Kinsman to Death

Preface

. A eew words may not be out of place at the commencement of this story. The main incident is entirely drawn from imagination, but the probability of such events is founded upon fact. To those who care to assure themselves that such things could happen, I recommend the perusal of a work upon " Hypnotism," by Dr Albert Moll of Berlin, in whose book upon this subject will be found the passages quoted hereafter, as nearly word for word as circumstances permitted. The Author. October 1890. CONTENTS. PAGE

Chapter I

A CLOUD THE SIZE OF A MAN'S HAND. Leonard Dyke sat by his study-table, his elbows firmly planted upon it, his head rest ing on his right hand, while the left lay on an open book before him, which he was study ing so intently as to be completely shut out from the rest of the world. His eyes ran rapidly from line to line, and every now and then the hand that supported his head was moved to take up a pencil and mark some passage of importance. Save for this, he had not stirred for some hours, and every feature betrayed the intense interest of his mind in his occupation. The room was a moderately large one, with tall ranges of bookshelves and cupboards on A three sides, whilst, by the window, which was now closed and curtained, stood two or three apparata with electric and other appli ances, such as doctors are in the habit of using in their profession.

The room was, in fact, the consulting-room and study of Leonard Dyke, M.D., who, in spite of his high degrees, taken both in England, Germany and France, was looked upon by his brother practitioners as somewhat of a charlatan. He had earned this reputation for him self, because he had, during his years of study abroad, interested himself in a branch of scientific research that finds but scant favour in the eyes of most of his colleagues in England. Not only had he read deeply and spoken openly of his reading, but he had studied the subject under Charcot at Sal petriere and with some of the celebrated members of the medical profession in Berlin who have advocated the serious application of mesmerism, and the allied branches of psychical science, to the healing art. No one could deny that Leonard Dyke was a clever doctor, and in the ordinary branches of medicine successful in treatment and diag nosis, firm, self-reliant and capable ; but when it came to a man not only reading and talking about hypnotism, but absolutely trying to effect cures by it, then his fellows, who tread in the footsteps of Galen, turned away their faces.

A charlatan or a madman he appeared in the eyes of most of them, and they shook their wise heads over his vagaries, and though some were glad enough to meet him in con sultation, and were forced, by his clear diag nosis and thorough medical knowledge, to respect his opinion, one and all thought that he would ruin himself with his strange whims. Fortunately for Leonard Dyke, he was not entirely dependent upon his profession for a livelihood. He was the son of West Country parents, who had, at their death, left him a moderate but sufficient income for a man of his tastes. But since his early boyhood he had taken to medicine, not as a thing to be swallowed, but as a thing to be studied, and he entered the profession from sheer love of it, and not to win his bread. Thus it was, that at the age of forty he found himself the possessor of a good house in Lon don, with a large practice and a considerably in creased income.

He had been too engrossed in his studies during his earlier years to take unto himself a partner of his joys and sorrows, and he had, but two years previous to the day in which we find him in his study, married a lovely girl, considerably his junior, the orphan of an old friend of his family. It is needless to say that, fondly as he loved his wife, and intensely as he admired her, he could not neglect for her sake his beloved profession, and partly from the duties of his calling, and partly from choice, he devoted himself with as much energy as ever to his scientific pursuits. On this late autumn evening he was so engrossed in reading a new book, treating of the subject that most filled his mind — that of hypnotism, in connection with medicine as an art — as to quite forget the lapse of time.

He had sat poring over his book ever since his return from his round of visits, unheeding all save the subject it discussed. He did not notice the slight noise made by the open ing of the door behind him, and it was only when a light hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a soft, low voice beside him pronounced his name, that he raised his eyes. " Is it you, darling ? " he said, with his hand still on the book, and in a tone of surprise, "AVhat is it you want?" It was a rare thing, truly, for his young wife to seek him in his consulting-room, and he had not noticed the hour. "Don't you know that it's already eight o'clock, Leonard, and dinner has been waiting half an hour ? " she replied, bending over him. "You sadly neglectful husband, do you like the company of your books so much that you forget your wife and your dinner ?

