Too Close For Comfort

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Title:     Too Close For Comfort
Author: Charles B. Cory [More Titles by Cory]

When Dr. Watson entered I saw by his manner that he had something of more than usual interest to communicate. Watson has a trick of winding and unwinding his watch chain around his finger whenever he has some case in which he is particularly interested. As a rule, his work in the asylum keeps him busy the greater part of the day, and the little time he has to spare is given to cases in which he is called in consultation or by special appointment.

Therefore, knowing how busy he was, I felt certain that something out of the ordinary had called him from his regular duties at this time of day, and I was interested to learn what it was.

Watson is nothing if not direct, and rarely wastes words. On this occasion he certainly lived up to his reputation, for he began talking before he was fairly in the room.

"My dear Morris," he said, "I have called to talk with you of a most interesting case, which has lately come under my observation. It is one in which I need your help, and I hope you will be able to spare the time to assist me."

I nodded and waved him to a chair.

"The case in question is a most interesting one, in which hypnotic suggestion may or may not be an important factor.

"You know young Blake, the son of the late Mathew Blake, and you are aware that he has been rather extravagant in his habits and ways of living, and although not exactly a spendthrift, undoubtedly spends more money than he ought to in many ways. The great trouble with him is his passion for race-horses, and that is what, one of these days, is going to break him financially, unless I am very much mistaken.

"Just now young Blake has two horses entered in the big race which comes off day after to-morrow at Eaton Park. One of his horses, called Emperor, is well known, and he should easily win the race. He is by far the best horse of the lot, and has been selling in the pools for two to one against the field. The other horse is not nearly as good as Emperor, and has little chance of being placed. Murphy, the jockey who is to ride Emperor, is one of the best on the turf, although comparatively a young boy, probably about nineteen years old. He has ridden a number of races, and from all reports is a lad of good habits, and seemingly thoroughly honest.

"Young Blake, as you know, 'plunges' more or less on his horses when they run, whenever he thinks they have a fair show to win, and in this case he has bet a great deal more money than he can afford to lose, knowing that unless the horse meets with some unforeseen accident he is certain to win the race. As I understand it, he has bet so much money that if by any chance Emperor should lose the race it would seriously hurt young Blake. Of course, this is all foolishness from our standpoint, but the fact remains that the young man has bet this money, and that any accident which would interfere with his pulling off that race would cause him serious loss.

"Knowing his father as I did, I have taken more or less interest in the boy, and have time and again advised him to let racing alone, and settle down to more serious life. I should not have taken the special interest in this particular race had it not been that by a curious coincidence information has come to me which leads me to suspect that everything is not as it should be at young Blake's stables.

"Last year one of the stable boys, a lad by the name of Collins, was badly injured by an accident, and young Blake saw that he was nicely taken care of, and paid him a salary during his illness. The youngster was grateful, and the other day, it seems, he came to Mr. Blake and told him that Murphy, the jockey who is to ride Emperor, had been sleeping badly for several nights, and talked a good deal in his sleep about the horses.

"Murphy and Collins sleep together in the room over the stable, and the night before last Collins was awakened by hearing Murphy call out to some one, and then say distinctly, 'Yes, yes, I understand; if you wave your handkerchief I am to 'pull' Emperor. If you do not wave it I am to win, if I can.'

"This is serious business. The boy was dreaming, of course; but why did he dream such a dream? The idea of 'pulling' being in the boy's mind is in itself enough to cause serious reflection. Yesterday young Blake called on me and told me this story as it had been told to him by Collins. Collins was present at the time, and again repeated his statement, declaring positively that he could not have been mistaken in the words spoken by Murphy in his sleep, and that the boy seemed very much excited.

"Blake, by my advice, sent for Murphy and we had a serious conversation with him. The boy seemed thoroughly honest, and was very much hurt upon being questioned in regard to the matter. He said that he had worked for Blake several years and had always tried to do right, that he intended to ride his best, and win the race if he could.

"Blake naturally feels somewhat disturbed under the circumstances, but he believes the boy is honest, and he believes young Collins must in some way have been mistaken in what he imagines he heard. Or, if he was not mistaken, that Murphy was dreaming, and the words had no significance.

"He told Murphy to go back to the stables, and that he would trust him implicitly, stating at the same time that it would cause him serious inconvenience if by any chance Murphy should not win, as he had bet a large amount of money on the result.

