The Wrong Door - WC Morrow

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The wrong door. By w C Morrow. My condition at
last became alarming, and I was afraid of myself the
cause of it. Ah, that was something. Had it been
a matter which an honorable man might discuss with a friend,
I could have had the healing consolation of sympathy. But
at the very core of my affliction lay the obligation

(00:21):
of silence. Let us suppose a case. Once there was
a very beautiful woman, married happily and a mother. Her
husband had a friend, a man of the world. This
man discovered in his friend's wife an accumulation of all
womanly graces. He saw in her the ideal woman in
all the world, the only one he could have loved

(00:43):
and courted, thought for, and died for. Yet she was
wholly inaccessible, even in dreams. She was as good as
she was beautiful, as true as she was winsome. Even
had she not been so, his hands were tied by
loyalty to his friend. Some of you will laugh at that. Well,
If a man's honor fails him in one direction, I

(01:05):
will not trust it in another. For a man is
a whole remainder after subtracting all his evil from his good.
But the flesh is weak. That is the villain's only
plea for mercy. The friend could not conceal it from
his wife, could not. I must be careful in my
choice of words. Is there anything in the line of

(01:26):
right that a man cannot do in such a case?
The world is wide. He could have gone away, But
she was so beautiful and winsome. Nor, as he had
not declared himself, could she presume to send him away?
He thought he saw in her eyes something of pity,
something of warning, something of everything. The suffering wore him out.

(01:48):
But I must return to the beginning and resume my story.
I was much prostrated in mind and flesh, and the
services of a skillful physician were eminently needed. With that idea,
I went to see a famous man, doctor Brownell, a
specialist in matters of the nerves. It may be thought
a little peculiar that I went to consult this particular man,

(02:10):
but it must be considered that, besides being a very
skillful physician, he was my friend. There might have been
certain reasons why I should not consult him, but we
need not discuss them now. His wife was a beautiful woman,
and I knew her well. But what in the world
has this to do with my visit to her husband.
Brownell was a peculiar man. Though he was the best

(02:32):
friend I ever had. There was not a very close
intimacy between us, and yet I was nearer to him
than was any other of his friends. He was much
older than his wife. A kind heart, given force and
direction by great wealth, had been exercised by him in
my behalf, with so intelligent purpose that I was become
a man of little importance in the community. The physician

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lived in a fine old house of great size, not
all of it was occupied. He was a tireless collector
of curiosities, and had expended a fortune in that pursuit.
Few of these were ever shown to his friends, and
he never spoke of them, but kept them in out
of the way places in the great establishment. He was
a reticent man, and many feared him. But I saw

(03:19):
in him nothing but goodness and a marvelous skill. So
it was upon doctor Brownell that I called formerly as
a patient. His office was on the main floor of
the house, and consisted of two rooms, a handsomely fitted
reception room and back of it, one in which his
patients consulted him. Both were very large, although I had

(03:40):
called and visited very often at his house, I had
never been in his office before. When I entered, he
was just ready to go out, but he welcomed me
with his old time cordiality. Why I am glad to
see you, he said, taking my hand. This is the
first time you have honored my office with a call.
Come in and rest a while. You surely haven't come

(04:01):
to see me professionally. He looked closely at me as
he asked the question. Yes, I replied, I fear I
am in rather a bad way. His face showed much concern.
You do look a little shaken, said he removing one
of his gloves. Then he began in a deliberate fashion
to make a scientific inquiry into my case. Well, he

(04:24):
was occupied. Thus a messenger, all out of breath, arrived
to call him to a case of great urgency. Doctor Brownell,
seeing the need to hurry, asked me if I could
come as well on the following day. Of course, I
released him. He hurried away, saying, I am very sorry
to leave you, but it can't be helped. Step into
the house and see missus Brownell. I am sure she

(04:46):
will be glad to see you. Go through that door.
It is the nearest way. You will find the hall
a little dark, but go straight ahead and you will
be all right. Then he hurried away, and in a
moment was gone. I went to the door which I
understood him to have pointed out. It was in the
consultation room. I discovered that there were two doors close together.

