Chapter 2

I first met Bob Masters in the hotel at a place called Fourteen Streams,
not very far from Kimberley.

I had for some months been trying to find gold or diamonds by digging
holes in the veldt. But since this has little or nothing to do with the
story, I pass by my mining adventures and come back to the hotel. I came
to it very readily that afternoon, for I was very thirsty.

A tall man standing at the bar turned his head as I entered and said
"Good-day" to me. I returned the compliment, but took no particular
notice of him at first.

Suddenly I heard the man say to the barman:

"I'm ready for another drink."

That surprised me, because his glass was still three-quarters full. But
I was still more startled by the action of the barman who lifted up the
glass and held it whilst the man drank.

Then I saw the reason. The man had no arms.

You know the easy way in which Englishmen chum together anywhere out of
England, whilst in their native country nothing save a formal
introduction will make them acquainted? I made some remark to Masters
which led to another from him, and in five minutes' time we were
chatting on all sorts of topics.

I learnt that Masters, bound for England, had come in to Fourteen
Streams to catch the train from Kimberley, and, having a few hours to
wait, had strolled up to the collection of tin huts calling itself a
town.

I was going down to Kimberley too, so of course we went together, and
were quite old friends by the time we reached that city.

We had a wash and something to eat, and then we walked round to the
post-office. I used to have my letters addressed there, _poste
restante_, and call in for them when I happened to be in Kimberley.

I found several letters, one of which altered the whole course of my
life. This was from Messrs. Harvey, Filson, and Harvey, solicitors,
Lincoln's Inn Fields. It informed me that the sudden death of my cousin
had so affected my uncle's health that he had followed his only son
within the month. The senior branch of the family being thus extinct the
whole of the entailed estate had devolved on me.

The first thing I did was to send off two cablegrams to say that I was
coming home by the first available boat, one to the solicitors, the
other to Nancy Milward.

Masters and I arranged to come home together and eventually reached Cape
Town. There we had considerable trouble at the shipping office. It was
just about the time of year when people who live in Africa to make
money, come over to England to spend it, and in consequence the boats
were very crowded. Masters demanded a cabin to himself, a luxury which
was not to be had, though there was one that he and I could share. He
made a tremendous fuss about doing this, and I thought it very strange,
because I had assisted him in many ways which his mutilation rendered
necessary. However, he had to give way in the end, and we embarked on
the Castle liner.

On the voyage he told me how he had lost his arms. It seemed that he had
been sent up country on some Government job or other, and had had the
ill-fortune to be captured by the natives. They treated him quite well
at first, but gave him to understand that he must not try to escape. I
suppose that to most men such a warning would be a direct incitement to
make the attempt. Masters made it and failed. They cut off his right arm
as a punishment. He waited until the wound was healed and tried again.
Again he failed. This time they cut off his other arm.

"Good Lord," I cried. "What devils!"

"Weren't they!" he said. "And yet, you know, they were quite
good-tempered chaps when you didn't cross them. I wasn't going to be
beaten by a lot of naked niggers though, and I made a third attempt.

"I succeeded all right that time, though, of course, it was much more
difficult. I really don't know at all how I managed to worry through.
You see, I could only eat plants and leaves and such fruit as I came
across; but I'd learnt as much as I could of the local botany in the
intervals."

"Was it worth while?" I asked. "I think the first failure and its result
would have satisfied me."

"Yes," he said slowly, "it was worth while. You see, my wife was waiting
for me at home, and I wanted to see her again very badly--you don't
know how badly."

"I think I can imagine," I said. "Because there is a girl waiting for me
too at home."

"I saw her before she died," he continued.

"Died?" I said.

"Yes," he answered. "She was dying when I reached home at last, but I
was with her at the end. That was something, wasn't it?"

I do hate people to tell me this sort of thing. Not because I do not
feel sorry for them; on the contrary, I feel so sorry that I absolutely
fail to find words to express my sympathy. I tried, however, to show it
in other ways, by the attentions I paid him and by anticipating his
every wish.

