chapter4_page-53-67

4. Keeping His Promise by Algernon Blackwood

It was eleven o 'clock at night, and young Marriott was in his room studying. He was a fourth -year

medical student at Edinburgh University, and he had a very important exam. If he failed,

his parents would not send him money any longer. His rooms were cheap, and he spent most of

the money on school fees. Marriott had to pass the examination. His friends knew he was

studying hard and had promised not to disturb him at night. That's why he was surprised

when he heard the doorbell ring. The landlady went to bed at ten o 'clock, and would not

answer the doorbell, so Marriott got up. The streets of Edinburgh Town were very quiet

at this late hour. As he walked out of his room on the third floor, the bell rang for

the second time. This annoyed Marriott more. He pressed the button and unlocked the front

door of the building, and went into the hallway to meet the guest. Who was this thoughtless

person that visited at this hour and disturbed him? All my friends know that I'm studying

for this exam. Why did they come to disturb me at such a late hour? Medical students, general

students, and poor writers lived in the building. The stairs were stone and poorly lit at each

floor by a gas lamp. Marriott stood by his open door, waiting with his book in his hand.

He heard the footsteps of the person clearly. The sound of the boots was close and loud. But

the man did not appear. Marriott wondered who it could be. The steps sounded almost under

his nose, but he could not see anyone. Suddenly, Marriott felt a strange fear. He felt faint

and cold, but the feeling disappeared immediately. Then the man turned the corner very slowly and

came into view. It was a stranger. He was quite young, short, and very broad. His face was

a color of a piece of chalk, and the eyes, which were very bright, had heavy lines under

them. The face was unshaven, and the general appearance was untidy. But Marriott could see

that the man was a gentleman, because he was well dressed, and he moved like a gentleman.

But something was very strange. The man did not wear a hat, or have won his hand, although

it had been raining all evening. He had no coat or an umbrella. Marriott had many questions

to ask the man, like, who are you, and what did you come to me for? Then the man turned

his head. The gas light in the hall showed his face clearly now. Marriott knew him right

away. Field? Is it you, he shouted?

Marriott had gone to school with Field years ago. He had not seen the man after that, but

their families lived near each other, and their sisters were good friends. He had heard

that Field had lost his way later and led a bad life. People had said that his father,

who was a nobleman, would not permit it for long. Marriott guessed that this had happened,

and Field's father had thrown him out of the house.

Marriott's anger disappeared at once. Come in, he said. Something's wrong, I can see. Come in and

tell me all about it, and perhaps I can help. Marriott's life was full of books and imagination,

and he did not know much about the dark side of life, but he had a man's heart.

He showed Field to his room and shut the front door. He noticed that Field was unsteady on his

legs and very tired. Marriott was a medical student, so he knew the signs of starvation.

Field looked like a starving man.

Come in, he said cheerfully.

I'm glad to see you. I was going to have something to eat. Please join me.

Field did not reply. He tried to stay on his feet.

Marriott took his arm to help him. He noticed for the first time that his clothes were too big and

loose for him. He was as thin as a skeleton. But, as he touched him,

Marriott had the feeling of faintness and anxiety again.

The feeling lasted a moment, and then disappeared.

Let me help you. It's very dark in this hall, he said. He noticed that his friend really needed

the help. He led him to the sofa. Where has he come from, and how has he found my address, he thought?

It had been at least seven years since they were close friends at school.

Now, give me a minute, and I'll prepare supper, he said. And don't talk,

just relax on the sofa, I see you're very tired. You can tell me about it later, and we'll make plans.

Field sat down on the sofa and stared in silence.

Marriott got out the brown bread, scones, and the pot of marmalade. He looked at his friend.

He did not look well. It would be unkind to ask him questions,

and he was clearly too tired to speak.

So, Marriott let his friend rest while he prepared the supper. He moved the table

towards the sofa so that his friend did not need to move.

Now let's eat, he said, and afterwards we'll have some coffee in a chat.

I'm studying for an exam, you know, and I always have some coffee at night.

He looked up and saw his friend's eyes looking straight into his own.

Suddenly, he shook from head to foot. His friend's face was deadly white and had a terrible

look of pain and suffering. As he was preparing the food, Marriott watched his friend and noticed

something. Field's coat was covered in dust, and on one shoulder there was a bit of cobweb.

The coat was completely dry. It had been raining all night, and Field had arrived

without a hat, umbrella, or coat, but he was perfectly dry, even dusty.

How was this possible? Had he been undercover? Had he been hiding in the building?

It was very strange, but he did not speak. Marriott had decided not to ask any questions

until his friend had eaten and slapped. Food and sleep were what the poor man needed most.

They ate their supper together. Marriott talked about himself and his exams,

while his guest ate hungrily. Marriott watched him with surprise.

The hungry man ate the scones and the bread with marmalade. He ate like a starved animal.

But Field seemed to be very sleepy. His head dropped as he was eating his food,

and Marriott had to shake him and wake him up. At last the food was finished.