(05:09):
I selected the left hand one. I turned the knob
and pulled the door open. The hole beyond appeared to
be quite dark, but I remembered what he had said
about that, and I felt safe. I stepped into the hall,
and instantly the door, which was a heavy affair made
of oak, closed upon me, pushing me out of its
way into the hall. Then I discovered that I was

(05:29):
in absolute darkness, although there was a bright day. Without
nevertheless recalling Brownell's instruction, I went ahead with much confidence. Suddenly,
to my infinite amazement, the ground seemed to open, and
I plunged headlong downward into a suffocating darkness at every instant,
striking cruelly upon hidden obstacles along the way. At last,

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after having taken what seemed to be a great flight,
I came heavily to a stone floor, where the darkness
was as dense as ever before I fell. Fright was
my first sensation, and indignation my next. For was it
not likely that Brownell had played some ugly trick upon me?
I sat perfectly still for a little while, doing much wondering.

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There was nowhere the smallest glimmer of light. The darkness
was ponderable and terrifying. With it was a silence so
vast that the ordinary roaring in my ears became an
obtrusive presence. A little reason at last found exercise in
my disordered faculties. I reflected that the abyss into which
I had fallen was an unguarded flight of stairs into

(06:36):
which I had walked in the darkness. A cautious hand
survey verified the belief, for there I lay at the
bottom of the stairs. A moment later I remembered that
I had noticed two doors, one beside the other. It
was very clear that I had made a mistake by
choosing a door leading to the cellar. It was then
no serious matter at all, and I laughed at myself

(06:56):
for my terror. All that was necessary was to ascend
the flowight, opened the door, and emerged by the other.
Without any waste of time. I went about putting this
plan into use. But when I had clambered up the
stairs and found the door, I discovered that I was
securely locked within this dismal place. There was no knob
on the inside at all. My first intention was to

(07:19):
get relief by knocking on the door, but there quickly
arose two reasons why I should not. No one was within,
And besides, even if I should summon attention, how could
I explain my ridiculous plight. My clothing had been torn
by my fall, and I knew, by the token of
a warm, sticky sensation about my face and neck that
I had been hurt and was bleeding freely. I was

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satisfied there must be some way of escape from the
cellar without alarming the household, And though my prison was
darker than night, I determined to exhaust this resource before
trying the other. Accordingly, I descended the stairs, and, by
keeping my hands on one of the walls, began to
creep forward with the careful guard upon the possibility of

(08:02):
another flight of stairs. Presently, I found a turn in
the passage and followed it on. Then I came to
a transverse passage, and was in doubt which way to turn. Meanwhile,
the darkness did not relax in the smallest way, and
absolute silence packed my environment. I turned to the right,
and in that direction, not far away, I saw an

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exceedingly thin line of light, which I surmised issued from
the bottom of a door. I went toward this and
was about to put my hand upon the door, when
it occurred to me that caution sometimes was a valuable exercise.
Thereupon I knelt and examined the line of light more closely,
and it was somewhat disheartening to discover that the light,

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instead of being white, was yellow. In other words, it
was gas light and not daylight, that shone beyond the door.
While thus I knelt, I thought I heard a certain
scurrying within. It was a sound not very unlike that
which I had heard in the dark passage, and which
I had mistaken for automatic aberrations of my hearing sense.

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Now the same sound gave me a certain depressing feeling
of insecurity, as though a malign mystery suited to this
uncanny place was preparing a grotesque and perhaps dangerous reception
for me. Should I abandon this enterprise and seek another door,
there was danger that I might not find this one again. Indeed,

(09:27):
was there anything to fear? Surely my conscience, I gently
pushed open the door. It did not open. I found
a key hole and peered through it. A curious large
hall seemed to be beyond lighted faintly, and I thought
I saw the shadowy form of a woman float across
the field of vision. Just above the keyhole, I found

(09:49):
a knob. I turned it, and instantly the door flew open,
pulling me violently with it. And before the instinctive movement
to seize upon a support and hold it securely permitted
me to take my grasp from the knob, I found
myself wholly at the mercy of unresisted gravitation, flying undoubtedly downward,
if reason is to be accepted, but in all other

(10:11):
directions as well, if my feelings had been the ground
of judgment. But this time, instead of falling upon a
cold stone floor, I alighted on a deliciously soft carpet
of the thickest and finest rugs. And for that matter,
the distance which I had fallen was in reality quite small.
Upon looking, I found myself in the strangest place it

