Читать книгу The Table - Edgar Wallace - Страница 6

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AS the car came to a standstill at the gate Allerman sounded the horn three times in quick succession. There was a pause of about five seconds, and then the gate slowly swung open. Lorna, watching, gave a sneering smile.

"What's this—a conjuring trick?"

"Merely efficient service," replied the doctor. "I dislike inefficiency. An inefficient person or an inefficient thing has no right to existence, and a gate that requires me to get out of my car and open it is an inefficient gate."

He drove the car into the drive, and Lorna, glancing back through the rear window, saw the gate swing to behind them. It was a long, winding drive, flanked by thick bushes and trees whose branches, meeting overhead, shut out the sunlight and created the impression that one was approaching the house through a gloomy tunnel. As the car bumped its way along the uneven track the girl's gaze shifted uneasily from one side to the other. When it rounded the last bend and the house came in sight Allerman, watching her out of the corner of his eye, saw that she was gazing at it with a look of sullen defiance in her eyes, and that her teeth were nervously gnawing her lower lip.

"Is this where you live?"

He nodded.

"Cheerful-looking place, I must say. Reminds me of a prison."

"Hence, no doubt, your instinctive antipathy."

"Looks as if it might be haunted."

"It is."

The doctor brought the car to a standstill at the portico, got out, walked round to the door on Lorna's side and flung it open.

"Come out."

The girl shrank back in her seat, staring at him with eyes like those of a cornered animal, her lips slightly drawn back and showing her teeth, her hands clenched.

"No! I'm not coming out."

"Come out—at once."

She shook her head. She was breathing quickly, and her breath made a slight hissing sound between her teeth. She crouched back still further in her seat, thrusting her chin forward and hunching her shoulders, almost as if she were a cat gathering herself for a spring. Allerman stood watching her, his face betraying no hint of annoyance: he had rather the air of a man who was absorbed in studying an interesting specimen.

"For God's sake stop staring at me!" exclaimed Lorna nervously. "I can't bear it—see? I can't bear those beastly eyes of yours." Suddenly she lost control of herself. "I'm not coming out!" she shouted in a high-pitched, hysterical voice. "I keep telling you I'm not coming out and all you do is to stand there and stare and stare. Why the hell don't you say something? But I'm not coming out of this car. I'm not going into that house. I'm scared. There you are—that's flat. I'm scared of the house. And I'm scared of you—of what you're going to do to me. You've got some low-down idea in the back of your mind, but you're not going to get a chance to use it. You can do what you like, but you won't get me into that house. Call the police if you like—I don't care. You can't force me into the house if I don't want to go—"

Allerman took a step forward and, bending down, gripped her arm.

"You're coming out of the car and you're coming into the house," he said, and pulled her roughly towards the door.

She fought back furiously, striking at his face with her clenched fist and making frantic efforts to free herself. But his fingers were biting into her flesh, and there was no resisting the strength of his arm as it drew her relentlessly from the seat.

Suddenly she relaxed.

"For God's sake," she gasped, "let go. I can't stand it. You're breaking my arm!"

The pain in her arm became a little less acute, but Allerman's hand was still gripping her, forcing her towards the door of the car. She could make no further resistance; she could not face a renewal of that terrible, searing pain in her arm, and she got out of the car.

Allerman led her up the steps into the portico, through the front door, which he opened with a latchkey, across the hall and into a room at the far end of it. Only when he had shut the door behind him did he release her arm, and then he pushed her from him with a rough gesture of distaste, as though he were relieved at not having to touch her any longer. He seated himself at the massive writing-desk that stood at the far end of the room.

Lorna glanced swiftly round. The apartment was a very large one, half library and half laboratory. One wall was a mass of books, almost up to the ceiling Against another was a long table with Bunsen burners, racks filled with test tubes and the general paraphernalia of a laboratory. There was a big, old-fashioned fireplace, above which were several hunting trophies, a couple of shot-guns and a whip. The comfortable arm-chairs, the big divan and the magnificent skin rugs that lay on the polished parquet floor were certainly more in keeping with a library than with a laboratory, but the steel and glass cabinet filled with surgical instruments, the mounted skeleton that stood in the corner, and the two microscopes, each under its glass bell, that were on the writing-desk, were an indication that Dr. Allerman used the room for other purposes than relaxation.

Seated at his desk, Allerman kept his keen eyes fixed on Lorna as she stood in the middle of the room, glancing nervously around her. He noticed that as her gaze reached the case of surgical instruments it rested there for a few seconds, and he did not fail to note the flickering of her eyelids and the sudden crisping of her fingers. From the case of instruments her gaze went to the skeleton and paused again. Then, after a quick, furtive glance at the man, her eyes went to the door and she took a step towards it.

Allerman smiled.

"That would be inadvisable," he said quietly. "I'll show you why."

He pressed a button on his desk. Almost instantly the door was opened and Stark strode in, clicked his heels and stood at attention. Lorna, as she saw him, started backwards with a little gasp of horrified surprise.

