The Slayer of Souls. Chambers Robert William

The Slayer of Souls - Chambers Robert William


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they had reached the street and he had called a taxi.

      On their way to his apartment he re-opened the subject rather bluntly, remarking that life was not worth living at the price she had mentioned.

      "That is the accepted Christian theory," she replied coolly, "but circumstances alter things."

      "Not such things."

      "Oh, yes, they do. If one is already damned, what difference does anything else make?"

      He asked, sarcastically, whether she considered herself already damned.

      She did not reply for a few moments, then she said, in a quick, breathless way, that souls have been entrapped through ignorance of evil. And asked him if he did not believe it.

      "No," he said, "I don't."

      She shook her head. "You couldn't understand," she said. "But I've made up my mind to one thing; even if my soul has perished, my body shall not die for a long, long time. I mean to live," she added. "I shall not let my body be slain! They shall not steal life from me, whatever they have done to my soul – "

      "What in heaven's name are you talking about?" he exclaimed. "Do you actually believe in soul-snatchers and life-stealers?"

      She seemed sullen, her profile turned to him, her eyes on the brilliantly lighted avenue up which they were speeding. After a while: "I'd rather live decently and respectably if I can," she said. "That is the natural desire of any girl, I suppose. But if I can't, nevertheless I shall beat off death at any cost. And whatever the price of life is, I shall pay it. Because I am absolutely determined to go on living. And if I can't provide the means I'll have to let some man do it, I suppose."

      "It's a good thing it was I who found you when you were out of a job," he remarked coldly.

      "I hope so," she said. "Even in the beginning I didn't really believe you meant to be impertinent" – a tragic smile touched her lips – "and I was almost sorry – "

      "Are you quite crazy?" he demanded.

      "No, my mind is untouched. It's my soul that's gone… Do you know I was very hungry when you spoke to me? The management wouldn't advance anything, and my last money went for my room… Last Monday I had three dollars to face the future – and no job. I spent the last of it to-night on violets, orange juice and cakes. My furs and my gold bag remain. I can go two months more on them. Then it's a job or – ." She shrugged and buried her nose in her violets.

      "Suppose I advance you a month's salary?" he said.

      "What am I to do for it?"

      The taxi stopped at a florist's on the corner of Madison Avenue and 58th Street. Overhead were apartments. There was no elevator – merely the street door to unlock and four dim flights of stairs rising steeply to the top.

      He lived on the top floor. As they paused before his door in the dim corridor:

      "Are you afraid?" he asked.

      She came nearer, laid a hand on his arm:

      "Are you afraid?"

      He stood silent, the latch-key in his hand.

      "I'm not afraid of myself – if that is what you mean," he said.

      "That is partly what I mean … you'll have to mount guard over your soul."

      "I'll look out for my soul," he retorted dryly.

      "Do so. I lost mine. I – I would not wish any harm to yours through our companionship."

      "Don't you worry about my soul," he remarked, fitting the key to the lock. But again her hand fell on his wrist:

      "Wait. I can't – can't help warning you. Neither your soul nor your body are safe if – if you ever do make of me a companion. I've got to tell you this!"

      "What are you talking about?" he demanded bluntly.

      "Because you have been courteous – considerate – and you don't know – oh, you don't realise what spiritual peril is! – What your soul and body have to fear if you – if you win me over – if you ever manage to make of me a friend!"

      He said: "People follow and threaten you. We know that. I understand also that association with you involves me, and that I shall no doubt be menaced with bodily harm."

      He laid his hand on hers where it still rested on his sleeves:

      "But that's my business, Miss Norne," he added with a smile. "So, otherwise, it being merely a plain business affair between you and me, I think I may also venture my immortal soul alone with you in my room."

      The girl flushed darkly.

      "You have misunderstood," she said.

      He looked at her coolly, intently; and arrived at no conclusion. Young, very lovely, confessedly without moral principle, he still could not believe her actually depraved. "What did you mean?" he said bluntly.

      "In companionship with the lost, one might lose one's way – unawares… Do you know that there is an Evil loose in the world which is bent upon conquest by obtaining control of men's minds?"

      "No," he replied, amused.

      "And that, through the capture of men's minds and souls the destruction of civilisation is being planned?"

      "Is that what you learned in your captivity, Miss Norne?"

      "You do not believe me."

      "I believe your terrible experiences in China have shaken you to your tragic little soul. Horror and grief and loneliness have left scars on tender, impressionable youth. They would have slain maturity – broken it, crushed it. But youth is flexible, pliable, and bends – gives way under pressure. Scars become slowly effaced. It shall be so with you. You will learn to understand that nothing really can harm the soul."

      For a few moments' silence they stood facing each other on the dim landing outside his locked door.

      "Nothing can slay our souls," he repeated in a grave voice. "I do not believe you really ever have done anything to wound even your self-respect. I do not believe you are capable of it, or ever have been, or ever will be. But somebody has deeply wounded you, spiritually, and has wounded your mind to persuade you that your soul is no longer in God's keeping. For that is a lie!"

      He saw her features working with poignant emotions as though struggling to believe him.

      "Souls are never lost," he said. "Ungoverned passions of every sort merely cripple them for a space. God always heals them in the end."

      He laid his hand on the door-knob once more and lifted the latch-key.

      "Don't!" she whispered, catching his hand again, "if there should be somebody in there waiting for us!"

      "There is not a soul in my rooms. My servant sleeps out."

      "There is somebody there!" she said, trembling.

      "Nobody, Miss Norne. Will you come in with me?"

      "I don't dare – "

      "Why?"

      "You and I alone together – no! oh, please – please! I am afraid!"

      "Of what?"

      "Of – giving you – my c-confidence – and trust – and – and f-friendship."

      "I want you to."

      "I must not! It would destroy us both, soul and body!"

      "I tell you," he said, impatiently, "that there is no destruction of the soul – and it's a clean comradeship anyway – a fighting friendship I ask of you —all I ask; all I offer! Wherein, then, lies this peril in being alone together?"

      "Because I am finding it in my heart to believe in you, trust you, hold fast to your strength and protection. And if I give way – yield – and if I make you a promise – and if there is anybody in that room to see us and hear us – then we shall be destroyed, both of us, soul and body – "

      He took her hands, held them until their trembling ceased.

      "I'll answer for our bodies. Let God look after


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