" He got up from his chair with a regretful sigh, and, putting the pencil between the pages to mark the place in his book, turned from the table. " I was so interested, Kathleen," he answered quietly, " I forgot time, and you, and every thing. Order dinner, and I will wash my hands change my coat, and join you in a moment." Mrs Dyke turned to leave the room with a strange feeling of disappointment ; it seemed so odd that her husband of only two years should be so calmly indifferent to her. She could hardly understand his absorption in books when he knew she was alone and waiting for him. It might have seemed even stranger to anyone else who had seen Kath leen Dyke that evening, for she was more than ordinarily beautiful in her long, flowing evening costume of plush of a silvery grey, made soft by a cloud of lace falling from throat to hem.

Her fair hair was drawn up, showing all the little waves and ripples to perfection, and her broad forehead was shadowed with stray curls that heightened the effect of the clear skin and deep blue eyes. Not having much companionship from her husband, Mrs Dyke had created for herself a little circle of friends, with whom she found her amusements, and in whose society she had learnt the art of dress, if nothing else. As Leonard Dyke came into the dining room he looked curiously unfitted to be the husband of this fair, girlish-looking wife. He was of medium height only, barely a couple of inches taller than she, with a square, strongly built figure, and a powerful face, redeemed from absolute plainness by a fine pair of dark, earnest eyes and a refined mouth, half hidden by a heavy, dark moustache ; his hair was very thick, and had, in his youth been inky black, but now was liberally sprinkled with grey, that looked like threads of pure silver by contrast.

He looked every year fof his age, and his face was grave and lined with thought, and the pallor of close study and hard work showed on his cheeks and brow. He looked at his beautiful young wife very fondly, and, now that he had left his books and work behind, his smile, always a peculiarly pleasant one, was gay and tender, as he said, — ' ' Here I am at last, my poor, lonely, little Kathleen. I have thrown all my musty old tomes aside, and taken a new lease of life, like Faust. What have you been doing all day without me ? " "Much as usual, Leonard," she answered, with a little touch of sadness in her voice ; " it's no new thing for me to be alone, is it ? " "No, darling, I am afraid not, but what can I do ? I must read to keep pace with the times, and one must walk hand-in-hand with science, never losing sight of her for one moment, if one would keep up with her."

" What would become of science if you neglected her as you do me, Leonard ? " said his wife with a smile. " Ah, but you see, Kathleen, I have never wooed and won her for my own as I have you, for good and all, my darling." " Science will slip away unless you hold her fast — how can you be sure I shall not ? " " God forbid," said Leonard Dyke in a low grave voice. " What makes you talk like this, Kathleen ? Are you so dull ? Do you miss my companionship so much ? Tell me. I must try to be with you more. I am so apt to forget all else when I get upon my favourite subjects." " I would not have you give up one hour to me, Leonard, from your studies. I am so proud of you, and all your knowledge, dear, though at times it seems a little hard," she con tinued, with a smile. " I see all my married friends with their husbands, and mine is always away, or busy.

Perhaps, however, I am better off than they ; it may be they see too much of theirs after all, and would not mind changing with me." "Heretic! you spoil a pretty little speech by your cynicism," said he, half laughing. " Are these the lessons your friends teach you ? I must indeed keep watch and ward over you, for my own sake." He treated the matter as a joke at the moment, but a cold thrill of uneasiness shot to his brain, and he was silent for a time, whilst the idea was present to him, that what his wife said might not be altogether void of truth. Did he leave her so much that there was danger for her peace of mind and his honour ? No ; it could not be. She was his, and his only, and it was folly to allow such phantoms as these to run riot in his brain, but, nevertheless, the sting of it rankled in him, and, for the first time in his married life, he questioned his wife eagerly as to her day's amusements.

" Whom have you been to see to-day, Kath leen ? Tell me how you have passed your time, dear ? " " Are you penitent for your neglect of me and the dinner, that you ask me ? You have never been so interested in my movements be fore, Leonard," she replied, with a gay laugh. Leonard Dyke's brow contracted a little as he fixed his searching eyes on his wife. Could she be trying to hide anything from him, he thought ; but the frank gaze that met his own disarmed him, and he smiled as he said, — "Of course I am penitent ; and all well regul ated husbands ought to be interested in what their wives do. You forget I have turned over a new leaf to-night, and shall be the most well-conducted of spouses in future." " I went to the Barnhams and the Longs, and when I was there I heard that the Dan gerfields had come up from the country for a little while, so I went to see them, and then I came in."

