The Doors of Death - Arthur B. Waltermire

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Title: The Doors of Death

uthor: Arthur B. Waltermire

Release Date: June 3, 2010 [EBook32671]

anguage: English

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The Doors of Death



By ARTHUR B.WALTERMIRE

Transcriber Note: This etext wasproduced from Weird Tales October 1936. Extensive research did notuncover any evidence that the U.S.

copyright on this publication wasenewed.]

A strange and curious story is this, about abanker whose only fear was that he might be

buried alive, like his grandfather before him



A heavy stillness hung about the greathalls and richly furnished rooms oJudson McMasters' residence, and eveseemed to extend out over the velvetawns, the shrub-lined walks and sun-

blotched reaches under the lacy elms andsomber maples.

Biggs glided about the sick-chamber likea specter, apparently striving to keepbusy, while he cast countless furtive,uneasy glances at the heavy figure under he white sheets. An odor of drugs andever tainted the air, and a small walnut

able near the flushed sleeper was ladewith the familiar prescription bottle,umbler and box of powders. On the

wall behind the table, near the head ohe bed, hung a small oil-painting o



apoleon.

The sleeper stirred restlessly, raised

himself painfully and slowly, andattempted to seek fleeting comfort in anew position. At the first movementBiggs was a shadow at the bedside,deftly manipulating the coverings andgently aiding the sick man with aenderness born of long service and deepaffection. As the massive gray head sank nto the fluffed pillow the tired eyes

opened, lighted by a faint glint ohankfulness. Then they closed again and

he once powerful body relaxed.With a pitiful, wistful expression on hisaged face, the faithful Biggs stood

helplessly peering at the sick man until



hot tears began to course down hisurrowed cheeks, and he turned hastily

away.

Biggs!"

The voice, still strong and commanding,

cut the semi-gloom like a knife.Biggs, who was about to tuck the heavycurtains still more securely over the

windows, whirled as though he hadouched a live wire, and in a flash wasacross the great room and beside thebed.

Did you call, sir?" His voice quavered.

No"—a faint twinkle lighted the sick

man's eyes—"I just spoke."



Ah, now sir," cried the overjoyedBiggs, "you are better, sir."

Biggs, I want some air and sunshine."But the doctor, sir——"

Drat the doctor! If I'm going to pass outwant to see where I'm going."

Oh, but sir," expostulated the oldservant, as he parted the curtains andpartially opened a casement window, "Iwish you wouldn't say that, sir."

I believe in facing a situation squarely,Biggs. My father and grandfather diedrom this family malady, and I guess I'

headed over the same route."



Please, sir," entreated Biggs.

Biggs, I want to ask you a question."

Yes, sir?"

Are you a Christian?"

I try to be, sir."

Do you believe in death?"

Biggs was thoroughly startled andconfused.

Why—a—we all have to die,

sometime, sir," he answered haltingly,not knowing what else to say.

But do we actually die?" insisted the

sufferer.



Well, I hope—not yet," ventured the oldservant. "The doctor said——"

Forget the doctor," interposedMcMasters. "Biggs, you have been iour service since I was a lad, haven'tou?"

Tears welled into the servant's eyes, andhis voice faltered.

Fifty-six years, come next November,"he answered.

Well, let me tell you something, that

even in those fifty-six years you never earned, Biggs. My grandfather wasburied alive!"

Oh, sir! Impossible!" cried Biggs, i



horror.

Absolutely," asserted the banker.

Why—are you—how do you know,sir?" in a hoarse whisper.

My father built a family mausoleum ihe far corner of this estate, didn't he?"

Yes, sir—he hated burial in the earth,sir, after reading a poem of Edgar AllaPoe's, sir!"

What poem was that, Biggs?"

I don't recall the name of it, but Iemember the line," faltered Biggs.

What was it?"



Oh, sir," cried the old man, "let's talk about something cheerful."

Not until we're through with thisdiscussion, Hiram."

The sound of his given name restoredBiggs somewhat, for the banker resortedo it only on occasions when he shared

his deepest confidences with his oldhouseman.