(10:32):
was ever my fortune to see. But before I describe it,
I must say something in explanation of my unaccountable flight
through the air. The floor of this hall was sunk
a few feet below the level of the passage by
which I had approached, and down from the floor led
a flight of stone steps, which the pulling of the
door had made me to clear. As I fell, I

(10:52):
had thought that some one was concealed behind the door,
and pulled it open quickly when I turned the knob.
But upon looking I saw no one, And I must
believe that, for some reason which I shall not attempt
to explore, the conduct of the door was guided by
a powerful spring. There was no time for any intelligent
kind of thinking, for besides being in a large hall

(11:13):
of extraordinary appearance, I found myself in a company of
the most astonishing people. The walls were covered with curious
things from every corner of the world. The roof was
perforated with openings representing stars, animals, angels, demons, and other things.
These openings were covered with colored glass of every shade.

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And above all was the light, which shone through the
grotesque openings and filled the room with a soft yellow radiance.
The light was too faint for a fine definition of features,
and so I could not then have said that I
knew any of the persons present. They were all on
the opposite side of the room, and every one of
them was looking at me. Some were sitting, others standing,

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and all were upon an elevated platform which ran around
the room. This platform was raised not more than eight
inches above the floor. I scrambled to my feet and
looked around upon them, of course, expecting that I should
be spoken to. But not a word was said, and
not a movement was made. The whole circumstance was so extraordinary,

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and the silence and immovability of the assembled people so impressive,
that a strange tangling feeling, which all who have been
frightened know the nature of, crept up my face and
into my hair, and my heart beat with what seemed
to be so strong a torsional force that it twisted
a sharp pain out of its function. I made an

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essay of speech. This, I said. Indignation arising with the
emergence of courage may be a very amusing pastime for you,
but I have it that you are putting a very
gross indignity upon me. If doctor Brownnell is in this
distinguished company, I would like him to hear me say
that I resent being made the victim of this boyish
prank for the edification of spectators invited to enjoy my discomfiture,

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and that I propose, without any loss of time, to
give my resentment such form and character as will cause
it to have a disagreeable permanency. In his recollection, this
wide winged and rather silly threat might as well have
been spoken to the red dragons and green angels in
the ceiling, for not a word or movement did it illicit.

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I found it easy to speak, but my voice sounded
as though it had come from some one else to
me alone, and that made me uncertain that I had
spoken at all. But a quickening anger was straining its
leash within me, and I made no effort to control it.
A sense of outrage, shame, and indignation swept over me.
There were things I would not bear. At this moment,

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Brownell's individuality emerged from the dim shadows of the company,
and I walked straight up to him. He looked at
me steadily as I approached, the old, good natured, half
quizzical expression that I knew so well sitting upon his face.
I had approached him very near when an indefinable violent
sensation seized upon me and held me from further advance.

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Likely it was as much dread as terror. But whatever
it was, there I stood grown to the floor, staring
in dismay at this silent and motionless man with a
quizzical expression. Quite near me was an old man sitting
on a chair, his hand resting on a heavy stick.
I seized the stick and tried to wrench it from
his grasp, intending to brain Brownel with it. But think

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what must have been my horror to see the old
man's arm come away from his body with the stick,
the hand still retaining its hold. I threw the stick
away with a shudder and went up closer to Brownel.
I caught him by the shoulders and shook him with
such violence that his head rolled on the floor at
my feet. Then the truth burst through the envelope of

(14:50):
my vast and inconceivable stupidity. Not all stupidity, for another
affliction beset me. These were all wax figures. I had
stumbled in to one of those queer nooks in Brownell's house,
where some of his treasures were stored, and where in
these uncanny ways he enjoyed himself alone. The reaction from

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this discovery was peculiar. At first I laughed, but my
laughter became so loud and furious that I saw it
was hysteria, and then I had trouble to check it.
My head was splitting, and my throat was cracked and burning.
Pains of various kinds found employment in torturing me, and
they were pains to which I was in no wise accustomed. Therefore,

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it was necessary that I make haste to escape from
this almost unearthly place. The silence and apparent intelligent immobility
of the wax figures were more than depressing. I began
to fear, indeed, that after all they would take on
life and present some new form of suffering for my torture.
At the end of the hall was a wide door

(15:54):
draped with a portyard. From where I stood, I could
see the white satin of a woman's skirt just behind
the portyard on one side. Evidently, no light entered that
room except the weak diffused light of the demons and
angels in the room where I was standing, and hence
it was much darker beyond the portyards. But after looking around,