"This lady is not to leave the house, Stark."

The servant turned his head, subjecting Lorna to a prolonged stare. Then he faced Allerman again.

"The lady is not to leave the house," he repeated mechanically. "Yes, master."

The doctor made a sign with his hand. Stark performed his about-turn and went from the room.

"Stark is the perfect servant," remarked Allerman. "He is as near to a machine as any human being can be."

"Human? My God! You don't call that brute human, do you?"

"And he has enormous strength—particularly in his arms. I have seen him twist a steel bar an inch in diameter as though it were a bit of wire. He is an excellent watch-dog. I have a theory about Stark—that he may possibly be a reincarnation of Cerberus. But I don't suppose you've ever heard of Cerberus."

"If he's anything like that foul-faced gorilla, I don't want to."

She crossed to the case of instruments and stood peering at them through the glass.

"So you really are a doctor, are you?"

He nodded.

"A surgeon. More precisely the surgeon—the only surgeon who really matters."

"Got a good opinion of yourself, haven't you?"

"I am merely stating a fact. Even my colleagues in the medical profession are reluctantly compelled to admit that I have attained heights which they can never hope to reach. It's largely a question of courage, and that is where I am fortunate. When I have a knife in my hand and a body on the table I don't know what fear is. I have succeeded in doing things to human bodies.... Come here and let me look at you."

Lorna drew in her breath sharply and took a step backwards.

"No!" she exclaimed. "You're not going to do anything to my body! You're not going to get me on your table and use your knife on me. I'm all right as I am, see? There's nothing wrong with me, and if you try playing any monkey tricks—"

Allerman rose from his chair and walked slowly across to where she was standing.

"I shall do to you exactly what I choose," he said, gazing into her eyes. "You are my property and I shall make use of you as I think fit. If I wish to change you, I shall change you. I have an idea that I might be able to make you into something much better than you are."

"You're not going to touch me! My body's my own—it's not yours. And it never will be. Just you try any of your funny business on me and you'll see what will happen. My gang'll get you—they'll get you good and proper."

Allerman's lip curled contemptuously.

"Your gang! A gang of degenerates—like your friend Dinkie—too lazy to work, too unintelligent to earn an honest living—useless junk that should be thrown on the world's scrap-heap. Give them a gun against an unarmed man and they're in their element. And you, you poor little fool, fancy you can frighten me with threats that your pitiful gang of decadents will 'get me good and proper'! Don't you realise that there's more intelligence in my little finger than in the so-called brains of all your mob put together?"

"All the same, you're not going to start messing about with me. If you want to look at me—all right, look. But just be careful to keep your hands to yourself or—"

As Allerman's hand went forward to grasp her arm she stepped quickly aside, wrenched open the glass door of the instrument case and grabbed a knife from the shelf. The next instant, as he took a quick step towards her, she sprang at him, slashing at his throat. The doctor's hand shot out and, gripping her throat, he flung her from him. As he did so he staggered backwards, grasping at the back of a chair to steady himself. Before he could regain his balance she sprang at him again. Swinging back her hand, which still grasped the surgical knife, she sent it sweeping forward towards his throat, but before the point touched him her wrist was seized, jerked violently backwards, twisted.... With a gasp of pain she released the knife, which fell with a metallic clink on the polished floor.

She wrenched her arm free and spun round—to find herself face to face with Paul Barlow.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Paul glanced at Allerman, who was staring at him as though he were wondering the same thing.

"I just came into the room, Dr. Allerman," said Paul. "I knocked, and as you did not answer—"

Allerman turned away, picked up the knife, crossed the room and carefully replaced it in the instrument case. Then, returning to Lorna, he grasped her shoulder, spun her round and held her so that she faced him.

"As an animal," he said slowly, regarding her intently, "you would be a splendid specimen. But as a human being, with such a beautiful human body and all the instincts of a wild beast—"

With a gesture eloquent with disgust he flung her away from him. She slipped and fell in a crumpled heap on the floor. Instantly she raised herself on an elbow, gazing up at Allerman as he stood over her, with eyes that blazed with hatred.

"I'll get you for this, you swine! You see if I don't! I'd have got you then if this fool hadn't interfered. But I'll still get you some time."

Allerman turned away and, crossing to the fireplace, took down the whip. Then he returned to his former position.

"Get me for this, too, then," he said, and brought the whip swishing down across her shoulders.

The girl screamed, and Paul stepped quickly forward.

"For God's sake, Dr. Allerman—" he began, and then paused in confusion as Allerman turned towards him with a cold, disconcerting stare.

"I must trouble you, Barlow, to mind your own business," he said frigidly.

Again he sent the lash cutting across Lorna's shoulders, and again she screamed. He tossed the whip aside.

"There is only one way to teach an animal obedience," he said, "and your disobedience compelled me to adopt it. Get up."

Lorna's face was a mask of hate, and except for the rapid fluttering of her eyelids she made no movement.

"Get up when I tell you!"

