We had been for some little time in this situation, and were debating whether we were likely to gain much information if things continued as they were, when the door to the laboratory suddenly opened. Both Clerval and I saw you emerge, an agitated expression on your face. Without pausing, you traversed the upper hall and continued down the front stairs, to what level we could not see. The light that had been in the laboratory was now extinguished; but what excited my determination to investigate further was that the door of that room had been left slightly ajar behind you.
Thinking it my duty to pursue my inquiries as thoroughly as possible, I swung quickly from one large branch of the tree to another, until I was able to climb quietly onto the edge of the roof.
In another moment I had entered the house, through the open hall window. Henry was only a moment behind me.
We reached the door of the laboratory and silently opened it. As we peered together into the mysterious room, the moon emerged momentarily from behind a wrack of flying clouds; its rays fell through the shuttered window strongly enough to bathe in a ghostly illumination the long table in the center of the room, and the long body of that table's occupant. The body was only partially covered by a sheet. The countenance, visible in chiaroscuro, was as solemn and hideous, and (as we then supposed) as irremediably lifeless, as that of one of the stone gargoyles carved upon Notre Dame.
Henry had already turned his attention elsewhere. "A charnel house," he whispered to me softly. Tearing my eyes away from that monumental figure upon the table, I looked about me, beholding various human parts, limbs and organs, preserved in jars and bottles, as well as the several varieties of medical and philosophical equipment with which, as you of course remember, the room was filled.
While Henry and I were still in the midst of our observations in the room, there came to our ears a faint sound from the direction of the back stair, such as might have been caused by the closing of a door somewhere below. In another moment both Clerval and myself were out of the laboratory, and in a few seconds we had made our exit through the hall window and were once more observing events from our place of concealment in the tree.
I ought to mention here that even during this retreat there was never a moment in which we were out of sight of the laboratory's only door; no one could possibly have entered the room during this time without our seeing him, any more than someone could have been concealed inside while we were there. We had both looked under the tables, and there was no other imaginable space in which to hide. I had even tried the shutters of the room's one window, and found them securely fastened from the inside. In any case, it would also have been impossible, short of magic, for anyone to have approached that window, by means of roof or tree, without encountering us.
The sound from below, whatever its cause, proved a false alarm. Another hour passed, while we remained in the tree, at the moment comfortable enough, and debating in whispers between ourselves whether we ought to maintain our vigil or abandon it. Shortly after you descended from the upper hall, we had seen a light appear in one of the rooms on the next floor down, and had assumed you were there. The rest of the house was in darkness.
I shall be eternally grateful that we decided to remain at our posts. For presently we heard another sound, this time unmistakably that of someone entering the rear stairs at the bottom and softly climbing. The peculiar layout of the house and grounds had allowed the newcomer, whoever he was, to approach the house without attracting our attention.
When Big Karl appeared in the dimly-lighted upper hall, we were able to recognize him immediately. Not only by his great size, but by a certain rolling peculiarity that I had noticed earlier in his gait; and he was humming, very softly, as I had heard him do before.
Our eyes were riveted on Karl as he approached the laboratory door. He paused in front of it, evidently struck by something, most probably the fact that the door was not tightly closed. Whatever his thoughts in that moment, in the next we were all distracted.
The lightning struck.
It was one of those violent preliminary bolts of a considerable storm, and it hit very near us. Clerval and I were both momentarily blinded, and almost stunned with the shock. I must admit, giving fair credit to an enemy, that it may have been only Franklin's iron points, installed upon the roof, that saved the house from destruction.
Both Clerval and I rapidly recovered our senses. We were in time to see Big Karl—I have no doubt that the figure I saw was still his—recover himself also, give his huge head a shake, and go on into the room.
In the moment of silence before the rain began in earnest, I heard a low cry, like a single, mumbled word, come out of that dark doorway. Now, looking back into my memory, I assume that it must have been uttered by the peasant, who on entering must have observed some sign of life in that great figure on the table. Naturally enough, the uncouth man knew superstitious terror at the success of an enterprise which, though his labors had served to advance it to some degree, was fundamentally beyond his comprehension. At the time, Clerval and I could only continue to watch with the greatest interest, and speculate on the reason for his outcry.
After crying out, Karl reached back to close the door behind him. He then remained in the room for several minutes, without lighting any lamp. Before our whispered speculations as to what he might be doing could arrive at any conclusion, the stalwart peasant again emerged into the hall. This time, the brief glimpse I was given of his face in the dim light suggested to me that he must be, like his master before him, in a state of extreme agitation. Karl had been empty handed when he went into the laboratory—I am sure of that—but when he came out he was carrying a heavy canvas bag. I want to emphasize at this point that it could not have been an entire body that the peasant was removing; the shape of the burden, if not its size, was absolutely wrong for that. And in any case the bag was not large enough to have contained a large body like the one we had examined on the table. The contents of the bag doubtless consisted of the various spare and disconnected human parts we had seen about the laboratory, and which were not there when we reentered the room with you next morning. I remember that someone remarked upon their absence at the time, but in the flush of our great discovery we none of us bothered to pursue the matter.
Karl departed at once, going down the back stairs more silently and much more swiftly than he had come up. In his haste to leave, he had again left the laboratory door slightly ajar; and now a gust of wind, part of the onrushing storm, opened it a little farther. The moonlight had now been completely obliterated by the hurrying clouds, but the intermittent flares of lightning were bright and numerous enough to allow us, in momentary flashes, quite a good view of the interior.
Gazing in—with Henry at my side, seeing the same things, and able to testify to them later—I saw the body on the table stir. The first movements that I beheld were moderate, only slightly disarranging the cover that until then had shrouded most of the form. Clerval, may his soul know peace, many times confirmed with me in later conversations that he had witnessed the same thing exactly.
When the next very bright flash came, almost enough to dazzle us again, the body was completely gone from the table. Only the coarse sheet remained there, and it was now completely disarranged.