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I saw that if there was any escape except by
the way I had come. It must be through the
room in which stood the woman in satin. Yet I
feared to enter that room. The dim light, the woman
behind the portyard, it all looked mysterious and dread lurking.
It was evident that the woman stood, as did the others,

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on a platform, But was that sufficient upon which to
construct a belief that she too was wax? And would
it not be all the better if she were flesh
and blood? Assuredly, for that meant deliverance, I went, without
further thinking to the portyard and passed within the room,
having an unaccountable care that I did not pass too

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near the woman in satin. I went into the room
and looked around for a door. None could I find.
My gaze fell upon the woman whose skirt I had seen,
and then came upon me the very heaviest blow of
all in that day of miseries. For there before me,
beautiful and radiant embodiment of all the finest graces of womankind,

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unspeakably winsome, and in all possible ways, the loveliest woman
under the sun stood the physician's wife. If only it
had been she, Indeed, instead of an artful wax counterfeit.
I stood and admired her to my heart's content. And
then I looked another way and continued my search for
the door. In what way soever I turned, I felt

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that the soft blue eyes of this enchanting figure were
upon me. This gave me a certain fear, the meaning
of which, beyond a consciousness of extreme nervous irritation, I
was not able to understand. My disorder began to take
on an exhilaration, much like that which comes from hashish,
imparting a quickening power to my senses and a keen

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edge to my imagination. A feeling of happy confidence and
lively enthusiasm struck off the angles of the fear which
formerly had depressed me, and I became bold, valiant, and adventurous.
What an inspiring effect even the wax image of a
beautiful woman may have on a man. I again looked
at the figure in satin. Could I have been in error?

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Was it possible that a wax figure could be caught
stealing a quick glance at me and suppressing a delicious smile?
Was this a new Galatia ready to step from her
pedestal and be my devoted slave, A great hope, so
wild that I dared not give it too generous entertainment
leaped up from my heart. Fool or madman, which was I.

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Though the whole world might be consumed with love of her,
she would remain steadfast in the way of a wife forever.
It was wholly impossible that she should choose this astounding
way of letting me know that the one secret of
my life had slipped away from me and had been
welcomed into her own life. I gazed upon her, filled
with awe. Her head slowly turned, her glorious eyes rested

(19:12):
full upon my face, and the sweetest smile that I
had ever seen on her beautiful face saturated all my
sensibilities with inconceivable delights. There was a meaning in that
look and smile that I had never seen before, and
the light that shone through it was a welcome to me.
I went closer to her, my feet winged with joy.

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The smile beckoned, the glance was a reassurance. Alice, I cried,
I have waited for you long, she answered, and there
can be no music on earth so sweet as those words.
I caught her in my arms and drew her to
my breast, nearly crushing her. I looked up into her face,

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and she looked down into mine. I drew her from
the pedestal all at once. A look of horror came
into her face. You are bloody, she cried. It is nothing,
I protested. The look of horror became one of terror. Oh,
she said, there is blood on your face and villainy

(20:14):
in your heart. So this is how you would betray
your best friend and wreck my life. I will save
him and you With that. I saw something bright and
keen glitter a moment in her hand, and in an instant,
a thing cold and sharp slipped between the ribs of
my breast. I choked. A blindness assailed me, and I

(20:34):
felt myself going all at large to the floor. Doctor
Brownell was sitting beside me in a room of his house,
and I was lying in bed with a feeling of
great weakness. He saw that I was watching him. He
arose and stood over me, and his face showed much relief.

(20:55):
You are all right, now, aren't you, old fellow? How
kind his voice was. Yes, I felt no pain in
my breast, but feebly I put up my hand. Is
the wound dangerous? I asked? What wound. I made no reply.
The only wound you had was a slight abrasion of

(21:16):
the scalp, and that has been cured a week. I
dared not ask any more questions. Alice came in to
see you this morning and left these flowers for you.
I told her I thought you would be all right
to day, and she will come to see you as
soon as I send her word. By the way, old man,
that was a curious mistake you made in getting among

(21:37):
my wax figures. We found you unconscious there in your delirium.
You must have developed a strong dislike of the figures
of Alice and Me, as you completely demolished them. End
of the Wrong Door by W. C. Morrow