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CHAPTER XVII - THE FIRST EXPERIMENT
Again Benita and her father stared at each other blankly, almost with
despair. They were trapped, cut off from all help; in the power of a
man who was going mad. Mr. Clifford said nothing. He was old and
growing feeble; for years, although he did not know it, Meyer had
dominated him, and never more so than in this hour of stress and
bewilderment. Moreover, the man had threatened to murder him, and he
was afraid, not so much for himself as for his daughter. If he were to
die now, what would happen to her, left alone with Jacob Meyer? The
knowledge of his own folly, understood too late, filled him with
shame. How could he have been so wicked as to bring a girl upon such a
quest in the company of an unprincipled Jew, of whose past he knew
nothing except that it was murky and dubious? He had committed a great
crime, led on by a love of lucre, and the weight of it pressed upon
his tongue and closed his lips; he knew not what to say.
For a little while Benita was silent also; hope died within her. But
she was a bold-spirited woman, and by degrees her courage re-asserted
itself. Indignation filled her breast and shone through her dark eyes.
Suddenly she turned upon Jacob, who sat before them smoking his pipe
and enjoying their discomfiture.
"How dare you?" she asked in a low, concentrated voice. "How dare you,
you coward?"
He shrank a little beneath her scorn and anger; then seemed to recover
and brace himself, as one does who feels that a great struggle is at
hand, upon the issue of which everything depends.
"Do not be angry with me," he answered. "I cannot bear it. It hurts--
ah! you don't know how it hurts. Well, I will tell you, and before
your father, for that is more honourable. I dare--for your sake."
"For my sake? How can it benefit me to be cooped up in this horrible
place with you? I would rather trust myself with the Makalanga, or
even," she added with bitter scorn, "even with those bloody-minded
Matabele."
"You ran away from them very fast a little while ago, Miss Clifford.
But you do not understand me. When I said for your sake, I meant for
my own. See, now. You tried to leave me the other day and did not
succeed. Another time you might succeed, and then--what would happen
to me?"
"I do not know, Mr. Meyer," and her eyes added--"I do not care."
"Ah! but I know. Last time it drove me nearly mad; next time I should
go quite mad."
"Because you believe that through me you will find this treasure of
which you dream day and night, Mr. Meyer----"
"Yes," he interrupted quickly. "Because I believe that in you I shall
find the treasure of which I dream day and night, and because that
treasure has become necessary to my life."
Benita turned quickly towards her father, who was puzzling over the
words, but before either of them could speak Jacob passed his hand
across his brow in a bewildered way and said:
"What was I talking of? The treasure, yes, the uncountable treasure of
pure gold, that lies hid so deep, that is so hard to discover and to
possess; the useless, buried treasure that would bring such joy and
glory to us both, if only it could be come at and reckoned out, piece
by piece, coin by coin, through the long, long years of life."
Again he paused; then went on.
"Well, Miss Clifford, you are quite right; that is why I have dared to
make you a prisoner, because, as the old Molimo said, the treasure is
yours and I wish to share it. Now, about this treasure, it seems that
it can't be found, can it, although I have worked so hard?" and he
looked at his delicate, scarred hands.
"Quite so, Mr. Meyer, it can't be found, so you had better let us go
down to the Makalanga."
"But there is a way, Miss Clifford, there is a way. You know where it
lies, and you can show me."
"If I knew I would show you soon enough, Mr. Meyer, for then you could
take the stuff and our partnership would be at an end."
"Not until it is divided ounce by ounce and coin by coin. But first--
first you must show me, as you say you will, and as you can."
"How, Mr. Meyer? I am not a magician."
"Ah! but you are. I will tell you how, having your promise. Listen
now, both of you. I have studied. I know a great many secret things,
and I read in your face that you have the gift--let me look in your
eyes a while, Miss Clifford, and you will go to sleep quite gently,
and then in your sleep, which shall not harm you at all, you will see
where that gold lies hidden, and you will tell us."
"What do you mean?" asked Benita, bewildered.
"I know what he means," broke in Mr. Clifford. "You mean that you want
to mesmerize her as you did the Zulu chief."
Benita opened her lips to speak, but Meyer said quickly:
"No, no; hear me first before you refuse. You have the gift, the
precious gift of clairvoyance, that is so rare."
