Lovecraft, H P & Adolphe de Castro - The Electric Executioner

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The Electic Executioner

by H. P. Lovecraft and Adolphe de Castro

Published August 1930 in Weird Tales, 16, No. 2, 233-36.

For one who has never faced the danger of legal execution, I have a rather queer horror of

the electric chair as a subject. Indeed, I think the topic gives me more of a shudder than it

gives many a man who has been on trial for his life. The reason is that I associate the

thing with an incident of forty years ago--a very strange incident which brought me close

to the edge of the unknown black abyss.

In 1889 I was an auditor and investigator connected with the Tlaxcala Mining Company

of San Francisco, which operated several small silver and copper properties in the San

Mateo Mountains in Mexico. There had been some trouble at Mine No. 3, which had a

surly, furtive assistant superindendent named Arthur Feldon; and on August sixth the first

received a telegram saying that Feldon had decamped, taking with him all the stock

records, securities, and private papers, and leaving the whole clerical and financial

situation in dire confusion.

This development was a severe blow to the company, and late in the afternoon President

McComb called me into his office to give orders for the recovery of the papers at any

cost. There were, he knew, grave drawbacks. I had never seen Feldon, and there were

only very indifferent photographs to go by. Moreover, my own wedding was set for

Thursday of the following week--only nine days ahead--so that I was naturally not eager

to be hurried off to Mexico on a man-hunt of indefinite length. The need, however, was

so great that McComb felt justified in asking me to go at once; and I for my part decided

that the effect on my status with the company would make ready acquiescence eminently

worth while.

I was to start that night, using the president's private car as far as Mexico City, after

which I would have to take a narrow-gage railway to the mines. Jackson, the

superintendent of No. 3, would give me all the details and any possible clues upon my

arrival; and then the search would begin in earnest--through the mountains, down to the

coast, or among the byways of Mexico City, as the case might be. I set out with a grim

determination to get the matter done--and successfully done--as swiftly as possible; and

tempered my discontent with pictures of an early return with papers and culprit, and of a

wedding which would be almost a triumphal ceremony.

Having notified my family, fiancee, and principal friends, and made hasty preparations

for the trip, I met President McComb at eight P.M. at the Southern Pacific depot, received

from him some written instructions and a check-book, and left in his car attached to the

eight-fifteen eastbound transcontinental train. The journey that followed seemed destined

for uneventfulness, and after a good night's sleep I revelled in the ease of the private car

so thoughtfully assigned me; reading my instructions with care, and formulating plans for

the capture of Feldon and the recovery of the documents. I knew the Tlaxcala country

The Electic Executioner

quite well--probably much better than the missing man--hence had a certain amount of

advantage in my search unless he had already used the railway.

According to the instructions, Feldon had been a subject of worry to Superindendent

Jackson for some time; acting secretively, and working unaccountably in the company's

laboratory at odd hours. That he was implicated with a Mexican boss and several peons

in some thefts of ore was strongly suspected; but though the natives had been discharged,

there was not enough evidence to warrant any positive step regarding the subtle official.

Indeed, despite his furtiveness, there seemed to be more of defiance than of guilt in the

man's bearing. He wore a chip on his shoulder, and talked as if the company were

cheating him instead of his cheating the company. The obvious surveillance of his

colleagues, Jackson wrote, appeated to irritate him increasingly; and now he had gone

with everything of importance in the office. Of his possible whereabouts no guess could

be made; though Jackson's final telegram suggested the wild slopes of the Sieraa de

Malinche, that tall, myth-surrounded peak with the corpse-shaped silhouette, from whose

neighborhood the thieving natives were said to have come.

At El Paso, which we reached at two A.M. of the night following our start, my private car

was detatched from the transcontinental train and joined to an engine specially ordered by

telegraph to take it southward to Mexico City. I continued to drowse till dawn, and all

the next day grew bored on the flat, desert Chilhauhau landscape. The crew had told me

we were due in Mexico City at noon Friday, but I soon saw that countless delays were

wasting precious hours. There were waits on sidings all along the single-tracked route,

and now and then a hot-box or other difficulty would further complicate the schedule.

At Torreon we were six hours late, and it was almost eight o'clock on Friday evening--

fully twelve hours behind schedule--when the conductor consented to do some speeding

in an effort to make up time. My nerves were on edge, and I could do nothing but pace

the car in desperation. In the end I found that the speeding had been purchased at a high

cost, for within a half-hour the symptoms of a hotbox had developed in my car itself; so

that after a maddening wait the crew decided that all the bearings would have to be

overhauled after a quarter-speed limp to the next station with shops--the factory town of

Queretaro. This was the last straw, and I almost stamped like a child. Actually I

sometimes caught myself pushing at my chair-arm as if trying to urge the train forward at

a less snail-like pace.