Yet there were many things that were astonishing about his actions,
things that I wonder now I did not realise must have been impossible for
him to do for himself, and that yet were done. But he was so
surprisingly dexterous with his lips, and feet too, when he was in his
cabin that I suppose I put them down to that.

I remember waking up one night and looking out of my bunk to see him
standing on the floor. The cabin was only faintly lit by a moonbeam
which found its way through the porthole. I could not see clearly, but I
fancied that he walked to the door and opened it, and closed it behind
him. He did it all very quickly, as quickly as I could have done it. As
I say, I was very sleepy, but the sight of the door opening and shutting
like that woke me thoroughly. Sitting up I shouted at him.

He heard me and opened the door again, easily, too, much more easily
than he seemed to be able to shut it when he saw me looking at him.

"Hullo! Awake, old chap?" he said. "What is it?"

"Er--nothing," I said. "Or rather I suppose I was only half awake; but
you seemed to open that door so easily that it quite startled me."

"One does not always like to let others see the shifts to which one has
to resort," was all the answer he gave me.

But I worried over it. The thing bothered me, because he had made no
attempt to explain.

That was not the only thing I noticed.

Two or three days later we were sitting together on deck. I had offered
to read to him. I noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly I
saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock, for the chair twisted
apparently of its own volition, so that when he sat down again the
sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes, as I knew it had been
previously. But I reasoned with myself and managed to satisfy myself
that he must have turned the chair round with his foot. It was just
possible that he could have done so, for it had one of those light
wicker-work seats.

We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters of the way, and the sea was as
calm as any duck-pond. But that was all altered when we passed Cape
Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking about on the ocean one way and
another, but I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation
better.

I'd much rather see what is going on than be cooped up below, and after
lunch I told Bob I was going up on deck.

"I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You make yourself comfortable
down here."

I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave him a match; then I
left him.

I made my way up and down the deck for a time, clutching hold of
everything handy, and rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched me to
the skin.

Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way and make his way
very skilfully towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous for him.

I staggered towards him, and, putting my lips to his ear, shouted to him
to go below at once.

"Oh, I shall be all right!" he said, and laughed.

"You'll be drowned--drowned," I screamed. "There was a wave just now
that--well, if I hadn't been able to cling on with both hands like grim
death, I should have gone overboard. Go below."

He laughed again and shook his head.

And then what I dreaded happened. A vast mountain of green water lifted
up its bulk and fell upon us in a ravening cataract. I clutched at
Masters, but trying to save him and myself handicapped me badly. The
strength of that mass of water was terrible. It seemed to snatch at
everything with giant hands, and drag all with it. It tossed a hen-coop
high, and carried it through the rails.

I felt the grip of my right hand loosen, and the next instant was
carried, still clutching Masters with my left, towards that gap in the
bulwark.

I managed to seize the end of the broken rail. It held us for a moment,
then gave, and for a moment I hung sheer over the vessel's side.

In that instant I felt fingers tighten on my arm, tighten till they bit
into the flesh, and I was pulled back into safety.

Together we staggered back, and got below somehow. I was trembling like
a leaf, and the sweat dripped from me. I almost screamed aloud.

It was not that I was frightened of death. I've seen too much of that in
many parts of the earth to dread it greatly. It was the thought of those
fingers tightening on me where no fingers were.

Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until we found ourselves in the
cabin.

I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my arm to the mirror. I knew I
could not have been mistaken when I felt them.

There on the upper arm, above the line of sunburn that one gets from
working with sleeves rolled up, there on the white skin showed _the red
marks of four slender fingers and a thumb_! I sat down suddenly at sight
of them, and pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat brandy, and
gulped it down, emptied it in one gulp.

Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks.

"In God's name, how came these here?" I said. "What--what happened up
there on deck?"

He looked at me very gravely.