Slowly, her eyes fixed on Allerman's face, the girl rose to her feet.

"Evidently you are not entirely without intelligence," said Allerman.

Taking her by the arm, he flung her on to the divan. She fell across it and lay still, her face buried in her arms.

Allerman, without another glance at her or at Paul, crossed the room, seated himself at his desk and pressed a bell-push. Within a few seconds the door was opened and Stark appeared.

"Come closer, Stark."

The servant took four quick paces forward and halted.

"Look on the divan."

Stark turned his head and stared fixedly at the motionless figure of Lorna. It was almost as though the girl felt his gaze, for she raised her head and glanced towards him. As her eyes lighted on his grotesque face she caught her breath sharply and a little shudder shook her body.

"This one, I think, will do, Stark," said Allerman.

"Yes, master."

"I doubt if I could have found a more suitable subject."

"For the workers, master?"

The doctor shook his head.

"No, Stark. It would be a pity to waste such promising material on the workers."

"For the table, master?"

"Yes, Stark—for the table."

Suddenly Lorna sat upright. Her eyes were wild and there was a look of utter terror on her face.

"Here, what do you mean—the workers ... the table?" she demanded. "What's the game? What's this ugly devil got to do with me, anyway?"

"Control yourself," said Allerman sharply. "Stark is not going to eat you. He may be many things, but he hasn't cannibalistic tendencies." He turned to the servant again. "Beautiful, eh, Stark?"

"Beautiful, master."

"A beautiful body, Stark, but entirely without intelligence. Three parts prostitute and one part paranoiac."

Lorna sprang to her feet, livid with fury.

"Here, you mind what you're saying, damn you! There's nothing like that about me. I'm straight, and you've got no right—"

"Sit down!"

"You've got no right to start calling me—"

"Very well," interrupted Allerman. "If the diagnosis offends you we will insert the word 'potential.' Now sit down."

The girl sank back on to the divan. Allerman turned to the servant.

"I want my secretary at once, Stark. Fetch her."

"Yes, master."

Turning, Stark strode from the room.

For some moments, while Lorna and Paul both watched him, Allerman was absorbed in a document that lay on his desk, and appeared to have forgotten them. Then, as Jeanette came in and paused by the door, hesitating, he glanced up.

"Come in, Jeanette," he said. He waved a hand towards the divan. "This is Lorna. She will be staying here. I want you to look after her. And I want you to tell me, Jeanette, if you think she is beautiful."

Jeanette walked slowly towards the divan and stood for some moments gazing at Lorna. Then she turned to Allerman.

"Yes, doctor," she said; "she is beautiful."

Lorna was staring at Jeanette with a look of unmistakable repugnance on her face.

"Yes, look at her, my friend," said Allerman, "but don't make the mistake of despising her. She has a poor, weak, misshapen body, but the mind and soul of a great lady. You, Lorna, have in your body all the loveliness of her soul, and she in her body has all the ugliness of your soul. Nature is not very intelligent. Sometimes she is guilty of terrible mistakes and it is only a very few of them that we can put right. I'm glad you think her beautiful, Jeanette."

Jeanette glanced at him sharply.

"Doctor, you don't mean—not for the workers? You couldn't give her—"

Lorna, suddenly terrified again, sprang to her feet.

"Here, what the hell do you mean by the workers? What is this racket? You're not going to do anything to me—"

Allerman made a sign to Stark, who was standing by the door.

"Take her to No. 6, Stark."

Stark strode smartly forward and halted in front of Lorna, but she backed away from him, and he glanced at Allerman as if for further instructions.

"Go with Stark, Lorna," he ordered.

"Go with that?" exclaimed Lorna. "Not me! You don't catch me trusting myself with that damned gorilla—"

"Then take her, Stark."

The servant stepped towards her, and as he raised his huge hands to grasp her she gazed at him for a few seconds as if fascinated and unable to move. Then she suddenly turned and with a scream rushed to Paul and clung to his arm.

"For God's sake—don't let him take me—don't let him touch me! I don't know who you are, but you're the only one here who isn't against me, and I'm scared—scared stiff. They're going to take me away—-and do something to me—but I'm not going—I daren't go—you mustn't let them take me—"

Paul turned to Allerman.

"I don't profess to understand, Dr. Allerman," he said, "but the woman is obviously terrified. If I may suggest—"

"Precisely, Barlow," interrupted the doctor coldly. "You don't understand and are therefore not qualified to make any suggestion. I should have thought you would be well enough acquainted with the symptoms of hysteria to recognise them when you see them." He signed to Stark. "Take her, Stark."

Stark stepped quickly forward and his enormous hands gripped Lorna's arms. She gave a piercing scream and struggled like a mad woman, but Stark lifted her as easily as if she had been a doll, performed his about-turn and strode from the room.

Allerman was lost in thought for several moments.

"An interesting case," he murmured. Then, glancing at Jeanette: "Leave us now, please, Jeanette. I have a few things to say to Mr. Barlow."