I'm sorry I don't have much to offer you, said Marriott. Field still did not answer because he

was almost asleep. He looked up tiredly and thankfully. Now you must get some sleep, said Marriott.

I will be studying all night. You can sleep in my bed. Tomorrow we'll have a late breakfast and make

plans. Field kept silent. Marriott took him into the bedroom. He apologized for the size of the room.

The tired guest held his friend's arm and tried to stay on his feet. He went to the bed and dropped

onto it with his clothes on. In less than a minute he was asleep. Marriott stood at the door and watched

him for several minutes. He thought about what to do with his guest in the morning. Then he remembered

his exam and went back to his books. He sat down at his desk. When it was difficult to concentrate

on the subject, he kept thinking about that white -faced, strange -eyed man, starved and dirty,

who was sleeping in his clothes and boots on the bed. He remembered their school days together.

He remembered that they had promised to stay friends forever, and now his friend was in a terrible

situation. But Marriott had completely forgotten one of the promises that they had made.

The bedroom was next to the sitting room. Through the half -open door,

Marriott heard the sound of deep, slow breathing. It was the breathing of a very tired man.

He needed it, he thought. Outside there was a cold, loud wind and rain.

As he read his book, he could hear the deep breathing of the sleeper in the next room.

A couple of hours later, Marriott yawned and changed his books. He could still hear the breathing

and went quietly to the door to look at his friend. It was very dark, and at first he could

only see the shape of the furniture. He saw the chest of drawers by the wall and the bath in the

center of the room. Then, slowly, he was able to see the bed.

And slowly, the shape of the sleeping body appeared on the bed.

Marriott smiled. Field was still lying in the same position and had not moved. He watched him

for a moment and then returned to his books. The night was windy and rainy. There was no sound

of traffic, no sound of horse carriages on the stone roads.

Marriott continued to study and only stopped to change a book or to drink some coffee to stay

awake. He could still hear Field's breathing in the next room. Outside, the storm continued,

but inside the house it was all very quiet. The reading lamp threw light on the desk,

but the other end of the room was dark. The bedroom door was exactly opposite where

Marriott sat. There was nothing to disturb him.

Only there was a pain in his left arm. He could not explain the reason for the pain.

It disturbed him, and he could not remember how and when he had hurt his arm.

Finally, morning came, and he heard the sounds of wheels on the street below.

It was four o 'clock. Marriott stretched and yawned. Then he drew back the curtains.

The storm had gone and it was now foggy. He wanted to sleep on the sofa for a few hours

until breakfast. Field was still breathing heavily in the next room. He went quietly to the bedroom

to look at him again. He stood at the half -open door and looked in. He saw the bed clearly in

the gray light morning. He stared hard. Then he rubbed his eyes. Then he rubbed his eyes again.

He stared harder and harder. The room was empty.

Suddenly he felt the same fear he had felt when Field first came, but this time it was much greater.

He also realized that his left arm was hurting badly. He stood there trying to think his own body

was shaking. With a great effort, he went into the room. On the bed where Field had slept,

he saw the imprint of a body. There was the mark of the head on the pillow,

and an imprint at the foot of the bed where the boots had been. And when he got closer,

he saw that there was the breathing. Marriott tried to keep calm. It was very difficult to do,

but he called his friend aloud by name. Field, is that you? Where are you?

There was no answer, but the breathing continued. It came directly from the bed.

Marriott went down on his knees and examined the bed. He took away the bed coverings and the sheets

and pulled off the mattress. The sounds continued, but there was no sign of Field.

There was no space for a human being to hide. He pulled the bed away from the wall,

but the sounds stayed at the same spot. He did not move with the bed.

Marriott began searching the room. He looked inside the cupboard, the chest of drawers,

the closet, everywhere, but there was no sign of anyone. The small window was closed,

and it was not even large enough for a cat to pass. Marriott had strange thoughts.

He grew more and more nervous. He searched the bed again,

and he searched both rooms, and then he searched again. He was cold and sweating.

The sound of heavy breathing never stopped coming from the corner where Field had slept.

Then he tried something else. He pushed the bed back into his original position.

Then he lied down on it. The breathing was very close beside him, almost on his cheek,

and between him and the wall. He jumped up immediately. He went back into the sitting room

and opened the windows for some fresh air. He tried to think. He knew that people who read too

much and slept too little sometimes had hallucinations. He tried to stay calm. He thought about the

previous night. He thought about every detail, his feelings, and the meal. It was not a hallucination.

He thought about his strange fear and the terrible pain in his arm. He could not explain these.

And then, suddenly, he realized something. During the whole time, Field had not said a single word,

but he could still hear the sound of the breathing from the bedroom. It was unbelievable.

Marriott thought he was going crazy, so he decided to go out and take a walk.

He put on his hat and coat and left the house. He needed the fresh air and the smell of the sea.

He walked around on the wet streets for two hours. He was feeling a little better,

and he was hungry, so he returned home. He opened the door and went into his room,

and he saw a man who was standing by the window. It was his friend Green. Green was also a medical

student. He had been studying for the same examination.

