Japanese Tales of Mystery & Imagination (11 page)

"I forgive you!" it said.

Tears immediately welled in Tokiko's eyes, and she began to feel dizzy. It was evident that her husband had managed to drag his truncated body across the room, picked up a pencil from the low desk in his mouth, laboriously written the curt message, and then—

Suddenly Tokiko came alive with action.

"Quick!" she shouted, her face paling. "He may be committing suicide!"

The Washio household was quickly aroused, and soon servants came out with lanterns to search the field. Hither and thither they looked, trampling down the weeds between the main house and the cottage.

Tokiko anxiously followed old man Washio in the dim light of the lantern which he held. While she walked the words "I forgive you" kept leaping to her mind; clearly this was his answer to the message she had traced on his chest. Turning the words over and over in her mind, she came to realize that his message also meant: "I'm going to die. But do not grieve, because I have forgiven you!"

What a heartless witch she had been! In her mind's eye she could vividly see her limbless husband falling down the stairs and crawling out into the darkness. She felt that she would choke with sorrow and remorse.

After they had walked about for some time, a horrible thought struck her. Turning to the general, she ventured: "There is an old well hereabouts, isn't there?"

"Yes," he replied gravely, immediately understanding what she meant.

Both of them hurried in a new direction.

"The well should be around here, I think," said the old man finally, as if talking to himself. Then he held up his lantern to spread as much light as possible.

Just then Tokiko was struck by some uncanny intuition. She stopped in her tracks. Straining her ears, she heard a faint rustling sound like that made by a snake crawling through the grass.

She and the old man looked toward the sound, and almost simultaneously they both became transfixed with fear.

In the dim light a black thing was wriggling sluggishly in the thick growth of weeds. Suddenly the thing raised its head and crawled forward, scraping the ground with projections like excrescences at the four corners of its body. It advanced stealthily inch by inch.

After a time the upraised head suddenly disappeared into the ground, dragging its whole body after it. A few seconds later they heard the faint sound of a splash far beneath the ground in what seemed like the bowels of the earth.

Tokiko and the general finally mustered enough courage to step forward . . . and there, hidden in the grass, they found the old well, its black mouth gaping.

Strangely enough, in those timeless moments it had been the image of a caterpillar which had flashed again into Tokiko's mind—a bloated creature slowly creeping along the dead branch of a gaunt tree on a dark night . . . inching its way to the end of the branch and then suddenly dropping off . . . falling down... down into the boundless darkness beneath.

         
CLIFF

T
HE SEASON IS SPRING. ATOP A
cliff, about a mile from K——Spa, two persons are sitting on a rock. Far below them in the valley can faintly be heard the babbling water of a river. The man is in his mid-twenties, the girl slightly older. Both are wearing the padded outer kimono of a hot-spring hotel.

G
IRL
: Isn't it odd that in all this time we've never discussed those incidents that keep preying on our minds so. Sometimes I think I'll suffocate if I don't discuss them. Since we have so much free time today, let's talk about those things of the past a little. You won't mind, will you, darling?

M
AN
: Of course not, my dear. You go ahead, and I'll add my comments from time to time.

G
IRL
: Well, let's see. . . . To begin at the beginning, there was that night when I was lying in bed, side by side with Saito. He was weeping as usual, with his face pressed against mine, and his tears kept trickling into my mouth—

M
AN
: Don't be so explicit!
I
don't want to hear the details of your intimacies with your first husband.

G
IRL
: But this is an important part of the story, because that was when I first had a clear insight into his plans. But all right—for your sake I'll omit the details. . . . So, it was just as I tasted the salt of his tears that I suddenly told myself something was queer. The way he was crying that night was far more intense than usual, as if he had some hidden reason. Startled, I drew back and looked into his tear-stained eyes.

M
AN
: That must have made your blood run cold—to have your married happiness suddenly turn into fear. I remember your telling me that he seemed to have pity in his eyes as he returned your look.

G
IRL
: Yes, his eyes spoke eloquently of the pity he felt for me. I believe a man's innermost secrets can be read in his eyes. And on this occasion certainly, Saito's eyes were so eloquent that I perceived his thoughts instantly.

M
AN
: He was planning to kill you, wasn't he?

G
IRL
: Yes. But, of course, the whole thing was only a sort of game for him. In many ways he was a sadist, as you know, and I was just the opposite. I'm sure that's why he wanted to play the game. There's no denying that we loved each other, but we both incessantly craved for more excitement.

M
AN
: I know,
I
know! You needn't say any more.

G
IRL
: That night was the first time
I
felt
I
could plainly read his mind. Vague suspicions had disturbed me for some time, but now real fear gripped my heart. I shuddered to think he would go to such lengths. But I was thrilled in spite of my fears.

