Montezuma's Castle, and Other Weird TalesCory, Charles B. (Charles Barney)
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Montezuma's Castle, and Other Weird Tales
Cory, Charles B. (Charles Barney)
Fiction; Short stories, American
"Well," continued the doctor, "among his effects they found a package
addressed to me, which contained a letter and a silver coin. The coin
you now hold in your hand, the letter I have here in my desk."
He opened a drawer and took out a large yellow envelope containing a
number of pages of closely written manuscript.
"This letter," said Watson, as he slowly turned over the pages,
"contains a story so strange that I did not for a moment believe it had
any foundation in fact; but during the past year or two I have learned
certain things which have caused me to change my opinion. Whether the
story is true or not we will, of course, never know, but I _now_ believe
that it is a true record of events which actually happened. I have made
some inquiries and find that the places mentioned do exist, or did at
the time this story was written, and--but never mind; I will read you
the letter and you can form your own conclusions:
"'DR. S. T. WATSON:
"'DEAR SIR: I have made up my mind to kill myself, but before I die I
wish to make a confession of my wrong doings, as _he_ insists that I
shall and I dare not disobey him. I therefore write this confession, to
be read by you after I am dead.
"'You tell me I _imagine_ I hear the voice and see the man. I tell you,
doctor, you who think me crazy are the one who is deceived. You do not
believe in telepathy and thought-transference, and yet I could tell many
times when you looked at me of what you were thinking. I tell you that I
hear Jim's voice as plainly as I ever heard yours, and he talks to me
and tells me that he will never leave me while I live, and then he
laughs. Oh, that laugh! He comes often at night and wakes me out of a
sound sleep with that awful laugh, and then he whispers to me to go to
sleep again. Of course you do not believe in spirits or ghosts, and you
believe I am crazy, and that the half-invisible form of my dead partner
which comes to me and talks to me, and whose voice I hear as plainly as
I ever heard yours, exists wholly in my imagination. Well, doctor, you
have been kind to me, and I hope and pray you will never suffer the way
I have suffered during the past three years.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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