"Murphy, with tears in his eyes, thanked him for trusting him, and went back to the stables. Afterwards I had a serious conversation with Collins, and learned that on two occasions he had seen Murphy talking with a strange man who often visited the track.

"Upon inquiry we have learned that the man in question is a brother of a man who married Murphy's sister, and that Murphy has met him several times at his sister's house. The man's name is Simms. He is a low character, who is known as a habitual frequenter of the race track, and who at times does business as a poolseller and bookmaker. Simms is described as being thin and dark, with a big scar on his right cheek, usually wears a soft hat, and carries a cane with considerable silver about the handle.

"Last night I decided to have an interview with Murphy and find out whether the lad could be hypnotized or not. Why this idea suggested itself to me I do not know, except that, as you know, hypnotism is one of my hobbies. With Blake's consent I sent for Murphy, and asked him to let me look him over, as I would like to assure Blake as to his physical condition, as naturally he was feeling, as I told him, somewhat nervous after our interview of the morning.

"The boy consented readily enough, and after listening to his heart, and asking him a few questions which might suggest a cause for his restlessness at night, I asked him to look at me fixedly while I gently stroked his forehead above the eyes with my hand. Imagine my surprise when I found him to be an extremely sensitive hypnotic subject. He did not become entirely unconscious, but was in a peculiar somnambulistic condition, in which he conversed readily enough. He is one of the best subjects for post-hypnotic suggestion that I have ever seen.

"I tried several experiments with him, and the thought occurred to me if it was not possible that this susceptibility to hypnotic suggestion might be used by unscrupulous persons in many ways, which might be especially dangerous in case he was riding a good horse in a race.

"Upon questioning Murphy, after I had awakened him, regarding his susceptibility to hypnotic influence, he told me that _Simms had often put him to sleep for fun, when they met at his sister's house_. The question which now presents itself is, Suppose he has been hypnotized and has been given a post-hypnotic suggestion, that he is to 'pull' Emperor if a certain man waves his handkerchief, how are we to prevent his carrying out these instructions? Of course, we can take the boy off the horse and put on another jockey, but Blake does not wish to do this.

"In his waking moments Murphy does not remember anything that has been told him while hypnotized, and I doubt if we could make Blake believe that there was any real danger in that quarter. Again, if we allow him to go in and ride the race, it is more than possible that he could be made to win or lose the race by any one who had given him orders while in a hypnotic condition, and we also know that he would forget entirely that he had received such orders after waking.

"Now, the difficulty presents itself as to how we can prevent him following out such instructions, in case he has received them. We know we cannot affect such suggestions by re-hypnotizing him, because we do not know the exact circumstances under which such directions were given. To merely hypnotize and tell him he is not to carry out such orders would have no effect whatever. Perhaps if we could tell him that under certain described circumstances he was not to carry out such orders we might succeed.

"But my experience has been that the directions, as given, are carried out by the subject if, at the time, the circumstance described, which is to be recognized as a signal for such and such action on the part of the hypnotized sensitive, occurs _and is noticed_.

"For instance, if I should hypnotize a young man, and say that at eight o'clock, when he hears the clock strike, he should at once go downstairs and get a glass of water, he would undoubtedly do it when the clock struck eight. But if the clock did not strike eight, supposing some one had removed the striker, and when near the hour some one occupied his attention so that he did not notice the time, in all probability he would not obey orders. It requires some special occurrence which has been described in connection with the act to suggest it again to his mind.

"In my opinion, the best we can do is to let Murphy ride the race, and to take all precautions possible to prevent any man waving his handkerchief to Murphy during the race. Of course, to have any real effect on the race, the person waving his handkerchief as a signal for Murphy to 'pull' Emperor must do so far enough from the home stretch to make it certain that Emperor can be prevented from winning without attracting especial attention, which could not be done in case Emperor was in the lead if the signal was given close to the Grand Stand. We, therefore, must look out for our man, if such a man there be, some distance down the race-track.

"Now, if you will go to the track with me to-morrow we will station ourselves in places where we think it likely that such a person would stand, and keep a sharp watch for a thin, dark man with a scar on his cheek. Will you join me?"

I assured him I would be more than willing to do so, as I was very much interested in the case.