Well, the line goes, 'Soft may theworms about him creep,' sir."

A slight shudder seemed to run througMcMasters' body. Then after a tomb-like



silence, "Good reason for building themausoleum."

Yes, sir, I think so, sir."Well," with an apparent effort, "whehey exhumed my grandfather's remains

o place them in the new vault, the casketwas opened, and——"

Oh, sir," cried Biggs, throwing out a

rembling, expostulating hand, but thebanker went on, relentlessly.

——the body was turned over, on its

side, with the left knee drawn up part-way."

That's the way he always slept—i

ife." Biggs' voice was a hollow



whisper.

And that's the reason my father, after

building himself a mausoleum, insistedhat his body be cremated," saidMcMasters. "He took no chances."

Biggs' horrified eyes traveled dully tohe massive urn over the great fireplaceand rested there, fascinated.

Hiram, where is heaven?"Biggs' eyes flitted back to rest isurprize upon the questioner.

Why, up there, sir," pointing toward theceiling.

Do you believe that the earth rotates o



ts axis?"

That's what I was taught in school, sir."

If that hypothesis is true, we are rollinghrough space at the rate of about sixtee

miles a minute," figured the banker.

Now you say heaven is up there."Yes, sir."

Biggs, what time is it?"

The servant glanced at the great clock ihe corner.

Ah, it's twelve o'clock, sir, and time for our medicine," in a voice full of relief.

Never mind the drugs," commanded

McMasters, "until we finish our proble



n higher mathematics. Now, if I ask yowhere heaven is at midnight, which willbe twelve hours from now, where will

ou point," triumphantly.

Why, up there," replied the bewilderedservant, again indicating the ceiling.

Then," cried McMasters, "you will bepointing directly opposite from the place

ou indicated a moment ago; for bymidnight the earth will have turnedapproximately upside down. Do you getmy point?"

Yes, sir," replied poor Biggs,horoughly befuddled.

Then where will heaven be at sio'clock this evening?" fairly shouted the



sick man.

Out there," replied the servant,

hopelessly, pointing toward the window.And where will heaven be at si

o'clock in the morning?"

Over there." And Biggs pointed arembling finger at the fireplace. Then,Oh, sir, let's not—the doctor——"

Hang the doctor," interruptedMcMasters testily. "I've been thinkinghis thing over, and I've got to talk about

t to someone."But don't you believe in a hereafter?"

queried Biggs, a horrible note of fear i

his pitiful voice.



For a moment the banker was silent; themassive clock ticked solemnly on. Acoal toppled with a sputter and flare ihe fireplace.

Yes, Hiram," in a thoughtful voice, "Isuppose I do."

I'm glad to hear you say that," criedBiggs in very evident relief.

Ah, if you could but tell me," continuedhe banker, "from whence we come, andwhither we go?"

If I knew, sir, I'd be equal with theCreator," answered Biggs witeverence.

That's well said, Hiram, but it doesn't



satisfy me. I've made my place in theworld by getting to the root of things.Ah, if I could only get a peek behind thecurtain, before I go—back-stage, yoknow—mayhap I would not be afraid todie," and his voice fell almost to awhisper.

The Great Director does not permit theaudience behind the footlights, unless hecalls them," answered Biggswhimsically, the ghost of a smile lightingup his troubled features.

Another thing, Biggs, do you believehose stories about Jonah, and Lazarus,

and the fellow they let down through ahole in the roof to be healed?"



I do, sir," with conviction.

Do you understand how it was done?"

estily.Of course not, sir, being only a human."

Then tell me, Hiram, when you cannotsee through it, how can you swallow allhis theology?"

My faith, sir," answered Biggs, simply,aising his eyes with reverence.

At this, a quizzical smile came over thesick man's face.

In looking up, Hiram, don't forget, sincet is twelve-thirty, that we have swung

around four hundred and eighty miles



rom the spot you originally designatedas the location of the Pearly Gates."

Oh, sir, I beg of you," remonstrated theservant, "I cannot bear to have you jeston such a—why, master!" he broke of with a little cry, rushing to his bedside.