" Oh, are they in town ? " asked Dr Dyke. " I must really try and find time to go with you some day to see them. I haven't set eyes on them since the day my poor father was buried and old Dangerfield attended the funeral. Did you see any of the old West Country people at their house ? " " No one but Mrs Dangerfields nephew, Sir Alan Meyrick, whom you recollect; his place is close to where your father lived. He says he remembers you quite well, when he was a boy down there." " Oh, I remember him well enough, as a lad home from Oxford. What sort of man has grown into ? " "He is a very handsome man," replied Kathleen Dyke slowly ; "but I only saw him for a few moments. You will see him one day, no doubt ; he lives in London quite as much as he does at Meyrick Manor, and he said he should call upon us."

Leonard Dyke again looked up searchingly at his wife's face, for some instinctive feeling seemed to point out that, in this young man, might be the danger he dreaded for his wife. He remembered him some ten years ago as a slim, handsome lad of twenty, with his bright happy face, just the silky shadow on the upper lip and the bright brown hair ; in fact, the sort of face that might grow into a type of manly beauty perilous to the feminine peace of mind. He saw no trace of more than a common interest in her face, and again fought down his instinct of threatening danger. He thought decidedly that he was becoming suspicious, and felt ashamed of it. This was the outcome, no doubt, of all these psychical researches, and from probing continually into the mysteries of the mind. He was beginning to dread all sorts of weaknesses, where none existed.

He knew too much of the influence one human being can acquire over another, and, although it was to him but the outcome of science, it sent a cold thrill of uneasiness through him, lest a less scrupulous man should be aware of it too, and use it for his own amusement and benefit. He dreaded to fix the matter too indelibly in his wife's mind by pursuing the subject, so, to change the course of the conversation, he began to tell her of his day's work. " I have had no time to think of anything but work all day," he said, smiling. " It's true, I have paid many visits, but only professional ones ; mine is not such a gay, butterfly exist ence as yours, Kathleen." "And still you spend hours poring over musty books, when you have done your rounds. I can't understand your not liking to idle sometimes," replied his wife, for to her, the close printed matter in which she had found him so engrossed did not seem like rest or recreation after a long, toilsome day.

" It was not a musty volume to-day, darling, that made me forget the time, but a brand new book upon my favourite topic, and just come from the bookseller's," he replied, laughing. " It opens all sorts of new fields for experiment in hypnotism, and you know that is enough to keep me quiet for hours." " I think you are getting quite crazy on that subject, Leonard, and I am glad I don't know anything about it ; it seems to me a most uncomfortable study, from what you say. Who is your last patient, or, I think I ought to say, victim ? " " I am most interested in that young fellow whom you saw the other day at luncheon, George Holt. He is the best subject I have ever had to experiment upon, and his conduct, when under the influence of the hypnotic delusion, will do more to help my investiga tions than anything."

This was said with great interest, and when once Leonard Dyke talked of his studies, his r 3 whole manner changed ; he became eager and desirous at once to talk, and talk well, of what was to him of such paramount importance. ;' Who is this young man ? " asked his wife, more to please her husband by showing an interest in his pursuits than because she cared to know. "He looks pale and delicate. I felt sorry for him the other day." "He is a clerk in a city office, Kathleen, and seldom gets a holiday, a good reason for looking as he does, poor fellow ; he is glad enough to add to his small salary by coming to me in the evening as a subject. He supports a young wife and a child on what he earns." " Poor fellow ! he looks so young, too," said Kathleen Dyke, with a tone of pity in her voice ; " but all the same, I cannot understand a man giving himself up to be experimented upon, even to make money."

" I pay him well, and he is none the worse for it," laughed Leonard Dyke. " I don't make him do anything very dreadful, and when he wakes up he is none the wiser for what has happened to him." " I can't think how you dare do such things, Leonard," said his wife, with a look of astonishment. "Aren't you ever afraid of the conse quences ? " He laughed, and his dark eyes shone with amusement as he replied, — " Of course not ; if no one had dared to make experiments in my profession, we should all know as little as the barber-surgeons and leeches of Good Queen Bess's days." " Well, don't try to make any experiments upon me, Leonard ; I don't wish to be made ridiculous, even before you." "Nothing is ridiculous to me, dear," replied he, gravely ; " only so many more proofs of what can be done by will, working on imagination.

