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Updated: May 12, 2025
The other party had made a false move, for I now had definite evidence of the antagonism of Dr. Damar Greefe and of his intent to cause my murder through the agency of his Nubian servant. My plan of nocturnal operations, already sufficiently dangerous, now promised to lead me into extreme peril. I would have given much for the company of Gatton, but, if I must act alone alone I would set out.
In short, he had an idea that the London headquarters of the wanted man, whom we had now definitely invested with the personality of Dr. Damar Greefe, was somewhere within my immediate neighborhood! It was a startling conclusion and one which rested, as I thought, upon somewhat slender premises; but nevertheless I found it disquieting.
Greefe should have brought about the death of Sir Burnham or the death of anybody else." "No," said the old man, cunningly; "you can't, eh? Well, there be things none of us can understand and things some of us can. If you ever clap eyes on that there black doctor, like enough this'll be one of the things you'll be able to understand."
"'Tain't Lady Coverly," confided the old man; "it's that there black doctor." "What black doctor?" I exclaimed. "Him they call Doctor Greefe." "Oh," said I, "you call him the black doctor. Is he a negro?" "He's black," was the reply, "black he is although his hair is white. Oh, ah, there's black blood in him all right." "And what has he to do with the man-traps in the Park?"
Damar Greefe commenced to unfold a story of nameless horrors and save that his harsh voice grew ever weaker and weaker, he displayed not the slightest trace of emotion throughout his appalling revelations.
These people have rendered the neighborhood uninhabitable for themselves, now, and " Dimly to my ears came the sound of a gun-shot. "And have fled!" cried Gatton, springing up. "Quick! we must chance the gas!" "Why? What was that shot?" "A signal! Dr. Damar Greefe and 'the cat' have escaped!" He raced out across the landing, amid a chorus of frightened inquiries from the inn staff.
With the idea of drawing yet more intimate confidences: "You suggest that Dr. Greefe had some hold upon the late Sir Burnham?" "I don't suggest nothing." "Some hold upon Lady Burnham, then?" "Oh, ah, like enough." "Don't think," I added solicitously, "that I doubt the truth of your statements in any way, but what could this black doctor, as you call him, have to gain by persecuting these people?"
The voice was the voice of a gentleman, but the face was a mask a mask of Anubis; and seated there in that strange untidy apartment, amid varied relics of the past and obscure experiments possibly designed to pry into the future, whilst thunder boomed high over the Bell House, I determined to withhold from Dr. Damar Greefe the true nature of my mission.
But the evil eye, I'm told, goes with the evil heart, and that man's heart's as black as his face. Blacker," he added, on second thoughts. "Yet you have no positive evidence that Dr. Greefe is responsible for the setting of these man-traps and the attitude of Hawkins?" "Nobody has," declared my acquaintance earnestly. "If anybody had, we'd have had the law on him long ago."
But even as the plan suggested itself to me, I thought I perceived an answer to my question; in all probability, I determined, Dr. Damar Greefe or the Hawkins's, who were palpably his creatures, acted as a barrier between the tradespeople and the missing lady of the Park. But what it could all portend was a problem beyond the power of my imagination or deductive reasoning.
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