M
AN
: That look of pity you saw in his eyes—that was part of the game too, wasn't it? He wanted you to be frightened, and this was his way of hinting at what was in store for you. And then—

G
IRL
: Then there was the man in the blue overcoat.

M
AN
: Yes, with a blue felt hat, dark glasses, and a thick mustache.

G
IRL
: You had seen him before, hadn't you?

M
AN
: Yes, there I was, a striving painter boarding at your house, playing the role of a clown in the midst of your and your husbands affairs. It was one day while I was out roaming the streets that the man first attracted my attention. And when I asked the owner of the teahouse on the corner, she told me the stranger had been asking a lot of questions about your house.

G
IRL
: It was after you brought me this news that
I
happened to see him myself. The first time was outside my kitchen, and twice more near the front gate. Each time he was standing like a shadow, dressed in his baggy overcoat, both his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

M
AN
: I thought he was a sneak thief at first, and several servants in the neighborhood also warned me about him.

G
IRL
: But he turned out to be much worse, a far more dangerous character than a mere sneak thief, didn't he? Somehow, that dreadful night, his sinister form leapt to my mind the instant I gazed into my husband's tear-stained eyes.

M
AN
: And then you had a third hint of his plans, didn't you?

G
IRL
: Yes, those detective stories you started bringing us. We'd read detective stories before, of course, but you really aroused our interest in the art of crime. It all started a few months before we saw the mysterious stranger, and almost every night we used to discuss nothing but various successful crimes. Saito, my husband, of course, was the most enthusiastic of all, as you may recall.

M
AN
: Yes, that was about the time he thought up the best plot of them all.

G
IRL
: You mean that trick of dual personality. There certainly were a lot of different ways of creating a dual personality, weren't there? I remember that long list you made up.

M
AN
: Thirty-three different ways, if
I
remember correctly.

G
IRL
: But Saito was most impressed with the possibility of creating an utterly nonexistent character.

M
AN
: The theory was a simple one. For example, if a man decided to commit a murder, he would first create an imaginary character far in advance of the crime. This character would be his double. His description would be simple, with, say, a false mustache, dark glasses, and conspicuous clothing. Then he would have this double of his establish a residence far removed from his real domicile, and he would proceed to live two lives. While the real character would supposedly be away at work, the double would be at
his
home, and vice versa. Matters would be even more simple in the event one of the two characters went away on a long trip. With the stage thus set, the murder could be committed at an opportune time, but immediately before the crime the imaginary character would make himself very obvious to several witnesses. And then, following the crime, he would vanish completely from the face of the earth. Beforehand, of course, he would have destroyed all incriminating evidence, such as his disguise. As a result, he would be permanently missing from his home, while the real character would merely resume his former way of life. Naturally, as the crime was committed by a nonexistent character it would be a perfect crime.

G
IRL
: Saito kept talking about this until
I
thought he was going crazy. All this I recalled as I stared into his eyes. But there was one more clue to his hidden thoughts. It was that diary, which he had "hidden" for the express purpose of having me find it. But the diary was planted for me to read, so of course it didn't mention his real secrets. For example, there was not a word about his mistress.

M
AN
: It was like crossing out lines in a letter to make sure they'd be read.

G
IRL
: I read the diary from cover to cover. Several pages were devoted to the dual-personality idea. I was quite struck by his ingenious ideas. And I must say he was a wizard with the pen.

M
AN
: Go on.

G
IRL
: Well, those were the three clues
I
had. First, the look in his eyes; next, the man in the blue overcoat; and finally, the diary describing the dual-personality trick. But somehow I had the feeling that the picture was incomplete. There seemed to be no motive. You supplied this when you told me about his mistress. After that I could never look into his eyes without seeing there the reflection of some beautiful girl I imagined his mistress to be. At times I even thought I could smell her perfume on him.

M
AN
: In other words, these four clues convinced you that he was planning to kill you so he could get the fortune you inherited from your father, and then live with his mistress.

G
IRL
: Yes, but at the same time
I
knew he was only playing a game to frighten me.

M
AN
: Yes, maybe that's what you thought, but his motive was real enough. His plan was to steal into your bedroom in disguise, kill you, and vanish. Later the real Saito would return, "discover" your murder, and play the delicate role of the grief-stricken husband.

G
IRL
: Yes, but as I said before, it was only part of the same game to frighten me, and to enjoy the thrill of suspense. You can imagine what a horrible game it was! That was the thrill he was aiming for. It's surprising how all these details came to my mind with full clarity in the split second I stared into his eyes.