It was almost ten in the evening when we draw into Queretaro, and I spent a fretful hour

on the station platform while my car was sidetracked and tinkered at by a dozen native

mechanics. At last they told me the job was too much for them, since the forward truck

needed new parts which could not be obtained nearer than Mexico City. Everything

indeed seemed against me, and I gritted my teeth when I thought of Feldon getting farther

and farther away--perhaps to the easy cover of Vera Cruz with its shipping or Mexico

City with its varied rail facilities--while fresh delays kept me tied and helpless. Of course

Jackson had notified the police in all the cities around, but I knew with sorrow what their

efficiency amounted to.

The Electic Executioner

The best I could do, I soon found out, was to take the regular night express for Mexico

City, which ran from Aguas Calientes and made a five-minute stop at Queretaro. It

would be along at one A.M. if on time, and was due in Mexico City at five o'clock

Saturday morning. When I purchased my ticket I found that the train would be made up

of European compartment carriages instead of long American cars with rows of two-seat

chairs. These had been much used in the early days of Mexican railroading, owing to the

European construction interests back of the first lines; and in 1889 the Mexican Central

was still running a fair number of them on its shorter trips. Orindarily I prefer the

Americna coaches, since I hate to have people facing me; but for this once I was glad of

the foreign carriage. At such a time of night I stood a good chance of having a whole

compartment to myself, and in my tired, nervously hypersensitive state I welcomed the

solitude--as well as the comfortably upholstered set with sof arm-rests and head-cushion,

running the whole width of the vehicle. I bought a first class ticket, obtained my valise

from the side-tracked private car, telegraphed both President McComb and Jackson of

what had happened, and settled down in the station to wait for the night express as

patiently as my strained nerves would let me.

For a wonder, the train was only half an hour late; though even so, the solitary station

vigil had about finished my endurance. The conductor, showing me into a compartment,

told me he expected to make up the delay and reach the capital on time; and I stretched

myself comfortably on the forward-facing seat in the expectation of a quiet three-and-a-

half hour run. The light from the overhead oil lamp was soothingly dim, and I wondered

whether I could snatch some much-needed sleep in spite of my anxiety and nerve-

tension. It seemed, as the train jolted into motion, tha tI was alone; and I was heartily

glad of it. My thoughts leaped ahead to my quest, and I nodded with the accelerating

rhythm of the speeding string of carriages.

Then suddenly I perceived that I was not alone after all. In the corner diagonally

opposite me, slumped down so that his face was invisible, sat a roughly clad man of

unusual size, whom the feeble light had failed to reveal before. Beside him on the seat

was a huge valise, battered and bulging, and tightly gripped even in his sleep by one of

his incongruously slender hands. As the engine whistled sharply at some curve or

crossing, the sleeper started nervously into a kind of watchful half-awakening; rasing his

head and disclosing a handsome face, bearded and clearly Anglo-Saxon, with dark,

lustrous eyes. At sight of me his wakefulness became complete, and I wondered at the

rather hostile wildness of his glance. No doubt, I thought, he resented my presence when

he had hoped to have the compartment alone all the way; just as I was myself

disappointed to find strange company in the half-lighted carriage. The best we could do,

however, was to accept the situation gracefully; so I began apologizing to the man for my

intrusion. He seemed to be a fellow-American, and we could both feel more at ease after

a few civilities. Then we could leave each other in peace for the balance of the journey.

To my surprise, the stranger did not respond to my courtesies with so much as a word.

Instead, he kept staring at me fiercely and almost appraisingly, and brushed aside my

embarrassed proffer of a cigar with a nervous lateral movement of his disengaged hand.

His other hand still tensely clutched the great, worn valise, and his whole person seemed

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摘要：

TheElecticExecutionerTheElecticExecutionerbyH.P.LovecraftandAdolphedeCastroPublishedAugust1930inWeirdTales,16,No.2,233-36.Foronewhohasneverfacedthedangeroflegalexecution,Ihavearatherqueerhorroroftheelectricchairasasubject.Indeed,Ithinkthetopicgivesmemoreofashudderthanitgivesmanyamanwhohasbeenontrial...

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Lovecraft, H P & Adolphe de Castro - The Electric Executioner

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