"Good! Now, this is my plan. I shall take Mike Falan with me, and he is worth half a dozen men in the case of a row. I have also engaged three private detectives to be on the watch at the entrance to the Grand Stand, and another at the entrance to the grounds, while a fifth is to station himself at the side of the track, and do sentinel duty about the half-mile post, with orders to report to me the moment Simms puts in an appearance, and to have him shadowed. Of course, this elaborate plot may exist only in my imagination, but if, as I believe, there is a carefully arranged scheme to beat Blake's horse, we shall have done him a good turn, and perhaps saved him a lot of money. I must go now, but don't fail to meet me to-morrow at eleven, at the track. You will find me in front of the Grand Stand."

The next morning when I arrived at the track I found Dr. Watson in conversation with a powerful-looking man whom he introduced to me as Mike Falan. We walked slowly up the track to a point about a quarter of a mile from the finish. There was a great crowd of people present, the numbers had gone up for the first race, and most of the horses were already out and "warming up." Emperor appeared to be in splendid condition. As he galloped easily up and down in front of the Grand Stand his great muscles rolled and swelled under the shiny skin, and he looked and acted like a horse fit to race for his life. He was a prime favorite at the pools and was selling at two to one against the field.

"I have seen Blake," said Watson, "and he is feeling confident that Emperor will win. He is somewhat nervous, of course, but he tells me the horse is in first-class shape, and that Murphy is all right. No signs of Simms yet and the race will be started in less than ten minutes. It begins to look as though I have been frightened at a shadow."

At this moment a man touched Watson on the arm and whispered something to him and then moved quickly away through the crowd. Watson started, and turning to me said,

"Come this way. Simms is here, he is down the track, below the gate."

He hurried away, Mike and I following, and upon getting clear of the crowd we saw a man leaning against the picket fence which separated the track from the carriage drive, watching the horses through a small field-glass. As we came up, Simms, for it was he, glanced suspiciously at us, but as we paid no attention to him and talked earnestly together, apparently arguing as to the relative merits of the horses, he soon ceased to notice us and turned again to the horses.

Hardly had he done so when he hurriedly put the glass in his pocket, and a great shout from the Grand Stand and cries of "They're off!" told us that the great race had commenced.

We could see the horses far off on the opposite side of the track all running in a bunch, until they neared the half-mile flag, when two were seen to be well in advance of the others. As they swung round the curve we could see the red cap worn by Murphy flashing in the sun, and we knew that Emperor was leading. But another horse, a deep bay, the jockey dressed completely in blue, was very close to him.

On they came, and Watson and Mike edged closer and closer to Simms, whose whole attention was fixed on the race. His face was flushed, and he was actually dancing with excitement. We watched him as a cat watches a mouse, and it was very lucky for Blake that we did so. The horses were now quite near us, and we could see Murphy plainly, and noted how white and drawn his face looked. Suddenly Simms pulled a large white handkerchief from his pocket, but as he did so the doctor snatched it from his hand and at the same instant Mike seized him in his powerful arms, and dragged him from the fence.

Mad with surprise and rage, he struggled and kicked like a wild animal. "Damn you," he yelled, "let me go; let go, I say! What in hell do you mean?"

"Let him go, Mike," said the doctor. Mike pushed Simms from him, and he staggered back against the fence. The man was crazy with rage, and I believe for the moment he was really insane. He half crouched as if to spring at us, snarling and showing his teeth like a savage dog, then his hand went to his hip pocket.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you, Simms," said Watson quietly. "You will get the worst of it if you do."

Watson's right hand was in the pocket of his sack-coat, and his eyes said, "I'll shoot," as plainly as if he had told Simms so in so many words.

"See here, you," cried Mike, "if you pull a gun I'll smash your jaw!"

Simms looked from one to the other of us, with the expression of a madman. His face was ghastly white, and the scar on his cheek stood out livid, in contrast with the white skin. I thought for a moment he was about to draw his revolver, but suddenly he turned and ran toward the crowd, and in a moment was lost to our view.

The shouting and cheering still kept up, and, as we hurried toward the Grand Stand, Watson asked a man which horse had won.

"Emperor, by a length,--a great race!"

We found Blake in front of the stand. He came to us and shook hands. His face was beaming with the joy of success.

"Do you know," he said, "I do believe that something is the matter with Murphy. He was as pale as a ghost after the race. He said he could remember nothing about it until he found himself in the home stretch running neck and neck with Nettie B. Then he seemed to wake from a dream, and sat down and rode Emperor for all he was worth. You know the rest. He won out all right, but I tell you it was a confounded sight too close for comfort."

[The end]
Charles B. Cory's short story: Too Close For Comfort

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