by the lines—an old woman by the coarse fibre of the bone.

Between the ribs rose a long spike-like dagger made from a butcher’s sharpening knife, its keen point buried in the spine.

“You will observe,” said the commissary to the officer and to me as he took out his note book, “that the woman must have fallen on her dagger.

The rats are many here—see their eyes glistening among that heap of bones—and you will also notice”—I shuddered as he placed his hand on the skeleton—“that but little time was lost by them, for the bones are scarcely cold!

” There was no other sign of any one near, living or dead; and so deploying again into line the soldiers passed on.

Presently we came to the hut made of the old wardrobe.

We approached.

In five of the six compartments was an old man sleeping—sleeping so soundly that even the glare of the lanterns did not wake them.

Old and grim and grizzled they looked, with their gaunt, wrinkled, bronzed faces and their white moustaches.

The officer called out harshly and loudly a word of command, and in an instant each one of them was on his feet before us and standing at “attention!

” “What do you here?

” “We sleep,” was the answer.

“Where are the other chiffoniers?

” asked the commissary.

“Gone to work.

” “And you?

” “We are on guard!

” “Peste!

” laughed the officer grimly, as he looked at the old men one after the other in the face and added with cool deliberate cruelty: “Asleep on duty!

Is this the manner of the Old Guard?

No wonder, then, a Waterloo!

” By the gleam of the lantern I saw the grim old faces grow deadly pale, and almost shuddered at the look in the eyes of the old men as the laugh of the soldiers echoed the grim pleasantry of the officer.

I felt in that moment that I was in some measure avenged.

For a moment they looked as if they would throw themselves on the taunter, but years of their life had schooled them and they remained still.

“You are but five,” said the commissary; “where is the sixth?

” The answer came with a grim chuckle.

“He is there!

” and the speaker pointed to the bottom of the wardrobe.

“He died last night.

You won’t find much of him.

The burial of the rats is quick!

” The commissary stooped and looked in.

Then he turned to the officer and said calmly: “We may as well go back.

No trace here now; nothing to prove that man was the one wounded by your soldiers’ bullets!

Probably they murdered him to cover up the trace.

See!

” again he stooped and placed his hands on the skeleton.

“The rats work quickly and they are many.

These bones are warm!

” I shuddered, and so did many more of those around me.

“Form!

” said the officer, and so in marching order, with the lanterns swinging in front and the manacled veterans in the midst, with steady tramp we took ourselves out of the dustheaps and turned backward to the fortress of Bicêtre.

My year of probation has long since ended, and Alice is my wife.

But when I look back upon that trying twelvemonth one of the most vivid incidents that memory recalls is that associated with my visit to the City of Dust.