Read Online Death from a Top Hat by Clayton Rawson - Free Book Online
Authors: Clayton Rawson
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corpse?”
“Yes,” Merlini answered, “Ross did the honors. But I knew him before, some ten years ago. He used to be rated tops as an anthropologist in the magic and primitive religion line. Then he dropped out of sight so suddenly and completely that I rather thought he must have gone to continue his other-world researches closer to their source.”
“What caused the sudden eclipse?” Gavigan asked interestedly.
“His subject ran away with him. He began taking such things as vampires, werewolves—and maybe pixies, for all I know—seriously. He even hung the traditional sword and sprigs of garlic on his door as a vampire preventive. Odd, because he looked a bit vampirish himself. There was a Lon Chaney-Boris Karloff feel to him. You almost expected him to bare a set of yellow fangs at any moment and say boo! Last time I talked with him, he was full of some new experiments in what he called modern alchemy.”
Merlini gestured toward the worktable and the bottle-laden shelves in the further corner of the room. “Still at it, evidently. Then he began writing books and articles that his scholarly colleagues couldn’t swallow. Lycanthropy Today and The Secret Heresies were two of the titles I remember. The latter book treated Telekinesis, Cryptesthesia, and Astral Projection as established facts. The editors of scientific journals began sending him rejection slips, and his scholarly reputation nosed over into a power dive.” 1
“But what about his disappearance? What did he do, start pouting and go hide?” Gavigan asked impatiently.
“He had a frightful temper, and he nearly killed an eminent German archeologist at a scientific congress by clubbing the poor man over the head with his own umbrella. He’d been trying to convince the old boy that Pyramidology was an exact science. The Herr Doktor swore out a warrant for his arrest and Sabbat skipped. No one ever seemed to know where.”
“Pyramidwhatsis wasn’t taught at Public School 67, as I remember. What is it?”
Merlini shucked his overcoat and dropped it with his hat on a near-by chair.
“It’s one of the fancier divination systems and is based upon certain measurements of the Great Pyramid of Cheops, notably those made in 1864 by Piazzi-Smyth, the Astronomer Royal of Scotland. The occultists say that this is the world’s oldest existing structure and was built 100,000 years ago by the Atlantaeans just prior to the sinking of their continent, as a repository of learning and a temple for the initiation of adepts. Similar temples are said to have been set up somewhere in the unexplored—oh, always the unexplored—portions of either Brazil or Yucatan—the authorities disagree—and in Tibet, where the Great White Lodge of the Himalayas is supposed to be today the one remaining active chapter of this ancient priesthood. 2 Their thesis is that if a pyramid inch—they invent their own inches—is taken as a year of our time, then the course of the Pyramid’s inner passageways predicts the course of world history and civilization. According to that science the world came to an end at 4 A.M. on September 16, 1936. Did you know?”
“Sabbat,” the Inspector broke in, finally, “was trying to convert the German professor to that theory?”
Merlini nodded.
“Well,” Gavigan said emphatically, “we know one thing then. He was as batty as they come. Which explains a lot of things in this room.” He scowled up at a Balinese devil mask on the wall, whose varnished fury, glistening in the light, showed that its owner had been a discriminating connoisseur of the hideous.
“There are people who would dispute that conclusion, Inspector. Even in this streamlined Twentieth Century there are plenty of people outside of nut houses who believe firmly in that sort of thing. Southern California is full of them. I could name you a dozen books issued quite lately by reputable publishing houses whose authors state their belief in all sorts of black magic, from
“Yes,” Merlini answered, “Ross did the honors. But I knew him before, some ten years ago. He used to be rated tops as an anthropologist in the magic and primitive religion line. Then he dropped out of sight so suddenly and completely that I rather thought he must have gone to continue his other-world researches closer to their source.”
“What caused the sudden eclipse?” Gavigan asked interestedly.
“His subject ran away with him. He began taking such things as vampires, werewolves—and maybe pixies, for all I know—seriously. He even hung the traditional sword and sprigs of garlic on his door as a vampire preventive. Odd, because he looked a bit vampirish himself. There was a Lon Chaney-Boris Karloff feel to him. You almost expected him to bare a set of yellow fangs at any moment and say boo! Last time I talked with him, he was full of some new experiments in what he called modern alchemy.”
Merlini gestured toward the worktable and the bottle-laden shelves in the further corner of the room. “Still at it, evidently. Then he began writing books and articles that his scholarly colleagues couldn’t swallow. Lycanthropy Today and The Secret Heresies were two of the titles I remember. The latter book treated Telekinesis, Cryptesthesia, and Astral Projection as established facts. The editors of scientific journals began sending him rejection slips, and his scholarly reputation nosed over into a power dive.” 1
“But what about his disappearance? What did he do, start pouting and go hide?” Gavigan asked impatiently.
“He had a frightful temper, and he nearly killed an eminent German archeologist at a scientific congress by clubbing the poor man over the head with his own umbrella. He’d been trying to convince the old boy that Pyramidology was an exact science. The Herr Doktor swore out a warrant for his arrest and Sabbat skipped. No one ever seemed to know where.”
“Pyramidwhatsis wasn’t taught at Public School 67, as I remember. What is it?”
Merlini shucked his overcoat and dropped it with his hat on a near-by chair.
“It’s one of the fancier divination systems and is based upon certain measurements of the Great Pyramid of Cheops, notably those made in 1864 by Piazzi-Smyth, the Astronomer Royal of Scotland. The occultists say that this is the world’s oldest existing structure and was built 100,000 years ago by the Atlantaeans just prior to the sinking of their continent, as a repository of learning and a temple for the initiation of adepts. Similar temples are said to have been set up somewhere in the unexplored—oh, always the unexplored—portions of either Brazil or Yucatan—the authorities disagree—and in Tibet, where the Great White Lodge of the Himalayas is supposed to be today the one remaining active chapter of this ancient priesthood. 2 Their thesis is that if a pyramid inch—they invent their own inches—is taken as a year of our time, then the course of the Pyramid’s inner passageways predicts the course of world history and civilization. According to that science the world came to an end at 4 A.M. on September 16, 1936. Did you know?”
“Sabbat,” the Inspector broke in, finally, “was trying to convert the German professor to that theory?”
Merlini nodded.
“Well,” Gavigan said emphatically, “we know one thing then. He was as batty as they come. Which explains a lot of things in this room.” He scowled up at a Balinese devil mask on the wall, whose varnished fury, glistening in the light, showed that its owner had been a discriminating connoisseur of the hideous.
“There are people who would dispute that conclusion, Inspector. Even in this streamlined Twentieth Century there are plenty of people outside of nut houses who believe firmly in that sort of thing. Southern California is full of them. I could name you a dozen books issued quite lately by reputable publishing houses whose authors state their belief in all sorts of black magic, from
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