The quizzical smile on the banker's facehad suddenly faded, and his head hadallen feebly back upon the pillow.

Oh, why did he waste his strength so?"cried Biggs, piteously, as with tremblinghands and tear-blurred eyes he searchedhe little table for the smelling-salts.

After a few breaths, the patient sighedand opened his eyes wearily.



My medicine, Hiram, and then I mustest."

At midnight, Biggs, dozing in a big chair by the fire, was aroused by a voice frohe sick bed.

Hiram."

Yes, sir," scurrying to turn on a subduedight.

Where is heaven now?"oting the wan flicker of a smile, the old

servant pointed solemnly downward.



You are a bright pupil," came in ascarcely audible voice.

Thank you, sir."Do you know, Biggs, I wish I had led a

different—a better life."

You have been a good master, sir. Yohave been kind, you have given liberallyo charity," Biggs defended him.

Yes," cynically, "I have given liberallyo charity. But it has been no sacrifice."

You have been a pillar in the church,"ventured Biggs.

Yes," bitterly, "a stone pillar. I havepaid handsomely for my pew, and slept



peacefully through the sermons. I havebought baskets of food for the poor atThanksgiving and Christmas time, onlyo let others reap the happiness of givinghem away. I could have had so much joy

out of Christmas, if I would. I couldhave been a jolly, rosy-cheeked SantaClaus and gone to a hundred homes, myarms loaded with gifts."

True, sir, but you made that joy possibleor others."

When I should have known the thrill ot myself. I have not really lived, Hiram.

To draw the sweets truly out of life, onemust humble himself and serve hisellow men. Yes, the scales have falle

rom my eyes, Hiram. But it is too late,



the spirit is willing but the flesh isweak'."

It doesn't seem right, sir," said Biggsafter a pause.

What's that, Hiram?"

Why, sir, that you should be strickedown in the prime of life, just at a timewhen you could mean so much to others,

while I, old and useless, am permitted toive on. But I am not finding fault witProvidence, sir," Biggs hastened to say;I just can't find the meaning of theiddle, sir."

Probably I've had my chance andumbled it, Biggs."



Even so, sir, God is not vindictive,according to my ideas. There surely issome other solution. I'm still going topray that He will take me in your stead,even if a miracle must be performed."

So you have faith in your prayers, doou, Biggs?"

Yes, sir, if they are unselfish prayers."

That brand is rather scarce, I take it,"answered McMasters, but his tone waseflective rather than sarcastic.

Oh, sir, I wish you would pray as I do.God would surely understand."

Rather a queer request, Hiram. If my

ife depends upon your death no prayer



shall ever pass my lips."

But, sir, I'm an old——"

However," interrupted McMasters, "Ishall pray that if my life is spared in anyother fashion, I will make full amends

or my years of indifference and neglect.And, Hiram, no one knows how much Iruly seek this divine dispensation. But I

have always scoffed at death-bedconfessions, and so my heart growscold, for I have no right to ask—now."Again, wearily, "No right—now."

Ah, master, God is plenteous in mercy.f you but have the faith, sir, it shall

make you whole."

Very good, had I lived as you have



ived, Biggs." Then, after a pause, "Still,he cause is worthy, my heart is right and

shall approach the Throne. May Godbe merciful unto me, a sinner."

I hope it is not too late yet," falteredBiggs. "Oh, if God would only call men your stead, that you might still do the

good work that you find it in your hearto do, how gladly would I go."

A deep sigh was his only answer.

A long silence was finally broken by thesick man. But when he spoke, his voicewas so strange and uncanny that the



servant hastened close and peeredanxiously into the fever-flushed face ohe sufferer.

Hiram—I must tell you—a secret,"came in a laborious, almost sepulchral,whisper.

Biggs came closer.

Bring a chair and sit down. I must talk

o you."As the old servant again leaned forward,he sufferer hesitated; then with a

obvious effort he began.Hiram, I am going to give you somenstructions which you must obey to the

etter. Will you promise to keep them?"



I swear it, sir," with great earnestness.