"How do you know that, Mr. Meyer? I have never been mesmerized in my
life."
"It does not matter how. I do know it; I have been sure of it from the
moment when first we met, that night by the kloof. Although, perhaps,
you felt nothing then, it was that gift of yours working upon a mind
in tune, my mind, which led me there in time to save you, as it was
that gift of yours which warned you of the disaster about to happen to
the ship--oh! I have heard the story from your own lips. Your spirit
can loose itself from the body: it can see the past and the future; it
can discover the hidden things."
"I do not believe it," answered Benita; "but at least it shall not be
loosed by you."
"It shall, it shall," he cried with passion, his eyes blazing on her
as he spoke. "Oh! I foresaw all this, and that is why I was determined
you should come with us, so that, should other means fail, we might
have your power to fall back upon. Well, they have failed; I have been
patient, I have said nothing, but now there is no other way. Will you
be so selfish, so cruel, as to deny me, you who can make us all rich
in an hour, and take no hurt at all, no more than if you had slept
awhile?"
"Yes," answered Benita. "I refuse to deliver my will into the keeping
of any living man, and least of all into yours, Mr. Meyer."
He turned to her father with a gesture of despair.
"Cannot you persuade her, Clifford? She is your daughter, she will
obey you."
"Not in that," said Benita.
"No," answered Mr. Clifford. "I cannot, and I wouldn't if I could. My
daughter is quite right. Moreover, I hate this supernatural kind of
thing. If we can't find this gold without it, then we must let it
alone, that is all."
Meyer turned aside to hide his face, and presently looked up again,
and spoke quite softly.
"I suppose that I must accept my answer, but when you talked of any
living man just now, Miss Clifford, did you include your father?"
She shook her head.
"Then will you allow him to try to mesmerize you?"
Benita laughed.
"Oh, yes, if he likes," she said. "But I do not think that the
operation will be very successful."
"Good, we will see to-morrow. Now, like you, I am tired. I am going to
bed in my new camp by the wall," he added significantly.
*****
"Why are you so dead set against this business?" asked her father,
when he had gone.
"Oh, father!" she answered, "can't you see, don't you understand? Then
it is hard to have to tell you, but I must. In the beginning Mr. Meyer
only wanted the gold. Now he wants more, me as well as the gold. I
hate him! You know that is why I ran away. But I have read a good deal
about this mesmerism, and seen it once or twice, and who knows? If
once I allow his mind to master my mind, although I hate him so much,
I might become his slave."
"I understand now," said Mr. Clifford. "Oh, why did I ever bring you
here? It would have been better if I had never seen your face again."
On the morrow the experiment was made. Mr. Clifford attempted to
mesmerize his daughter. All the morning Jacob, who, it now appeared,
had practical knowledge of this doubtful art, tried to instruct him
therein. In the course of the lesson he informed him that for a short
period in the past, having great natural powers in that direction, he
had made use of them professionally, only giving up the business
because he found it wrecked his health. Mr. Clifford remarked that he
had never told him that before.
"There are lots of things in my life that I have never told you,"
replied Jacob with a little secret smile. "For instance, once I
mesmerized you, although you did not know it, and that is why you
always have to do what I want you to, except when your daughter is
near you, for her influence is stronger than mine."
Mr. Clifford stared at him.
"No wonder Benita won't let you mesmerize her," he said shortly.
Then Jacob saw his mistake.
"You are more foolish than I thought," he said. "How could I mesmerize
you without your knowing it? I was only laughing at you."
"I didn't see the laugh," replied Mr. Clifford uneasily, and they went
on with the lesson.
That afternoon it was put to proof--in the cave itself, where Meyer
seemed to think that the influences would be propitious. Benita, who
found some amusement in the performance, was seated upon the stone
steps underneath the crucifix, one lamp on the altar and others one
each side of her.
In front stood her father, staring at her and waving his hands
mysteriously in obedience to Jacob's directions. So ridiculous did he
look indeed while thus engaged that Benita had the greatest difficulty
in preventing herself from bursting into laughter. This was the only
effect which his grimaces and gesticulations produced upon her,
although outwardly she kept a solemn appearance, and even from time to
time shut her eyes to encourage him. Once, when she opened them again,
it was to perceive that he was becoming very hot and exhausted, and
that Jacob was watching him with such an unpleasant intentness that
she re-closed her eyes that she might not see his face.