I can create a diseased state of mind and body by this power, and I shall discover a means to cure them too, if I can work hard and study closely." " Leonard, it is all horrible," said his wife, with a little shudder. " I wish you would leave these unnatural things alone ; you will come to some harm by them, I am sure." " Are you going to be superstitious, Kath leen ? But remember, little woman, these are not unnatural things at all. It is only be cause we don't understand them that we think they are," replied he, thoroughly determined to do battle for his theories, even to his wife. " Such phenomena have gone on since the world began, but no one ascribed them to their right cause, or found out that they could be turned to account." " I don't see what account it can be turned to, Leonard," she answered warmly.

" How can the fact of a few Brahmins and Fakirs, and such religious maniacs, being able to do certain things, either painful or mysterious to saner individuals, by means of some power, which may, or may not be the same as what you study, ever benefit the science of medicine ? " "By this means, Kathleen," he answered, with intense conviction. "If a man can be made, by his imagination, incapable of feeling pain, when he controls his senses by an effort, presumably of his own will, why shall not I, and others, if we can obtain complete mastery of the will and imagination of a human being, be able to render them also insensible to pain ? And as pain is disease, and disease pain, if not in its physical sense in its moral one, can we not alleviate, if not cure, by means of the same power ? It is to this end I work ; and each proof that I can bend the will and im agination of my subject to believe himself to be what he is not, and to do, say and feel, or not feel things, according to my suggestion, seems to bring me step by step nearer to my goal.

I can make George Holt fancy he is roasting slowly before a furnace heated seven times hot, or that he is freezing, degree by degree, encased in solid ice, by the mere force of my will over his imagination. I can bring marks like the brand of a red-hot iron on his skin by the mere suggestion that it shall be so ; or I can pierce his skin with sharp steel and he will feel no pain, if I say that he shall not feel. It seems to me that there is but little more to prove, and tha.t it's only a question of time, study and experiment to arrive at complete proof that one can cure, and I shall find it out. I must, and shall conquer the difficulty." He stopped, flushed with eagerness, his great, dark eyes flashing, and his hand clenched upon the table as he half leant towards his wife, as if to emphasise his words.

She drew back, startled at his vehemence, as she said, in a low tone, — " I cannot bear the idea, Leonard. To my mind it seems as if you wanted to interfere in the ways of God Himself. Abandon this horrible study ; it can do you no good." He shook his head gravely, and, resuming his usual calm, grave manner, answered, — "I cannot, Kathleen. I know so much, I must know more. If I succeed, so much the better ; if I fail, it will not be for want of trying, and I take the risks upon my own shoulders." Saying this, he got up from the table, and, opening the door for his wife to precede him, followed her to the drawing-room, and, truly, his shoulders looked broad enough to bear whatever was laid upon them, as he went upstairs. B

Chapter II. The Phantom Takes Shape

The next day was, as usual, a busy one for Dr Dyke, and with all his good resolutions, he was not able to spare any time to accompany his wife. For all that he could do, he could not shake off the strange presentiment that this young Sir Alan Meyrick was in some way or other to cross his path, and, contrary to his usual habits, he felt an unconquerable longing to take his wife with him, and go to call upon the Dangerfields, leaving his patients unvisited. This he would have done, although he knew that it was but a chance if he found the man he desired to see at the same house two days running, but he was called to a con sultation upon a very grave case, and it was impossible to refuse to attend for so frivolous an excuse. He left the house, however, feeling uneasy and preoccupied, his thoughts wandering to his wife and engaging themselves in all sorts of idle speculations about her, and her com panions and pursuits, instead of, as was customary with him, being centred upon his professional duties.

In fact, he hardly knew himself as he left the house and got into his carriage. He told the man to drive quickly, and leaning back against the cushions muttered — " There is something wrong with me. Nerves upset from too much study. I suppose. Am I going to be a jealous husband because of an imagination of my own brain ? " He laughed aloud, a short, hard laugh, with no mirth in it, and continued his soliloquy. " Physician, cure thyself. These disordered fancies are not for you, who claim the power to control will and imagination in others. Such thoughts shall not run riot in your brain." He leant forward, and taking his book of visits from the rack in the front of the brougham, where it lay together with some papers and various small cases of instruments, which he habitually had with him on his pro fessional rounds, he deliberately and resolutely chased all thoughts from his mind save those connected with his duties as a medical man.

