Left alone, the Traveler examined the body again. The heart was still beating and the blood on the forehead was already nearly dry; soon he would be coming round. If only she would hurry with that cord — their makeshift lashings would not hold him long, a great brute of a man with a maniac’s strength at that. At a pinch they might both cut and run while he was struggling to get free; but if he did get loose he’d kill some one before he’d finished. He wondered whether there was a telephone in the place. His sister came back with a candle, the only one, she said, in the house, and a good length of stout box-cord. The light was cheering, and the Traveler was able to secure the brute’s hands and feet carefully and at his leisure. There, he said at last, straightening his back; he’s safe enough for the present; now, is there a ’phone in the house? Good; go down and ring up the police and tell them to send round several men, with a strait-jacket, if they’ve got one, as soon as they can. Oh, but I’m frightened, she said; it’s so dark on the stairs; don’t make me go. I’m afraid you’ll have to, he said; here, you can take the candle; come, it’s nearly over now; run along quick, there’s a good girl, and the police will be along in a minute or two, and then everything will be all right. He could see that she was ready to collapse at any minute, but she took the candle and went downstairs.
In the dark he heard a low moan; soon his eyes growing accustomed to the absence of the candle, he could see some movement in the huge figure on the floor. He knew that the brute had come to and was trying to free himself. The table creaked. You can’t get loose, said the Traveler sharply; you’ll only hurt yourself trying. There was another moan followed by silence. The woman returned with the candle. Are they coming? he asked. Yes, she said, they promised to send the men at once. How far, he asked, is the police station? The other end of the town, she said, but it won’t... She broke off with a scream as her eye fell on the Chemist. Look, she whispered, look, he’s watching us. At that the Chemist shut his eyes and moaned again. For God’s sake loose me, he whined; these cords are killing me. Don’t answer him, said the Traveler; we can’t take any risks. For God’s sake, the Chemist whined again in his vile Greenock speech, for God’s sake let go my legs from the table so I can lie straight. We could do that, couldn’t we? said the woman weakly. No, snapped her brother; we can’t take any risks.
The Chemist began to talk, lucidly enough; he was all right now, he said, they need not be afraid; he didn’t mind being tied up so long as they would ease him a little; he was suffering terribly. When the Traveler ignored him he began to excite himself, threatening and imploring them by turns. He strained at the cords without effect, groaning and gasping, his face distorted, saliva trickling from his mouth. Then he lay still and began to talk rapidly about the child; it was his child, he said, and it was to be a genius, a superman, the greatest man that ever lived; fools that they were to stop the treatment, they should not stop it, he was the father and it was for him to say. His speech grew thicker, his accent so strong as to make his words barely intelligible. The boy was to be the greatest man that ever lived; it was simple, it was easy, but no one else had found the way to do it. Hemp, Indian Hemp, Cannabis Indica; they understood it in the East; but here, what did the doctors use it for? Chlorodyne and corn cures; no one knew but him, it was his discovery; steady dosing, minute at first but increasing month by month, from early childhood, and there was your genius, there was your pure intellect; fools were afraid of drugs, the doctors said they were harmful, yet all the great men had taken drugs in one form or another, all of them; they had suffered because the effect on the adult brain was to disintegrate the mental controls and unbalance the faculties; but steady assimilation by the growing brain, that was his discovery, no one else had seen it; it was simple but all the clever people missed it. The child would be the greatest man the world had ever seen; and but for meddling fools... He broke off, panting.
There was a silence. The woman sat cowering in a chair, gazing fascinated at her husband. They’re a long time coming, said the Traveler at last. Yes, said his sister, they should have been here by now. The Chemist was eying them cunningly; he began to whine and wheedle. He was safe now, he said; they could let him go; he must have his way with the child, that was all; cross him there and he was fighting-mad, but, that apart, he was as sane as they were. There was no response. He moaned, pulling feebly at the cords. Water, he gasped, for the love of Christ. Give him some water, said the woman, if you think it’s safe. The Traveler filled a glass from the carafe on the sideboard and, kneeling warily beside the Chemist’s head, poured the water into his open mouth. The Chemist spluttered and spat it out. You’ll choke me, he said between his coughs; loose my hands and let me take it myself; I can’t drink lying here. The Traveler shook his head. For the love of Christ, whined the Chemist, just let my hands go from the table so I can sit up. The Traveler shook his head.
There came a loud knocking at the front door which echoed through the still house. Quick, said the Traveler, run down and let them in; here, take the candle. Between them, in their haste, they dropped it and were in the dark. Quick, where are the matches? said the Traveler, fumbling on the table. I left them downstairs, she said. Then you’ll have to go in the dark, there’s nothing else for it; there’s not a spark left in the fire. I can’t, I daren’t, she whimpered; I can’t face those stairs again. The knocking was repeated. For God’s sake, said the Traveler sharply, pull yourself together; you must go — very well, then, I’ll go myself and you must watch him. There came a low groan from the floor. No, cried the woman, don’t leave me with him, I can’t bear it, he’ll kill me, he’ll kill me. While the Traveler stood perplexed the knocking was repeated, louder. Then we must leave him, he said desperately, and both go down. No, no, she sobbed; he’ll break loose and kill us on the stairs; we mustn’t leave him... I’ll go. She went to the door but drew back in terror from the dark landing. It’s no good, she said helplessly; you go, you’ll have to. Yes, I’ll have to, he said; there they are again, that’s the last time they’ll knock; they’ll think it’s a hoax and clear off. Now watch him and don’t answer a word; don’t give him the water whatever he says; I’ll be back with the police in thirty seconds. Now, watch him.
As he ran downstairs there suddenly came into his mind an explanation which he had not been seeking: that the Chemist had turned the gas off at the main before making his attack. Reaching the hall he flung open the front door. There was no one on the step. The high wind had cleared the sky and the street lay in bright moonlight. He stepped out onto the pavement, looked to the left — there was no one — looked to the right, and there, turning the corner at the end of the street, was a posse of policemen. They were gone. He shouted, too late. He could not make up his mind to leave his sister alone with that brute any longer, trussed up though he was; he was afraid that her nerve would go completely. But if he rang up the station they might have decided that it was a hoax and merely ring off. Every moment as he considered the policemen were further away. He must ring up and take his chance of persuading them. He stepped back to the open door; in front of him the hall yawned velvet black after the moonlight. As he stood, half in the light, half in the shadow, he heard the tiny sound of a scuffle upstairs, a crash, a scream cut short as it began, then nothing. The house was silent. Then he heard a quiet click-click at the head of the stairs. Silence again; he could hear nothing and see nothing in the darkness. There was the least sound of a little shuffle on the stairs like a faint breeze, and his ears, keyed up by fear, caught the sound of rough fingertips feeling their way down the wall. He felt sick; his heart shook him, but he could not move. There was a dim whiteness in the gloom and then the glint of steel; then it seemed that he heard a slow deep chuckle from the foot of the stairs...