It was shortly after this that of a sudden Benita did feel something,
a kind of penetrating power flowing upon her, something soft and
subtle that seemed to creep into her brain like the sound of her
mother's lullaby in the dim years ago. She began to think that she was
a lost traveller among alpine snows wrapped round by snow, falling,
falling in ten myriad flakes, every one of them with a little heart of
fire. Then it came to her that she had heard this snow-sleep was
dangerous, the last of all sleeps, and that its victims must rouse
themselves, or die.
Benita roused herself just in time--only just, for now she was being
borne over the edge of a precipice upon the wings of swans, and
beneath her was darkness wherein dim figures walked with lamps where
their hearts should be. Oh, how heavy were her eyelids! Surely a
weight hung to each of them, a golden weight. There, there, they were
open, and she saw. Her father had ceased his efforts; he was rubbing
his brow with a red pocket-handkerchief, but behind him, with rigid
arms outstretched, his glowing eyes fastened on her face, stood Jacob
Meyer. By an effort she sprang to her feet, shaking her head as a dog
does.
"Have done with this nonsense," she said. "It tires me," and snatching
one of the lamps she ran swiftly down the place.
Benita expected that Jacob Meyer would be very angry with her, and
braced herself for a scene. But nothing of the sort happened. A while
afterwards she saw the two of them approaching, engaged apparently in
amicable talk.
"Mr. Meyer says that I am no mesmerist, love," said her father, "and I
can quite believe him. But for all that it is a weary job. I am as
tired as I was after our escape from the Matabele."
She laughed and answered:
"To judge by results I agree with you. The occult is not in your line,
father. You had better give it up."
"Did you, then, feel nothing?" asked Meyer.
"Nothing at all," she answered, looking him in the eyes. "No, that's
wrong, I felt extremely bored and sorry to see my father making
himself ridiculous. Grey hairs and nonsense of that sort don't go well
together."
"No," he answered. "I agree with you--not of that sort," and the
subject dropped.
For the next few days, to her intense relief, Benita heard no more of
mesmerism. To begin with, there was something else to occupy their
minds. The Matabele, tired of marching round the fortress and singing
endless war-songs, had determined upon an assault. From their point of
vantage on the topmost wall the three could watch the preparations
which they made. Trees were cut down and brought in from a great
distance that rude ladders might be fashioned out of them; also spies
wandered round reconnoitring for a weak place in the defences. When
they came too near the Makalanga fired on them, killing some, so that
they retreated to the camp, which they had made in a fold of ground at
a little distance. Suddenly it occurred to Meyer that although here
the Matabele were safe from the Makalanga bullets, it was commanded
from the greater eminence, and by way of recreation he set himself to
harass them. His rifle was a sporting Martini, and he had an ample
supply of ammunition. Moreover, he was a beautiful marksman, with
sight like that of a hawk.
A few trial shots gave him the range; it was a shade under seven
hundred yards, and then he began operations. Lying on the top of the
wall and resting his rifle upon a stone, he waited until the man who
was superintending the manufacture of the ladders came out into the
open, when, aiming carefully, he fired. The soldier, a white-bearded
savage, sprang into the air, and fell backwards, while his companions
stared upwards, wondering whence the bullet had come.
"Pretty, wasn't it?" said Meyer to Benita, who was watching through a
pair of field-glasses.
"I dare say," she answered. "But I don't want to see any more," and
giving the glasses to her father, she climbed down the wall.
But Meyer stayed there, and from time to time she heard the report of
his rifle. In the evening he told her that he had killed six men and
wounded ten more, adding that it was the best day's shooting which he
could remember.
"What is the use when there are so many?" she asked.
"Not much," he answered. "But it annoys them and amuses me. Also, it
was part of our bargain that we should help the Makalanga if they were
attacked."
"I believe that you like killing people," she said.
"I don't mind it, Miss Clifford, especially as they tried to kill you."
Content of CHAPTER XVII - THE FIRST EXPERIMENT [H. Rider Haggard's novel: Benita]
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