When the carriage drew up at the house indicated, he sprang out, closing the door sharply behind him, rang the bell in the quick, peremptory way usual to him, whose time was valuable, admitting of no delay in answering, and entered, as calmly collected as if no dis turbing thoughts had filled his brain but a few minutes before. The brougham had not long left, conveying the busy doctor to his consultation, ere a ring came at his bell, and the grey-haired solemn looking servant, who appeared to have all the cares of his master's patients upon his shoulders, opened the door, to find a tall, handsome man upon the step. " Is Mrs Dyke at home ? " he asked, in a full, deep voice. " Yes, sir," replied the man, looking at him curiously, for he was a stranger, and Barton, who had been for years in the doctor's service, made an especial point of closely observing every new face.

" What name shall I say ? " Sir Alan Meyrick, for it was he, almost felt that it was his duty to explain to this solemn, black-coated Janus of the doctor's gate that he was an old acquaintance of the family, aud a fellow-dweller in the same county, so in quiringly did the man regard him, but he re sisted the feeling and answered, without a trace of hesitation, — " Say Sir Allan Meyrick," and followed the man upstairs. The drawing-room was empty, and the man closed the door, telling Meyrick that he would inform his mistress. Dr Dyke had not been wrong in imagining that Alan Meyrick might have developed into a handsome man. The fair promise of his boyhood had been fulfilled, and at the age of thirty-one he was a very handsome specimen of an English gentleman. He was tall beyond the average, strong and athletic looking, with curling brown hair and a singularly clear com plexion.

His blue eyes were shaded with long, dark lashes, of which many a woman would have been proud. His moustache was long and silky, and it hid the only feature of his face which was open to criticism. His mouth was weak, and the full lips too apt to remain parted, even when the rest of the face was in re pose, were, for manly beauty, too brightly coloured, resembling rather a feature belong ing to a young girl than a to strong man. But this slight defect was concealed by the moustache, and only close observers (or those some what spiteful critics, who are determined to find fault with anything) would notice it. It was no small astonishment to Mrs Dyke to hear that her visitor was Sir Alan. It is true that his appearance had struck her the previous day, but beyond the slight interest naturally awakened in every woman by a handsome man, she had not thought again of him.

She had not calculated that her ap pearance might also have struck him ; and it appeared strange to her that he should pay the call, which she now recollected he had begged to be permitted to make, so soon. How ever, if astonished, she was not displeased, and went down to the drawing-room to join her visitor, with a pleasant little feeling of flat tered surprise, which heightened the delicate colour in her cheeks and made her doubly pretty. She greeted him cordially, and a little flush came to her face as she saw the too evident look of admiration in his eyes. " I hope you will excuse my having taken advantage of your permission to call upon you so soon, Mrs Dyke," he said, in his pleasant, ringing voice, " but I was anxious to renew my acquaintance with your husband, and I hoped, by coming early in the afternoon, to catch him before he had gone out."

This was not true, and Kathleen Dyke knew it, for it could hardly be expected by any man accustomed to London ways, to find a fashion able doctor at home at four in the afternoon. " I am so sorry he is out," she answered, smiling. " He has only just left to go to some consultation or other. My husband is a busy man, and to find him you must come about three ; much too early an hour for you London society callers, I am afraid." " I shall certainly come at that hour, some day soon," he replied, looking fixedly at Mrs Dyke, " but I cannot feel that I have wasted my time, since I have found you at home." " Oh, I seldom go out before half-past four." She said this without thinking for the moment, and when she saw his face brighten and his eyes light up more and more with admiration, she was sorry the words had escaped her, fearing that he might take them for an invitation to repeat his visits, and she hastened to rectify the impression by continuing : "Unless, of course, anything obliges me to go out sooner."

It was an awkward explanation, and she was aware that it was so, and Sir Alan also perceived the mistake and was not slow in taking advantage of it. " I see," said he, with a smile, " you are afraid I shall repeat my visits at the wrong hour too often. You may trust me, however ; " and after a slight pause, he added, "Whatever my temptation may be to come and see you," and there was a slight emphasis on the personal pronoun, that did not pass unperceived, and brought the too ready blush again to Kath leen's face. She answered with a slight embarrassment, that pleased her hearer, and proved to him that his interest in her was not unnoticed. " My husband recollects you quite well, and will be so pleased, I am sure, to renew the ac quaintance." Sir Alan was too much a man of the world to press his slight advantage any further, and with ready tact began to talk on many indiffer ent subjects, keeping up an easy flow of con versation, until the time came for him to take his leave, which he did with a respectfully cordial air, begging to be remembered to Dr Dyke, whom, he said, he hoped to meet the next time he called.