 The weird circle. In this cave, by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past, stories, strange, and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell, so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. Phantoms of a world gone by speak again the immortal tale, the niche of doom. This top, this constant tapping inside my mind. Yes, I've listened to that same hopeless tapping for days on end. I thought it would stop when I came to this rest home. Here in my room, my husband sits on the edge of my bed, watching me, knowing my thoughts, feeding me horror, tearing at the fabric of my mind as a spider tears the wings of its prey. My husband August Meray, my husband, my torturer, my captor, my murderer. Woman has a right to live, to laugh, to smile and be happy, the right to love and be loved. And I was lonely. I remember the day I was in the patio attending to my tulip bulbs, talking to my maid Rosalie as I spayed at the earth. Oh, madam, the garden looks just beautiful. Yes, it does. I love this garden, Rosalie. It's the one thing in this entire dreary house I can call my own. If the tulip bulbs work as nicely as they did last year, perhaps Monsieur Meray will allow you to enter them the garden contest. I've meant to ask him. Good day, Josephine. How are you feeling today? I feel fine, August. I didn't expect you so early. You may go, Rosalie. Yes, sir. Anything I can do for you, madam? No, nothing, my dear. Yes, madam. You're looking very well, Josephine. Very well. August. You've something on your mind? What is it? August, I was wondering if you'd mind frightfully if I entered my tulip bulbs in the annual country exhibition. Mind? Naturally I mind. You know very well I don't like you making an exhibition of my name in public. August, just entering the tulip. I will not discuss it. But it's so lonely here all the time. Lonely? Nonsense. You've the maid for company? Yes, I've Rosalie. And I manage to spend one evening a week with you? Yes, I know you do. My dear, you should be very grateful that you have the position in life which marrying me has given you. I have everything but happiness, August. Happiness is relative. A girl born in the circumstances in which you were born, a poor, unimportant family, certainly cannot expect everything. But I ask so little, August, just to exhibit the bulbs in the flowers. I thought we were not going to discuss this anymore. You know very well the doctor told me at my age I'm not to allow myself to become excited. Yes, I remember what the doctor said. I'm glad. Please remember it. And now my dear, I really must go over to court. Will you be home this evening, August? I'm never home on Tuesdays, Josephine. Enjoy yourself, my dear. Don't wear yourself out in the patio. Your country girls are always lovely while you're young. But you age so quickly. Age so quickly? He frightened me. I saw all the years of my youth passing me by as I was caged up in a house in the room, Omar. I was only 15 when I married, August. 15 and he was 55 then. Five years of marriage had taught me the meaning of loneliness and tears. A woman has the right to bask in the warmth of her youth. That's why I left the house that day. I wandered out into the garden patio outside my room and I walked down the boulevard to Grinnell's café. I sat down at a table on the sidewalk, intending only to watch the others, to watch life pass by. The waiter was very friendly. What will you have, madame? An ice, a raspberry ice. A raspberry ice. Excellent, madame. Excellent for a warm afternoon. Oh, hangry, this would make August. Sitting all alone, madame? Yes, I... Well, because I wish to be alone. Oh, no, you don't. Not when you have the opportunity to enjoy my company. Please, sir, I shall call the waiter. No, don't please. You're lonely and I'm lonely. Certainly there can be no harm in two lonely people sharing a table for one short half hour. Now, can there? But my husband... Even a jealous husband can't eject. Really, sir? And you are lonely. You really want me to sit down, you just won't admit it. Oh, I can see the truth in your face. You see things that are not there. May I, madame? Just for one half hour. Well, there really is no harm in it, is there? None at all. Thank you. Of course, madame, you know that I've lied to you. Lied to me? Your ice, madame. Something for you, monsieur? Oh, same as the lady. Oui, monsieur. Nothing like raspberry ice to start a lifelong friendship. What do you mean you've lied to me? Well, I didn't just have it along just now. I didn't just happen to see you sitting here and come up. I planned everything very carefully in advance. Oh? You see, madame, I live across the way from you. I've watched you gardening in the patio of your home many times. But