"I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't, for I could not. But _she_
did."

"What do you mean?" I stammered.

"Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and some dry ones on; and I'll
tell you."

Words fail to describe my feelings as I watched the clothes come off him
and dry ones go on just as if hands were arranging them.

I sat and shuddered. I tried to close my eyes, but the weird, unnatural
sight drew them as a lodestone.

"I'm sorry that you should have had this shock," he said. "I know what
it must have been like, though it was not so bad for me when they seemed
to come, for they came gradually as time went on."

"What came gradually?" I asked.

"Why, these arms! They're what I'm telling you about. You asked me to
tell you, I thought?"

"Did I?" I said. "I don't know what I'm saying or asking. I think I'm
going mad, quite mad."

"No," he said, "you're as sane as I am, only when you come across
something strange, unique for that matter, you are naturally terrified.
Well, it was like this. I told you about my adventures with the niggers
up country. That was quite true. They cut off both my arms--you can see
the stumps for that matter. And I told you that I came home to find my
wife dying. Her heart had always been weak, I'd known that, and it had
gradually grown more feeble. There must have been, indeed there was, a
strange sort of telepathy between us. She had had fearful attacks of
heart failure on both occasions when the niggers had mutilated me, I
learnt on comparing notes.

"But I had known too, somehow, that I must escape at all costs. It was
the knowledge that made me try again after each failure. I should have
gone on trying to escape as long as I had lived, or rather as long as
she had lived. I knelt beside her bed and she put out her arms and laid
them round my neck.

"'So you have come back to me before I go,' she said. 'I knew you must,
because I called you so. But you have been long in coming, almost too
long. But I knew I had to see you again before I died.'

"I broke down then. I was sorely tried. No arms even to put round her!

"'Darling, stay with me for a little, only for a little while!' I
sobbed.

"She shook her head feebly. 'It is no use, my dear,' she said, 'I must
go.'

"'I'll come with you,' I said, 'I'll not live without you.'

"She shook her head again.

"'You must be brave, Bob. I shall be watching you afterwards just as
much as if I still lived on earth. If only I could give you my arms! A
poor, weak woman's arms, but better than none, dear.'

"She died some weeks later. I spent all the time at her bedside, I
hardly left her. Her arms were round me when she died. Shall I ever feel
them round me again? I wonder! You see, they are mine now.

"They came to me gradually. It was very strange at first to have arms
and hands which one couldn't see. I used to keep my eyes shut as much as
possible, and try to fancy that I had never lost my arms.

"I got used to them in time. But I have always been careful not to let
people see me do things that they would know to be impossible for an
armless man. That was what took me to Africa again, because I could get
lost there and do things for myself with these hands."

"'And they twain shall be one flesh,'" I muttered.

"Yes," he said, "I think the explanation must be something of that sort.
There's more than that in it, though; these arms are other than flesh."

He sat silent for a time with his head bowed on his chest. Then he spoke
again:

"I got sick of being alone at last, and was coming back when I met you
at Fourteen Streams. I don't know what I shall do when I do get home. I
can never rest. I have--what do they call it--_Wanderlust_?"

"Does she ever speak to you from that other world?" I asked him.

He shook his head sadly.

"No, never. But I know she lives somewhere beyond this world of ours.
She must, because these arms live. So I try always to act as if she
watches everything. I always try to do the right thing, but, anyway,
these arms and hands would do good of their own accord. Just now up on
the deck I was very frightened. I'd have saved myself at any cost
almost, and let you go. But I could not do that. The hands clutched you.
It is her will, so much stronger and purer than mine, that still
persists. It is only when she does not exert it that I control these
arms."

That was how I learnt the strangest tale that ever a man was told, and
knew the miracle to which I owed my life.

It may be that Bob Masters was a coward. He always said that he was.
Personally I do not believe it, for he had the sweetest nature I ever
met.

He had nowhere to go to in England and seemed to have no friends. So I
made him come down with me to Englehart, that dear old country seat of
my family in the Western shires which was now mine.