I studied all night, Marriott, he said. I came in here to chat and have breakfast,

but you were out early. Marriott said he had a headache and had taken a walk.

Then the landlady came, placed their breakfast on the table, and left.

I didn't know you had a guest, Marriott, said Green. It sounds like someone is sleeping in there.

He pointed at the bedroom. Then you hear it, too. Thank God,

said Marriott. Of course I hear it. The door is open.

Oh, I feel much better, said Marriott. I thought I was going crazy, you know,

sounds and visions and hallucinations.

What are you talking about? Asked Green.

Now listen to me, Green, said Marriott. He tried to be calm. I'll tell you everything.

So he told Green everything that had happened in the night.

He told him about the pain in his arm, too.

You hear the breathing, don't you? He asked.

Green said he did. Well, come with me, and we'll search the room together.

But Green did not move from his chair.

I've been in there already. Green said guiltily.

Before you came, I heard the sounds, and I thought it was you.

The door was half open, so I went in.

Marriott did not say anything. He opened the door wide.

The sound of breathing grew more and more clear.

Someone must be in there, said Green quietly.

Someone is in there, but where, said Marriott.

He asked his friend to go in with him, but Green said that he would not go in there again.

They shut the door and went into the other room to talk.

Green asked Marriott many questions, but they still could not find an explanation.

The only thing that we may explain is the pain of my arms in Marriott.

The pain is terrible. It hurts all the way up, but I can't remember when or how I heard it.

Let me examine it, said Green. I am very good at bones, but the teachers don't think so,

he said jokingly.

Marriott took his coat off and rolled up his sleeve.

Oh my god, I'm bleeding, he said.

Look at this. What is this?

There was a thin red line in his wrist.

There was a small drop of fresh blood on it.

Green looked closely.

You've scratched yourself without knowing it, he said.

Marriott stared silently at him. He did not move.

What's the matter? It's a normal scratch, said Green.

It was your cufflinks, probably.

But Marriott's face was now white, and he was sweating.

He tried to speak.

Look, he said in a low voice.

His voice was shaking.

Do you see that red mark?

The mark under the scratch.

Yes, I see something.

Marriott wiped the place with his handkerchief.

Look again, more closely.

Yes, I see, said Green. It looks like an old scar.

It is an old scar, whispered Marriott.

His lips were shaking. I remember now.

Remember what, asked Green.

He was worried about his friend.

Field made that scar, said Marriott.

For a minute, the two men looked each other without speaking.

Field made that scar, repeated Marriott in a louder voice.

Field? You mean he made it last night?

No, not last night. He made it years ago, at school,

and I made a scar in his arm with mine.

We exchanged drops of blood in each other's cuts.

He put a drop into my arm, and I put one into his.

But why?

It was a boy's agreement.

We made a promise.

I remember it all clearly now.

We had read a book about it.

We promised each other that whoever died first

would show himself to the other.

And then we gave each other blood.

I remember it all so well.

It was a hot summer afternoon.

Seven years ago, we were in the playground.

I had forgotten about it until today.

And you mean, said Greene slowly.

But Marriott made no answer.

He got up, went to the sofa, and laid down.

He was exhausted. He fell asleep.

Greene was a little puzzled.

He thought about things for some time.

Suddenly, an idea came to him.

He went to Marriott and woke him up.

Marriott, being upset about it, is not going to help you, he said.

But it frightens me so much, Marriott said quietly.

And that poor man.

What if it is true that he has kept his promise?

That's all.

Marriott nodded.

But there is only one thing Greene went on.

Are you sure that he really ate like that?

I mean, did he really eat anything?

We can check that easily, Marriott said quietly.

After the meal, I put the things away.

They're on the third shelf in the cupboard.

Greene went to the cupboard to look.

Of course, he said.

Just as I thought.

It was partly hallucination.

The food is still here.

Come and see for yourself.

They examined the shelf together.

The brown loaf of bread and the scones were all untouched.

Field ate and drank nothing, said Greene.

He was not there at all.

But the breathing, asked Marriott in a low voice.

He was confused.

Greene did not answer.

He walked to the bedroom, opened the door and listened.

The sound of deep breathing was still there.

There was no hallucination about that.

Greene closed the door and came back.

There is only one thing to do, he said.

Write a letter to your sister and ask her about field.

And meanwhile, come and study in my rooms.

I've got an extra bed.

I agree, said Marriott.

I must pass that exam.

A week later, Marriott got an answer from his sister.

He read it to Greene.

It is very strange that in your letter, you asked about field.

It is terrible, but a short time ago,

Sir John threw him out of the house without a penny.

Well, what do you think?

He has killed himself.

At least it looks like suicide.

He did not leave the house,

but he went down into the cellar and starved himself to death.

They're trying to keep it a secret, of course,

but I heard it from my maid, who heard it from their footmen.

They found the body on the 14th,

and the doctor said he had died about 12 hours before.

He was extremely thin.

So he died on the 13th, said Greene.

Marriott shook his head.

That's the night he came to see you.

Marriott shook his head again.