why, monsieur? Why? Why, because you're a beautiful woman. Because I wanted to know you so very much. Because I've seen something in your eyes that I've felt inside myself. You shouldn't, monsieur. You really shouldn't say these things to me. My name's Pierre Plantin. Monsieur, for both our sakes, do leave me now. You've no idea how much trouble this innocent little adventure might cause us later on. Oh, I've waited a long time to meet you, dear lady. Not just a day or a week or weeks, but a year. Very flattered, monsieur Plantin. Pierre's the name. Pierre? You know, the first day I saw you in the garden, I asked my servant who you were. And while I found out you were married, I resolved never to try to see you again, but... Why did you change your mind? I saw your husband. August is a very fine, upstanding man. He told you so himself, eh? I know, I really think so. He's an old, garrulous, stupid bore who's overwhelmed with his own importance. Oh. Frankly, my curiosity's aroused. Why did a lovely young girl like yourself ever marry him? Well, I... I loved it. Oh, madame. Please don't cry. Please. If there's one thing that turns my bone to water, it's a beautiful woman's tears here. I'm not crying. Here, use my handkerchief for these non-existent tears, then. Thank you. Now, Josephine, smile. Stop ordering me about. I won't have it. Please smile at me and say I'm forgiven. You're forgiven. Oh, that's better. I promise to be nice. You see, Josephine, believe it or not, I'm very fond of you, against my better judgment. You'd better believe it because I'll haunt you every day if you don't. And that's the way it started. Just a talk in a sidewalk cafe. My first friend, perhaps the only friend I had besides Rosalie, at first Pierre and I thought we were just playing at love. But by the end of the second week, I knew the truth. I loved him. I loved him as deeply and as truly as any woman could. We met in the afternoons in the cafe and in the evenings when August was out, he stole into the patio and we talked. Talked of him and of me and then of us. Of our future together. It was Tuesday two weeks ago that he was supposed to arrive at nine o'clock. Rosalie was helping me dress. You'd better hurry, Madame. You'll be here in half an hour. How do I look, Rosalie? Beautiful. I wish I were as beautiful as you. Oh, Madame, put this brooch in the front of the dress. It sparkles, so. Yes. Yes, I think I will. Rosalie, he's so handsome and so fine. And you really and truly love him? Really and truly. But what will you do, Madame? I don't know. If I could only be honest with August, if I could only tell him and break away. Oh, Madame, he'll kill Monsieur Pierre. Yes, I know. He'd be well within his rights. I'm so frightened sometimes. So very frightened. Oh, Madame. Listen, good steps. That's August outside my room. What will you do then? I don't know. Perhaps he'll leave before Pierre. But if he doesn't, then what? Then you must pretend that Pierre is your friend. Well, look at my lovely wife tonight. Dressed up, aren't you, my dear? Good evening, August. If I always dress in the evenings, you know that. No, I didn't. I shall hereafter take more advantage of your loveliness. Flatten me, Malone. I didn't expect you to drop in to see me this evening. Were you expecting someone else? Why, how unfair you are, sir. Unfair? No, I'm... Shall we say more curious than unfair? You may leave, Madame Rosalie. Madame, I... What's the matter with you, girl? Why do you stand there staring like that? Well, it's but... Rosalie's expecting a visitor in my patio shortly, August. A visitor? Rosalie? Yes. Well, it's different. A lover, eh? I suppose you'll be getting married soon, eh, girl? Well, yes. Yes, yes, I... Ah, more as the pity. Mind if I sit down, little Josephine? No, do my lord. I suppose you'll be leaving Madame and myself shortly. You should have told me, girl. Well, I... You what? I didn't think, monsieur. If you'd told me, I'd have supplied you with a decent dowry. A girl in your position can scarcely afford a trousseau. It's very kind of you, monsieur, to offer me. Well, my dear, no matter what, I shall be generous to you and offer your future husband-affair dowry anyway. What say you, Josephine? Is that not generous? Very generous, my lord. Ah, yes it is. My girl Rosalie, you shall be married in the Marais Chapel at noon Friday. Friday, monsieur? So soon? Three days? Yes, Friday. A girl in love should be delighted at prospect, unless you've lied to me. Lied to you? Oh, never, monsieur, never. I'm delighted, delighted. Yes, of course you are. Well, Josephine, you might help the young lady plan her wedding while I'm gone and make a list of all the necessary items which you'll need. Yes, my lord. I shall leave the entire