Chapter 15

Resurgam

When Dentham asserted that the body of Adrian Lancaster had been removed to Beryle Square, he told a lie, as the police refused to allow any such thing. A doctor had been called in, who pronounced life to be extinct, and the body was now lying on a couch in the sitting-room, where it was to remain until the inquest. Olive had refused to leave the house since the discovery, and in despair, Teddy, afraid to leave her by herself, had telegraphed to her father to come to Hampstead. Sir John immediately obeying the summons, had come up by the night train, and the three of them were now in the room, talking over the affair. Dentham had disappeared. The police were in possession of the house, and now Sir John was trying to persuade his daughter to come into town to the Metropole Hotel, and take the rest she so sadly needed.

In spite of the verdict of the doctor, Teddy Rudall firmly refused to believe that Adrian was dead, and declared with the greatest confidence that he was only in a trance. It was this statement that made Olive refuse to leave the house, as she half thought that Teddy might be right in his belief, and Adrian would come back to life again, so she was unwilling to be absent in case he should revive while she was away. The sergeant of the police, who was present, now insisted respectfully that they should all leave the house, as it was nearly nine o'clock, and he was unable to retire until they did. Under this pressure, Olive had consented to accompany her father and Teddy into town.

"I'll come back in the morning," she said turning to the sergeant, "and if he shows any signs of reviving, mind you send a messenger at once to the Metropole.

"Yes miss—certainly!"

"What nonsense, Olive!" said her father testily, for the unpleasantness of the situation was beginning to tell even on his genial temper. "I'm afraid there's no chance of poor Adrian's revival, he is dead—quite dead."

"There I disagree with you," interposed Teddy quietly, "he is in a trance."

"But the doctor?"

"I don't care what the doctor says—he isn't the Pope, to be infallible—if Adrian were dead, his body would have decayed long ago."

"I'm sure, papa, if you believe in theosophy you can see that Dr. Roversmire has hypnotised poor Adrian," said Olive firmly, "I daresay if Dr. Roversmire were here, he could bring him to life again."

"Oh, he'll come back here, miss," observed the sergeant confidently, "then he'll be arrested at once and to save his own skin, he'll do what he can."

"I'm not so sure that Roversmire will return here," said Sir John thoughtfully, "because he received a telegram to-day and went up to town by the afternoon train, in a very agitated state."

"Who could the telegram have been from?" cried Olive.

"I daresay Dentham sent it," suggested Teddy "for I don't believe in that fellow at all—he's away now."

"When he comes back sir, we'll not lose sight of him again," said the policeman, "but now we really must go."

Olive assented in silence, and moved towards the door, followed by the others. On the threshold however, she turned to take a last look at Adrian, and truly it was a strange scene which met her eye. On the table burned an oil lamp with a bright yellow flame, which only illuminated half the room, the rest being in a kind of semidarkness, and on the verge of this radiance was the couch, covered with a tiger skin, upon which lay the body of Adrian Lancaster, still arrayed in the ulster he had worn, with the quiet hands crossed on the placid breast, the eyes closed, the lips smileless, and a look of terrible calm on the white face.

Olive had placed a great bunch of tuber-roses in his hands, and the sickly odour permeated the whole apartment, while, as the group stood silently at the door, dead stillness seemed to reign around.

Suddenly from the black marble clock over the mantelpiece there sounded the hour of nine, in deep hollow tones, like the knell of a funeral bell. One! two! three! four! five! six! seven! eight! nine!—they rang heavily through the silence of the night, while the listeners, overcome by the strangeness of the scene, stood immovable, counting each sonorous stroke with mute lips. As the last died away in silence, there was an awful pause, as if the absence of sound made the quiet more ghastly, and then—

The figure on the couch stirred and sighed—the hands raised themselves off the breast, and the flowers fell with a muffled sound on the floor. The onlookers gazed at this awesome resurrection in paralyzed silence, and it was only when Adrian opened his eyes, and languidly tried to rise, that the spell broke, and Olive fell on the floor, while the three men rushed forward in a state of uncontrollable agitation.

"He lives! he lives!" cried Sir John, placing his arm under Adrian's head, and cautiously lifting him to an erect sitting position.

"I knew it was a trance," said Teddy triumphantly, "poor old chap, he seems quite worn out," and with great presence of mind, he poured out a glass of wine, and held it to Adrian's lips.

While he was drinking it, the sergeant stood scratching his head in amazement.

"I never saw such a queer thing in my life," he said, staring at Adrian with a look of awe on his face, "it's like the raisin' of Lazarus."

Adrian, revived somewhat with the wine, spoke in a faint voice. "Olive," he whispered, "Olive." The woman on the floor heard the beloved voice, and, raising herself to her knees, dragged herself across the floor to the side of the couch and, with one cry of joy, clasped Adrian to her breast.

EXTRACT FROM "THE MORNING PLANET."

"A curious case of suspended animation is reported to have taken place in London within the last few weeks. Most of our readers will remember the extraordinary disappearance of Mr. Adrian Lancaster, who, having quarrelled with a friend, left his chambers in Piccadilly and was not heard of for some time. He was ultimately discovered in the house of a Dr. Michael Roversmire, who appears to have made him the subject of some mesmeric experiment, for the unfortunate gentleman had evidently been cast into a trance, and was to all appearances dead. And now comes the curious part of the story. Dr. Roversmire, no doubt dreading the questions that might be asked him, disappeared on the discovery of Mr. Lancaster's inanimate form, and was found dead in a low public-house situate in the Seven Dials. It appears his valet, Dentham (who had given most valuable information to the police concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Lancaster), was with him at the time of his death, which took place, so he asserted to the landlord of the hotel, at nine o'clock. It is worthy of remark that, as the man who exercised the mesmeric power died at The Seven Dials, Mr. Lancaster, the person over whom such power had been exercised, revived, and has been in perfect possession of his faculties ever since. So we beg all professors of Mesmerism, Hypnotism or Occult Science to note that this power over their victims evidently ceases upon their death. Mr. Lancaster, who has been in a trance state for at least three weeks, steadily refuses to give any information of his experiences during that period, but we suspect the reason of such refusal is simply that he has nothing to tell, as his faculties were no doubt absolutely powerless to exercise themselves while under the evil influence of the hypnotic power of Dr. Roversmire.

"Dentham, the valet of the deceased, has disappeared, and is supposed by the police to have gone to America. Dr. Roversmire, whose death is ascribed to suicide (proved by the small portion of deadly poison found in the phial clenched in his hand and the appearance of the stomach after a post mortem examination), was a wealthy man, and, as no relatives or friends of the deceased can be found, nor to all appearances is there any will in existence, the whole property of the deceased will go to the Crown.

"We hear Mr. Lancaster is about to marry Miss Olive Maunders, the daughter of Sir John Maunders of No. 40, Beryle Square and The Nook, Marlow; and we heartily congratulate him on his narrow escape from the hands of such an unscrupulous charlatan as Roversmire seems to have been."

So far the oracle of the Press, but no one ever knew the real truth except Olive, to whom Adrian told the whole story, and, in spite of her scepticism, she was forced to believe, if not the whole, at least a portion of the strange recital. With Philip Trevanna, who was indirectly the cause of all his strange experiences, Adrian became good friends, so much so, that Mr. Trevanna acted as his best man, and, in conjunction with Teddy Rudall, saw the bridal pair off to Dover, from whence they departed to the Continent for their honeymoon.

THE END.