He writhed once, with an indescribable liquidity of motion so undulant and boneless as to drive a thrill of pure horror through my brain. Then he sagged forward on the floor. He did not fall as a man falls, but slumped gradually, like a mass of liquescent jelly, losing shape and form.
A smell came to my nostrils, as of some putrescent decay transcending all other stenches in its vile and utter rottenness.
The hall was burning; black smoke whirled around me. I was numb from head to toe as if from a paralyzing shock; I tried to move but could not, and then my brain, which had looked upon the very brink of the Pit— and beyond—failed me. And I knew nothing more until I woke, hours later, on a white bed in Mercy Hospital.
They tell me that I have suffered second-degree burns and that I am temporarily paralyzed from nervous shock. The fools have moved me to the psychiatric ward, “for further examination" as they explain, soothingly. They tell me that I murdered poor old Gonzalez the night watchman, who came upon me while I was trying to steal or destroy the Ponape figurine; but they only smile unbelievingly and shake their heads when I tell them that it was not I, but the half-breed, did the deed. They ask me where I have hidden the figurine, and why I set fire to the South Gallery, and what happened to the blunt instrument with which they claim I bludgeoned poor Gonzalez to death. But they do not answer me when I ask them about the other body ... the body of the other man, damn it, the man who did the murder, the thing that looked and walked like a man ... why do they not tell me what became of the other man!
Addendum to the Statement of Arthur Wilcox Hodgkins of 34 Mission Street, Santiago, Cal. The above statement, as transcribed from shorthand notes by R.A. Wallis, public stenographer, on March 29, 1929, concludes at this point, for here the accused lost coherence, his speech trailing off into sobbing obscenities, whereupon he was given a strong sedative and returned to the violent ward of the psychiatric wing of Mercy Hospital, from whence he was later transferred to Dunhill Sanitarium, Santiago County, under the care of Dr. Harrington J. Colby. It is believed the accused will never sufficiently recover in order to stand trial.
Appended to the above statement are the coroner’s report on the body of the deceased, E. Gonzalez, and the psychiatric records of the accused. Also appended hereto: Report of Officer W. J. Whitby, the patrolman who discovered the body.
Extract from the Report of Officer J. Whitby:
2. Entered the premises at approximately 5:04 a.m. on the morning of 26 March, by forcible entry of main door. Section of premises later identified to me as South Gallery was ablaze at several points and windows at rear of hall were smashed. Used hall phone to summon Fire Department; partially extinguished blaze by means of equipment in stairwell.
3. Approximately 5:15 discovered two bodies: (1) deceased male of Spanish descent, approx. 60 yrs. old, in night watchman uniform; cause of death, injury to base of skull evidently caused by blunt instrument; (2) unconscious body of male Caucasian, approx. 30 yrs. old, suffering from effects of shock or smoke inhalation, or both.
7. Near base of fire-blackened empty stand at extreme end of hall, approx. 20 ft. from unconscious male Caucasian, I noticed a large pool or puddle of jelly-like fluid in copious quantities (several gallons). Nature of fluid unknown, but slimy in consistency and extremely offensive to the smell, like something long dead and rotten. Intermixed with said fluid I noticed sodden suit of clothing and something resembling pair of gloves or mittens. Unable to recover said garments, being driven from proximity to this part of South Gallery by heat of flames. Jelly-like fluid later found to have totally evaporated by time Fire Department had completely extinguished flames; clothing virtually destroyed, not burnt but rather dissolved into rags as if from immersion in acid of some kind. No bones or remnants of human flesh were discovered. Whatever it was, it melted away like a big jellyfish which decays rapidly when exposed to open air.
(Signed) W. J. Whitby. RD.
Badge # S/SC-104.
News item clipped from the Santiago County Sentinel, April 10. 1929:
"STATUE'S CURSE" CLAIMS FINAL VICTIM
Murder Suspect Ruled Insane
At a closed hearing at the Criminal Courts Building at ten o'clock this morning, Judge Maxwell J. Chase formally committed to Dunhill Sanitarium Mr. Arthur Wilcox Hodgkins of 34 Mission Street, this city, ruling him mentally incompetent to stand trial for the motiveless and brutal murder of Emil (sic) Gonzalez, also of this city. Gonzalez, an American citizen of Mexican descent, formerly employed as night watchman at the Sanbourne Institute of Pacific Antiquities, was found bludgeoned to death in the early morning hours of March 26th of this year. Near the corpse was discovered the unconscious body of the murder suspect, Mr. Hodgkins, apparently suffering from nervous shock. This tragedy occurred in the South Gallery of the museum wing of the Institute, within 20 feet of the pedestal on which the notorious “Pbnape Figurine” had been on public display for the two days previous. ...
... County Psychiatric Officer Wilson then concluded with the opinion that Mr. Hodgkins was hopelessly insane and recommended that the Court commit the patient to Dunhill Sanitarium on a permanent basis. Judge Chase concurring, the commitment papers were signed in the presence of the three doctors. ...
... remains unsolved, as does the origin of the mysterious fire which raged unchecked for three quarters of an hour through the South Gallery. Also unsolved is the mystery of the disappearance of the infamous statuette itself, whose whereabouts remain unknown.
MANY of Lin Career’s tales in this book share the premise of the narrator or protagonist inheriting a legacy that proves to be more trouble than it’s worth. (This premise was itself, of course, inherited by Carter from August Derleth and from many others.) In such stories, it is almost as if the benefactors had passed on to the next generation not their work so it might be brought to completion, but rather their own terrible fate. Lovecraft’s tales “The Facts in the Case of the Late Arthur Jermyn and his Family” and "The Shadow over Innsmouth" employ this theme of the "tainted lineage" as a literal genetic transmission of non-human genes, while in other stories the inherited taint is in the form of a haunted house or a set of books. The latter is the version the theme takes in "The Winfield Heritince" (the title of which seems to have been derived from yet another tale of this type, August Derleth's “The Peabody Heritage”).
This sort of story appealed to Lin Carter especially, I think, because it so closely fit the role he saw himself playing. He viewed himself (and his generation of fans, and ours) as the heirs of a tradition of blasphemous elder lore, that of Lovecraft and the Cthulhu Mythos.
As the great yogi named Berra said, "It’s déjà vu all over again," when we come to the scene in which the "Hardy Boys" discover more scar(c)e manuscripts than you can shake a shoggoth at. Haven’t we heard of these titles before? Of course, they’re ficticious fictions, imaginary literary horrors with power to damn the soul of the reader, thus all bastard whelps of Chambers’ The King in Yellow. Not the collection of tales he himself wrote, mind you, but rather the play which he did not write but which he wrote tales about. Don’t we wish our own horror creations could have such an impact on readers and censors alike!