proceedings in your hands. That ought to keep you well occupied. Yes, my lord. Are you leaving me so soon? I have to, my dear. You know these Tuesday nights. You know them very well. Good night, Josephine. Give my best to your suitor, Rosalie, and tell him I'll do my best by you. Oh, my dash. Careful. All this can be sly as a fox. Yes, Friday. Yes, Friday. Rosalie, he's very clever. I don't know how he found out the news. At least he suspects. What will we do, madam? I don't know. There he is. Tell him to come up, Rosalie. Is old spider legs gone? Yes. I climbed to my love's balcony. Darling, darling, darling. Here. August is clever. He knows. What? He knows? He told you so himself? He came in this evening while I was dressing. I was afraid he might stay for the evening, so I told him about you. You told him? I said that you and Rosalie were engaged to be married. Oh, so? He insists we get married Friday in the married chapel. He's going to revive my dowry. You think he suspects you, Josephine? Darling, you must leave at once and never return. Leave you and Rosalie to the mer- We'll lie our way out of this. I'll tell him my lover did not like to be rushed and quit me. And he'd believe it just like that? Of course. Never. Never, Rosalie. No, no, that's not the answer. That's not even sensible. Darling, sooner or later we'd have to take our chances and run away. Why not now? Run away? Where? How? To Spain. He'd never find us in Spain. I have no passport. I couldn't even leave the country. And as long as I'm in France, he'd find me and drag me back. We'd find a way to leave the country. Oh, Spain is lovely at this time of year. Beautiful. The trees are heavy with lilac bloom. And you'd like Madrid, Josephine. It's like another world. Madrid? If only... If only what? If only you have the courage? We'll leave at once, pack a few things quickly and we'll hire a coach to take us to the border. Tonight. Tonight, Pierre. Tonight. Now the suitcase is closed, my darling. Where's your coat? In this closet. Oh, let's do hurry. Lovely coat, isn't it? Everything looks lovely on you. Listen. What is it? My husband's footsteps in the hall. That's a pity, Rosalie. And I had such pleasant wedding plans for you. Can't you quickly hide in the closet? Take my coat and suitcase with you. Of course. You take it. Don't be frightened, darling. And she lay down with you. Well, she's probably lonely. I'll cheer her up. Josephine, I'm glad to see you looking well. Rosalie told me you were ill. I had a bad headache. What's that? Nothing. August, I heard nothing. In your closet. I heard something drop. What could drop in a closet? I don't know. You're better acquainted with your wardrobe than I am. Of course, my lord. You've so many headaches lately. Come, my dear. You'd best lie down and rest. Of course. Whatever you say, my lord. You may go, Rosalie. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I hope I didn't disturb your plans for the evening. But the evening began to pawl, so I returned home. Sometimes my friends can prove themselves quite dull. I was thinking of you and your beauty, and I was worried about you. Worried about me? In what way, August? Oh, in the last two weeks, two of my friends have told me that they've seen you walking down the street alone. Unchaperoned. Have they? Not that I listen to idle chatter, my dear. I don't. You know that. People talk. They have so little else to do. Naturally, I understand that. But then, a very close friend of mine was at the Café Grinald a few days ago. He, uh, has told me something that rather puzzled me. You look a little pale, my dear. My headache. Naturally, your headache. He said he was sitting in the Café and he noticed a woman who looks remarkably like you. Walk in and sit at a corner table. A woman who looked like me? She sat for a while all alone. Later, a man, a young man, joined her. He sat by her side. Uh, he called her Josephine, your name. Remarkable that a woman who looks like you should have the same name as you. Yes, it is remarkable. Quite coincidental. That's what I thought. Coincidental. I might even have thought that woman was you. If I didn't know better, know that you're a dutiful wife, my dear. Course, Auguste. For a little while, believe me, I was rather worried. I began to think about the habits and customs of country women and putting that together with your temporary restlessness lately. Well, for a while, my dear, perhaps in your moments of weakness, you had perhaps acquired an admirer. Please, Auguste. But naturally, you haven't? No, I haven't. Then when I walked in your room just now and I saw you looking so nervous, flushed, for a second I thought perhaps your, shall we say, admirer was here in this room with you. Did you? It was just a