Nancy lived in that country, too.

There was no reason why we should not get married at once. We had waited
long enough.

I can see again the old, ivy-grown church where Nancy and I were wed,
and Bob Masters standing by my side as best man.

I remember feeling in his pocket for the ring, and as I did so, I felt a
hand grasp mine for a moment.

Then there was the reception afterwards, and speech-making--the usual
sort of thing.

Later Nancy and I drove off to the station.

We had not said good-bye to Bob, for he'd insisted on driving to the
station with the luggage; said he was going to see the last of us there.

He was waiting for us in the yard when we reached it, and walked with us
on to the platform.

We stood there chatting about one thing and another, when I noticed that
Nancy was not talking much and seemed rather pale. I was just going to
remark on it when we heard the whistle of the train. There is a sharp
curve in the permanent way outside the station, so that a train is on
you all of a sudden.

Suddenly to my horror I saw Nancy sway backwards towards the edge of the
platform. I tried vainly to catch her as she reeled and fell--right in
front of the oncoming train. I sprang forward to leap after her, but
hands grasped me and flung me back so violently that I fell down on the
platform.

It was Bob Masters who took the place that should have been mine, and
leapt upon the metals.

I could not see what happened then. The station-master says he saw Nancy
lifted from before the engine when it was right upon her. He says it was
as if she was lifted by the wind. She was quite close to Masters. "Near
enough for him to have lifted her, sir, if he'd had arms." The two of
them staggered for a moment, and together fell clear of the train.

Nancy was little the worse for the awful accident, bruised, of course,
but poor Masters was unconscious.

We carried him into the waiting-room, laid him on the cushions there,
and sent hot-foot for the doctor.

He was a good country practitioner, and, I suppose, knew the ordinary
routine of his work quite well. He fussed about, hummed and hawed a lot.

"Yes, yes," he said, as if he were trying to persuade himself. "Shock,
you know. He'll be better presently. Lucky, though, that he had no
arms."

I noticed then, for the first time, that the sleeves of the coat had
been shorn away.

"Doctor," I said, "how is he? Surely, if he isn't hurt he would not look
like that. What exactly do you mean by shock?"

"Hum--er," he hesitated, and applied his stethoscope to Masters' heart
again.

"The heart is very weak," he said at length. "Very weak. He's always
very anaemic, I suppose?"

"No," I answered. "He's anything but that. He's----Good Lord, he's
bleeding to death! Put ligatures on his arms. Put ligatures on his
arms."

"Please keep quiet, Mr. Riverston," the doctor said. "It must have been
a dreadful experience for you, and you are naturally very upset."

I raved and cursed at him. I think I should have struck him, but the
others held me. They said they would take me away if I did not keep
quiet.

Bob Masters opened his eyes presently, and saw them holding me.

"Please let him go," he said. "It's all right, old man. It's no use your
arguing with them, they would not understand. I could never explain to
them now, and they would never believe you. Besides, it's all for the
best. Yes, the train went over them and I'm armless for the second time.
But--not for long!"

I knelt by his side and sobbed. It all seemed so dreadful, and yet, I
don't think that then I would have tried to stay his passing. I knew it
was best for him.

He looked at me very affectionately.

"I'm so sorry that this should happen on your wedding-day," he said.
"But it would have been so much worse for you if _she_ had not helped."

His voice grew fainter and died away.

There was a pause for a time, and his breath came in great sighing sobs.

Then suddenly he raised himself on the cushions until he stood upright
on his feet, and a smile broke over his face--a smile so sweet that I
think the angels in Paradise must look like that.

His voice came strong and loud from his lips.

"Darling!" he cried. "Darling, your arms are round me once again! I
come! I come!"

* * * * *

"One of the most extraordinary cases I have ever met with," the doctor
told the coroner at the inquest. "He seemed to have all the symptoms of
excessive haemorrhage."