Page:Weird Tales v02 n01 (1923-07-08).djvu/86

THE old Moritz House in the Hague was occupied, ages ago, by a man of royal birth, named Prince Moritz. The tale runs that one year in the late sixteen hundreds, when Holland was heavily oppressed by the Spaniards, a band of Dutch youths, having attacked an officer of the enemy, sought refuge in this house. The prince concealed them in an upper chamber, and upon being ordered to surrender them, nobly refused to do so, insisting that they were nowhere to be found within his property.

Breaking through the doors, the Spanish searched the place and found the "protestant dogs" in the chamber mentioned, where they slaughtered them, fourteen in all, in a most brutal manner. The prince, who was an old man, changed his residence immediately and died, shortly after, from grief.

The tale bears no connection to my story, but is merely a bit of history relating to the house, which should impress it upon the reader's mind as a place grown-over with mystery and legend.

Soon after the prince's death, the house was converted into a museum for paintings, and in the so-called slaughter room was hung Rembrandt's famous "Lesson in Anatomy."

The picture is given the room to itself. In front of it are benches upon which lovers of fine art may rest themselves and gaze upon the canvas. Rembrandt, specialized in portrait paintings. In his faces are the most vivid expressions of interest, love, horror, wonder or fear, and there is a depth to his eyes that is haunting.

The "Lesson in Anatomy," represents seven medical students with keen, interested faces, bending over a table upon which lies a human body, unclothed and with one of its arms dissected to show the muscles. An instructor stands pointing his scissors to something about the arm, and lecturing to the students. The room in which the lesson takes place is darkened and from somewhere above, a pale yellow light falls upon the corpse.

I was fascinated the moment I saw the thing, and I sat spellbound for more than an hour, gazing at it. When, at length, I departed, its influence was so upon me that I could think of nothing else.

"I must return," I thought, "and see that picture once more before I leave." (I was only passing through the city.)

Accordingly, toward evening I set out for the museum. Knowing that it closed at seven o'clock, I quickened my steps, but arrived just as the guardian was locking the doors.

I pleaded that I might be allowed just another glimpse of the work, but the fellow was obstinate and, turning his key, departed. Waiting until he had disappeared in the dusk, I tried the door but found it to be as firm as he. There were, however, casements, one on either side; I tried them both. The one held against me, but the other—as I pressed it—gave way; and thus I stole into the hall.

It was growing so dark that soon I would be unable to see the object of my visit. I am not a prey to superstition, but as I climbed the steps, listening to them creak and echo through the galleries, such a feeling as I had never had crept over me. I felt strangely desolate and lonely. It seemed queer, moreover, as I reflected upon it, that I had been impelled to revisit the picture at this hour. My heart beat audibly. Softly tip-toeing, I approached the door. Summoning all my courage, I placed my hand on the knob, and swung it open. I paused———.

How long I stood thus in the doorway, I know not. It was probably until the supernatural force that had gripped me at the moment of my entrance, drew me on. As in a dream, I advanced. The light upon the corpse was so intensified that it confined itself no longer to the canvas, but spread about the room, illuminating the very walls and benches. Such a depth had grown in the picture that it resembled a stage, with the students and their grim instructor standing forth as actors.

I was horrified, as I drew near, to find their eyes fixed upon me. I stopped at the foremost bench and seated myself. For some time then they gazed at me in silence, and I at them, until at last the professor whispered a word that turned them to their work.

Occasionally they spoke to each other in hollow voices that were distant-sounding and almost inaudible; once one of them bent forward and turned the page of a text-book lying at the feet of the dead man. My brain reeled and my eyes grew dim. A peculiar numbness was robbing my limbs of their life. I saw that the corpse was being removed, and the table made clear, and at the same time I felt myself being lifted!

Gently I was laid upon the table. A drowsy sensation embraced me, and I knew that soon I would be totally unconscious. Forcing my eyes open for an instant, for I had held them closed, I saw the instructor approaching my arm with his knife! As it touched my flesh, I screamed and tried to beat him back. Then a great sea of blackness welled over me, and enveloped my consciousness.

Next morning they found me lying there on the floor, at the foot of the picture, with my clothing sadly ruffled, and with a gash in my arm that ached severely. There have been many explanations advanced concerning my remarkable experience, but it still remains a mystery.

John R. Palmer

SHORTLY after the Civil War my husband was appointed to a Federal position in the capital city of one of the southern states. Owing to housing difficulties, we were obliged to rent the residence of the state prison warden, a bachelor, who reserved one room.

The old penitentiary house was a high, narrow, dingy brown structure overlooking the prison yard. From its left-hand upper windows one could see all that went on in the yard—including an occasional hanging. My shades were always drawn on those occasions.

One evening soon after our arrival, James and I sat in the rather pleasant living-room. I was knitting a gray shawl for Mother, and James was reading a pamphlet about the work of the freemen's aid.

Suddenly I felt the presence of someone back of my chair. involuntarily, I glanced toward James who was still deep in his reading. Hastily looking around, I was amazed to see a tall, black-robed nun passing into the next room.

My cry aroused James, who also perceived our visitor. We followed her quietly through several rooms to the kitchen door, through which she suddenly disappeared. Up to this point we had considered her an intruder; but the fact that both front and back doors were locked and she made her exit through the rear door without opening it amazed us.

That night I was aroused from my sleep by the sound of sawing; not a particularly alarming sound, even at that hour of the