Good! Now, if this fever seals my lips

and the doctor pronounces me dead——"

Please, sir," Biggs broke in, tears

streaming down his furrowed cheeks, buthis master continued in the samesubdued voice, "Whatever happens, I anot to be embalmed—do you hear me?— not embalmed, but just laid away as I anow."

Yes, sir," in a choked voice, which fullybetrayed the breaking heart behind it.

And now, Hiram, the rest of the secret."He paused and beckoned Biggs to leacloser.



In my vault—in the mausoleum, I havehad an electric button installed. Thatbutton connects with a silver bell. Liftup that small picture of Napoleon, thereupon the wall."

His hands trembling as with the palsy,Biggs reached out and lifted aside thepicture hanging near the head of the bed,and there revealed the silver bell, fittednto a small aperture in the wall. Then,

with a sob, he fell back into his chair.

Hiram"—in a whisper—"after theybury me, you are to sleep in this bed."

With a cry, the old man threw out ahorrified, expostulating hand. Catching iteverishly, the banker half raised himsel



n bed.

Don't you understand?" he cried

iercely. "I may not be dead after all.Remember grandfather! And Biggs—ihat bell rings, get help—quick!"

Suddenly releasing his hold, McMastersell back limply among the pillows.

All through the long night the faithfulBiggs maintained a sleepless vigil, buthe banker lay as immovable as a stone.

When the rosy-cheeked dawn camepeeping audaciously through thecasements, Biggs drew the heavy



curtains tightly shut once more.

ot until the doctor's motor whirled

away did the patient rouse from hisethargy.

Apparently strengthened by his deep

stupor he spoke, and Biggs stoodnstantly beside him.

What did the doctor say?"

Biggs hesitated.

Out with it, I'm no chicken-heartedweakling."

Nothing much," admitted Biggs, sadly.He only shook his head very gravely."

He doesn't understand this family



malady any more than the old quack whoallowed my grandfather to be buriedalive," said McMasters almost fiercely.

Biggs shuddered and put a tremblinghand to his eyes.

What ails me, Biggs?" almostplaintively. "No one knows. This fever has baffled the scientists for years. Wheou fall into a comatose condition they

call it suspended animation. That's thebest thing they do—find names for diseases. My family doctor doesn't haveany more of an idea about this maladyhan you or I. The average physician isust a guesser. He guesses you have aever and prescribes a remedy, hoping

hat it will hit the spot. If it doesn't he



ooks wise, wags his head—and triessomething else on you. Maybe it worksand maybe it doesn't. The only thing myguesser is absolutely sure of is that if Iive or if I die, he will collect a princelyee for his services."

Biggs remained statuesque during thepause.

Gad," McMasters broke out agaiestily, "if I fiddled around in my

business like that I'd be a pauper in amonth."

But the doctor says you're coming on,"ventured Biggs.

Sure he does," answered the banker with a sneer. "That's his stock in trade. I



know that line of palaver. Secretly, heknows I am as liable to be dead as alivewhen he comes again."

Oh, sir, you aren't going to die!"

That's what I'm afraid of, Biggs. But

hey'll call me dead and go ahead andembalm me and make sure of it."

Oh, sir, I wish——"

Now remember, Biggs," broke in thesick man, "shoot the first undertaker thatries to put that mummy stuff in my

veins."I understand perfectly, sir," answered

Biggs, fearful lest the other's excitement

might again give him a turn for the



worse.

I know I'm apparently going to pass

away. My father and grandfather bothad this cussed virus in their veins, and Idon't believe either of them was deadwhen he was pronounced so!"

Well, if by any chance—that is, if you,"began Biggs desperately, "if you areapparently—dead—why not have thekeep your body here in the house for aime?"

Convention, formality, custom, hide-bound law!" the banker fairly frothed.The health authorities would come here

with an army and see that I was buried.o, Biggs, I've got a fine crypt out there,



all quiet and secure, good ventilation,electric lights, like a pullman berth—anda push-button. That precludes allnotoriety. It's secret and safe. Theelectrician who installed the apparatusdied four years ago. So you and I, alone,possess this knowledge."

