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Fantasy Commentator, v. 1, issue 5, Winter 1944-1945

Page 82

82
FANTASY COMMENTATOR

the paper. Furthur inexplicable phenomena occur, and finally a passer-by one day notices a man's form lying on the rocks near the house; it is that of the unlucky occupant,

...horribly mangled and broken. There was not a whole bone in his body;...his clothes had been torn to ribbons; and on his chest and back were fearful rents that appeared to have been made by the claws of a gigantic bird of prey. But what bird has feet eight inches across?

Wintle's use of the scorched footprint is interesting indeed. The conception of a foot- or hand-print of blood is of course familiar even to the casual follower of outre fiction; it has its roots in ancient folk-legends, and has been utilized by various Gothic novelists of this genre, as well as by Hawthorne in the last century. But as far as I know, Wintle is the first to employ this pleasant new variation.

The reader encounters it twice more in the volume, in "The Horror of Horton House" and "The Chamber of Doom." The former story is about a frightful psychic entity whose coming has been predicted by an ancient inscription above the fireplace of the mansion. The sliding panel to a secret passage in the room is frequently found open when no one could possibly have touched it, and upon the panel are marks of a burning hand, scorched into the wood. An odor of burning is from time to time noticed in the house, and within the secret passage is once seen a long hand with claw-like fingers, afire with evil little blue flames, which lingers a moment then disappears. Wishing to unravel this strange mystery, the owner of the house determines to investigate the secret passage which is its apparent source; but he is destined never to discover the solution, for when servants next look into the passage they are met with a malevolent odor---and on the floor is a heap of calcined bones.

"The Chamber of Doom," which also utilizes a similar motif, is one of the finest stories in the collection. In Glenmorris Castle is a walled-up room, known as the Chamber of Doom, which bears the inscription "Glenmorris lasts until Glenmorris comes." No old records in the house give any account of the room, but tradition persists that the family's prosperity depends upon its being left unmolested. Thus for hundreds of years each earl has warned his succeeding heir, and the chamber has never been opened. But the newest master of the house has little regard for ancient superstitions. He one day comes upon a document which mentions the hiding places used in olden times for family valuables, among them "Chamber D," which, supposedly for articles now unknown, can refer only to the bricked-up room---which is where, feels the earl, these missing treasures must still be. The temptation to unseal the place and search it is too strong to be resisted. As he pierces through the wall to the inner cavity, a draft of warm air rushes out, and a curious sound, like "the spitting of an angry cat," is heard within. As Glenmorris attempts to enter the enlarged opening something rushes out---and he is touched, as by a scorching, fiery hand. The room itself proves to contain only an empty coffin, beside which is a parchment; the latter, frighteningly, bears the comment "the fool has come at last" in medieval script. And engraved on the coffin-plate is the name of the earliest Glenmorrises---a man who was reputed to have been bound to the devil and to have committed numerous horrible crimes during his lifetime. The next day strange events occur: an invisible intruder brushes past a servant, leaving scorched clothing behind; a sulfurous odor pervades the dwelling; and the muniment room is sacked of its important documents by a skeletal wraith, who drops the pilfered family deeds in ashes to the hearth from his burning fingers. On the following day Glenmorris himself is found strangled, with a cluster of burns on his neck showing where fiery fingers have gripped him. And two days later he entire castle is swept

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82 FANTASY COMMENTATOR the paper. Furthur inexplicable phenomena occur, and finally a passer-by one day notices a man's form lying on the rocks near the house; it is that of the unlucky occupant, ...horribly mangled and broken. There was not a whole bone in his body;...his clothes had been torn to ribbons; and on his chest and back were fearful rents that appeared to have been made by the claws of a gigantic bird of prey. But what bird has feet eight inches across? Wintle's use of the scorched footprint is interesting indeed. The conception of a foot- or hand-print of blood is of course familiar even to the casual follower of outre fiction; it has its roots in ancient folk-legends, and has been utilized by various Gothic novelists of this genre, as well as by Hawthorne in the last century. But as far as I know, Wintle is the first to employ this pleasant new variation. The reader encounters it twice more in the volume, in "The Horror of Horton House" and "The Chamber of Doom." The former story is about a frightful psychic entity whose coming has been predicted by an ancient inscription above the fireplace of the mansion. The sliding panel to a secret passage in the room is frequently found open when no one could possibly have touched it, and upon the panel are marks of a burning hand, scorched into the wood. An odor of burning is from time to time noticed in the house, and within the secret passage is once seen a long hand with claw-like fingers, afire with evil little blue flames, which lingers a moment then disappears. Wishing to unravel this strange mystery, the owner of the house determines to investigate the secret passage which is its apparent source; but he is destined never to discover the solution, for when servants next look into the passage they are met with a malevolent odor---and on the floor is a heap of calcined bones. "The Chamber of Doom," which also utilizes a similar motif, is one of the finest stories in the collection. In Glenmorris Castle is a walled-up room, known as the Chamber of Doom, which bears the inscription "Glenmorris lasts until Glenmorris comes." No old records in the house give any account of the room, but tradition persists that the family's prosperity depends upon its being left unmolested. Thus for hundreds of years each earl has warned his succeeding heir, and the chamber has never been opened. But the newest master of the house has little regard for ancient superstitions. He one day comes upon a document which mentions the hiding places used in olden times for family valuables, among them "Chamber D," which, supposedly for articles now unknown, can refer only to the bricked-up room---which is where, feels the earl, these missing treasures must still be. The temptation to unseal the place and search it is too strong to be resisted. As he pierces through the wall to the inner cavity, a draft of warm air rushes out, and a curious sound, like "the spitting of an angry cat," is heard within. As Glenmorris attempts to enter the enlarged opening something rushes out---and he is touched, as by a scorching, fiery hand. The room itself proves to contain only an empty coffin, beside which is a parchment; the latter, frighteningly, bears the comment "the fool has come at last" in medieval script. And engraved on the coffin-plate is the name of the earliest Glenmorrises---a man who was reputed to have been bound to the devil and to have committed numerous horrible crimes during his lifetime. The next day strange events occur: an invisible intruder brushes past a servant, leaving scorched clothing behind; a sulfurous odor pervades the dwelling; and the muniment room is sacked of its important documents by a skeletal wraith, who drops the pilfered family deeds in ashes to the hearth from his burning fingers. On the following day Glenmorris himself is found strangled, with a cluster of burns on his neck showing where fiery fingers have gripped him. And two days later he entire castle is swept