The Mystery of M. FelixFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
The Mystery of M. Felix
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 19th century
about to do. At a little distance from me, between me and the fire, he
drew upon the floor a smaller circle with his piece of billiard chalk,
and within it placed a trinket or two of his own. I handed him my gold
watch and chain, my diamond ring, my pearl and ruby pin, and a
valuable charm of gold which I kept in my pocket for luck. These he
placed with his own trinkets within the smaller circle, and said that
now no harm could befall me. The objects in the room went round more
and more as he muttered some cabalistic words, and to prevent myself
from being overcome by terror I took some more brandy. Then he threw
about half a dozen little packets of powder into the fire, one after
another, and all sorts of colors appeared, and filled the room with a
peculiar smell, which so affected me that I helped myself to brandy. I
must not forget to mention that he had locked the door and put the key
in his pocket. "If what I am doing alarms you," he said, "you may
close your eyes. You have great courage, and to prove my friendship
for you I shall present you with half the profits of my invention." I
tried to thank him, but to my surprise my words were not very clearly
spoken. Presently my eyes began to close, and I fell asleep. When I
awoke the room was in darkness. I called to my friend, but he did not
answer me. Fearful lest he himself should have fallen a victim to his
hazardous experiments, I rose unsteadily to my feet and felt around
till my hands reached the door, which, of course, was locked. Luckily
I had in my pocket a box of matches, and striking one I lit the
candle. My friend was gone; I was alone in the room; but upon the
floor was a small heap of ashes. Not only was my poor friend gone, but
all his trinkets as well as my own were also gone. But there upon the
floor was the fatal heap of ashes. I could arrive at but one
conclusion, namely, that the combustion which was the kernel of his
great invention had reduced him to ashes and destroyed him. There
could be no other explanation of the extraordinary occurrence, because
the door was still locked. Fearful lest I might be accused of his
death, I forced the door open and fled, and from that day to this the
affair has remained wrapped in mystery. This is the first time I have
mentioned it, and I do so now in the interests of justice, lest some
unfortunate person should be accused, as I might have been in the case
of my friend, of spiriting M. Felix away. May not his disappearance be
set down to combustion? Are there any charred marks upon the floor of
the room where his body lay? Were any ashes left? Was he given to
dangerous experiments? My own experiences may lead you, sir, to the
proper solution of the mystery which hangs around his fate. I shall
follow the further developments of the case of M. Felix with interest,
and am, Yours, etc.'
"Another correspondent wrote:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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