Don't you think someone else shouldknow of it too? Your attorney, or——"

No, Biggs. If I really am dead I don'twant anyone to write up myeccentricities for some Sunday magazinesheet. And if I do come back, then it willbe time to tell the gaping public aboutmy cleverness."

I wish you weren't so—so cold-



blooded about it all, sir."

I have always hit straight from the

shoulder, Hiram, and I'm facing thisdeath business as I'd face any other proposition. I'm not ready to cash in, andf I can cheat the doctors, undertakers,awyers, heirs, and chief mourners for aew more years, I'm going to do it. And

don't forget poor old granddad. He mighthave been up and about yet had he butused my scheme."

Biggs turned away, sick at heart. It wasoo terrible beyond words. To him his

eligion was as essential as daily bread.



Death was the culmination of cherishedbelief and constant prayer. As his yearsdeclined he had faced the inevitable daywith simple faith that when the summonscame he would go gladly, like him "whowraps the drapery of his couch abouthim and lies down to pleasant dreams."With throbbing heart he listened for another torrent of words that would stillurther stab his sensitive soul; for he had

oved and revered his master from hisouth up.

But no words came. He wheeled about.

The massive head had fallen limplyamong the pillows. Pallid lips wererying to form sentences without result.

Then the great body seemed to subsidemmeasurably deeper into the covers and



a death-like stillness fell upon the room.

ntuitively feeling that his master was

worse than at any previous relapse,Biggs made every effort to revive him,gently at first, and then by vigorouslyshaking and calling to him in a heart-broken, piteous voice. But to no avail.The heavy figure looked pallid andcorpse-like under the snowy sheets.

Long hours dragged by, and still theonely old servant sat mutely beside the

bed, only aroused, at last, by theperemptory, measured call of theelephone bell.

Yes," said Biggs in a quavering voice.Oh yes, Doctor Meredith, Master's



esting easy. Don't think you'll need tocome until tomorrow."

I'll keep them away as long as I can," hemuttered, as he slipped back to his vigil.God grant—maybe he'll come back—

and take up the work of the Master, soong delayed. Oh God! If Thou wouldst

only take me in his stead!"

Sleeping fitfully, Biggs sat dumblyhrough an interminable night, but the

new day brought no reassuring sign frohe inert form. The stillness was

appalling. The other servants werequartered in a distant part of the mansioand only came when summoned. AgaiBiggs assured the physician that he could

gain nothing by calling, and another



awful night found him, ashen anddistraught, at the bedside. Sometime ihe still watches he swooned and kindly

nature patched up his shredded nerves,before consciousness once more arousedhim. But the strain was more than hecould bear. So when the anxiousspecialist came, unbidden, he found ashattered old watchman who brokedown completely and babbled forth the

whole mysterious tale, concealingnothing but the secret of the tomb.

n a coffin previously made to order,

hey laid the unembalmed remains oJudson McMasters in the familymausoleum, and the world which hadelt his masterful presence for so manyears paused long enough to lay a costly



ribute on his bier and then wentsmoothly on its way.

ot so with the faithful Biggs.Ensconced in his master's bedroom, henightly tossed in troubled sleep, filledwith the jangling of innumerable electricbells. And when—on the tenth night,after he had been somewhat reassuredhat all was well—he was suddenly

awakened by a mad, incessant ringingrom the hidden alarm, a deathly

weakness overcame him and it wassome time before he was able to drag his

palsied body from the bed. Witumbling, clumsy fingers he tried tohasten, but it was many minutes beforehe tottered, half dressed, out of the room.And as he did so, his heart almost stood



still, then mounted to his throat as if tochoke him.

Biggs!"—a voice—McMaster's voicewas calling.

He staggered to the head of the wide,

massive stairway and looked down.There stood the banker, pale, emaciated,but smiling.

And then, as from an endless distance,came more words:

I forgot to tell you that I had a trap-door

n the end of the casket. When you didn'tanswer the bell, I found I could comealone."

With an inarticulate cry, Biggs stretched



out his trembling arms.

My Master, I am coming now."

Then he swayed, stumbled, clutchedeebly at the rail and plunged headlongo the foot of the stairs, a crumpled,

ifeless form.

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