Page:Weird Tales Volume 4 Number 2 (1924-05-07).djvu/86

window of the engine. Then a jar—it seemed not heavy—lights—darkness.

THE lawyer raised an agitated face.

"My God, what fiendish—what ghastly—" He stuttered, and fumbled in his pocket, and presently was applying his handkerchief to his damp forehead.

"Remember the date line," said the doctor, sharply.

"Sh?"

"The accident was on the morning of March 9th, 1921; this document is dated April 11, 1922. It is in Philip's hand—"

"Yes, yes, of course, the dates—Philip's writing—I forgot. So circumstantial, so like Graves' egotism, that for a moment I—oh, but this is terrible, Doctor; why, Philip must have been as—"

"Ah—yes?"

The lawyer smothered his words in his handkerchief. Hurriedly, he recommenced the reading.

"'The following item I set down because it is a possible explanation of how the thing took place. But I cannot vouch for its accuracy or truth, for in my own mind it is no more than a hazy half-memory. It may give Doctor Morton a clue. Perhaps it happened just as this half-memory tells me it did; perhaps this memory is merely a hospital-bred fantasy, and it happened in some other fashion. But happen it did. I am a living witness to that fact.

"'I remember, then, that the darkness was not like any darkness I had ever known. It was the darkness of a space that contained nothing, absolutely nothing. Into this void I fell, or, rather, sank. The memory of the sensation is very clear; I sank into this darkness, slowly, softly, down, down, down, an immeasurable distance; no pain, and the only discomfort a slight feeling of suffocation.

"'Abruptly, I passed through the bottom of this abyss, and was in light again. An extraordinary buoyancy was mine. I floated in a little cloud of mist; I, myself, was mist.

"'I found myself looking down upon myself. Just beneath me was my body, the body of Chadwick Graves, lying twisted and broken upon the ground. I was free of it.

"'I saw Philip lying there upon the ground. His body was not broken; it was unmarred. From between his slightly parted lips issued a tenuous spiral of mist; it spread about his body, became an aura, with its root in his mouth.

"'I did not wish to re-enter my own hated body; but when I saw Philip lying there, I wished to enter his body. It had become a fixed habit to wish to be Philip Vallejo. The longing still possessed me. I did more than wish, I willed. With all my strength I willed. A force held me back. I struggled against it. I broke free of it, and I—that is, the mist that was I—floated slowly toward Philip’s body.'

"But, Doctor, this is—"

"—A madman's dream."

"Yet, the particulars of the accident are so—so—"

"Naturally. Philip was there, wasn't he? And Graves did speed, and the machine did swerve into the path of the train. But recall the evidence upon which the coroner's jury based its verdict—the broken steering knuckle?"

"Yes, yes, certainly. And—I know Philip was supposed to have escaped any injury, but—"

"Exactly. He escaped any visible injury, but—"

"Just what occurred in the smash-up, Doctor? I know you reached the scene almost immediately after the tragedy occurred."

"It was altogether a most miraculous—no, no, I don't mean that word, I mean it was a very freakish accident. The automobile was completely demolished. Philip and Mary had been tossed clear of the engine at the instant of impact; she was only slightly bruised, and had not even been rendered unconscious; he lay stunned—it was 36 hours, you recollect, before he came to—but there was not a scratch or bruise upon his body. A marvelous escape. But poor Graves was dead. He had died instantly; a glance told me that. His body was shockingly mutilated."

"Lying twisted and broken upon the ground," murmured the lawyer.

"What's that? Come now, you don't intend to hint—"

"No, I don't. But, about Philip—it is your theory, I take it, that, although he escaped visible injury, his mind—"

"—was permanently unsettled by the terrific shock,” finished the doctor. "It is more than a theory; it is a decision. He was insane, or—the other—"

"Impossible!" stated the lawyer, decisively.

"'I awakened with a full consciousness of my own identity. I was myself, I was Chadwick Graves. I looked up and saw Mary standing by my side, gazing down at me. I was in bed, in a hospital room, I learned afterward, and Doctor Morton and a nurse were also present. But them I did not directly see, for I had eyes only for Mary.

"'She regarded me with an expression so tender, so full of love and entreaty, that my heart all but stopped beating. She, whose eyes at sight of me had always betrayed dislike and fear, was regarding me with eyes of love. She was looking at me as I had seen her look at Philip.

"'I thought she was looking at Philip. I thought she must be looking beyond me, toward some spot where Philip was lying. The memory of the accident rushed upon me, a wild confusion of images. I tried to lift my head, to lift my body; I said, "Where is he?"

"'A cry came from Mary's lips, a cry of joy. I was pressed back, her arms were about me, her soft lips touched mine.

"'The shock of that contact, the ecstasy that thrilled me, my incredulous astonishment—oh, you cannot guess what I felt! My mind was a-whirl; giant fingers squeezed my heart until the pain—or the joy—was almost unbearable. For Mary Varnady kissed me upon the mouth!

"'She was withdrawn, and Doctor Morton bent over me. "You are quite all right, my boy," said he. "Not a scratch. But—no excitement, you must be quiet. Sleep now. Close your eyes."

"'I closed my eyes. I was glad to, for I was fighting for my self-control. I was repressing an impulse to leap from the bed and dance, to scream, to in some physical way express the turmoil within me.

"'A door closed, and, somewhat composed, I opened my eyes to find myself alone in the room. I sniffed the air, the odorous hospital air upon which lingered, I fancied, a faint breath of Mary. I licked my lips; I fancied I could taste her. Then, moving in the bed, I thought of myself, and felt of myself. Apparently I was uninjured—not a bandage, not a pain. But my mind was chaos. A voice in my brain was chanting, "Mary, Mary, Mary! Why, Why, Why!"

"'It was some time before I noticed the hand lying upon the bed-spread. It was not my hand. My hand was short and square and red, and back of it was covered with a red fuzz that matched the hair on my head. This hand I observed was small and narrow and gracefully proportioned, the fingers were long and tapering, and there was not a hair upon the white skin. There was a topaz ring upon the third finger that I instantly recognized. Indeed, I instantly recognized the haild itself. I recognized