passing thought, naturally knowing you've a headache. I realized that the flushed expression comes from that. Yes, it does. Then again, when I heard that peculiar clatter in the closet, a strange idea was born. I thought perhaps your friend, the friend you met at the cafe, might be hiding in the closet. You look pale, Josephine. Do I? Is someone hiding in the closet? No. I naturally will take your word. If someone is in that closet, my dear, I should be forced to protect your honor and do away with it. Would you swear to me now on the Bible that there is no one hiding in the closet? Please, August, put away that dueling pistol. Then you are prepared to swear before God on the Holy Bible that no one is hiding in that closet? Yes, August. Ring for your maid, my dear. Bye. I said ring for her. Yes, my lord. Oh, fetch me your Bible. You have your Bible in the room, my dear, haven't you? Yes, my lord, it's right here at my bedside. Put your left hand on it. That's right. And swear on the Holy Bible that there is no other man in this room besides myself. Ah, I swear there is no other man in this room besides yourself, my lord. Ah, my mind is much relieved. Much relieved. I did, Rosalie. Do you know where Monsieur de Gorinfo lives? The Mason, monsieur? Yes, the Mason, monsieur. I want to write a little note to him and I want you to deliver it at once. Fetch me paper and a quill, Josephine. Yes, my lord, I have a quill right here. Here's paper. Ah, that's just the thing. You've learned to sharpen quills quite well, my love. Hmm. Dear Monsieur de Gorinfo, I am writing to you all because... Yes. That's what happened on that fatal Tuesday night. I perjured my soul and I've paid for it. How little did I realize how much I had to pay. Rosalie left the room and delivered the note as she was bitten. My lord and I were left alone. He bade me retire to bed as I looked poorly and said that he personally would remain with me until my headache left. I assured him my health was much improved, but he would not have it so. I retired to bed and he sat by my side until... Monsieur Mary. Monsieur Gorinfo is here. Come in, come in, Gorinfo. Ah, I'm done as you bid me, monsieur. I've brought the cement and the paving tools. Good work, Gorinfo. Come, bring them in here. In here, monsieur? In Madame's room? Yes, yes, in here. Why, August, why? Rosalie, go to bed, girl, and get a good night's sleep. You don't have to linger around any longer. Yes, sir. Monsieur Gorinfo, do you see that closet in the corner? Yes, my lord. I wish you to cement it up. The side of it affects my wife quite strangely. August! Please, my dear. But August! You swore to me there was no one in it, my dear beloved wife. And I believe you. Surely there's no harm in sealing up such an offensive ugly closet. I'll have another one built for you. Put my clothes. I shall buy you new ones. What are you waiting for, monsieur Gorinfo? My lord, at this hour of the night you... You are sure you want me to do this now, monsieur? Wait till morning, my lord. I am positive, absolutely positive, my poor Gorinfo. Go to work at once. I will not wait. I am a man of whims. Strange, interesting way. Whim. August knew that my lover hid in there. I didn't think he'd have the heart to go through with what he had intended. So at first I just sat quietly by and watched. Gorinfo laid first one row of bricks, and then another, and then a third, and then a fourth. Pierre was afraid by now. He preferred quick, certain death to slow starvation, and he began knocking on the door and calling out. Please, let me out. Gorinfo petrified, stopped, and he said... Monsieur, monsieur Marais. Go ahead, monsieur Gorinfo. There's no one in that closet. My wife has assured me there's no one there. August! August! And I'm within my rights, monsieur Gorinfo. Proceed at once. Proceed. As you say, monsieur Marais. Yes. He says he was within his rights to do exactly as he pleased. The fifth row slowly fell in place, and the sixth. And then I knew that August meant to see that night's work finished. The seventh. I cried. I wept. I tore at his coat. I pleaded. I am treated. It was all no use at all. Small beads of perspiration shone on Gorinfo as far as he wept, and the rows kept going up one by one until morning, when the entire job was done. Thank you, monsieur Gorinfo. Here is 2,000 francs for your work and your silence. My wife's good name must not be bantered about in public. Thank you, monsieur. Thank you. Come, come, my dear, dry your eyes. The offending closet is sealed up. August, there's a man inside. There is. There is. How can you deny it? You're lying to me, Josephine. You swore there wasn't. I must believe an oath taken on a Bible. Listen, don't you hear him? Yes, but my ears deceive me. He's calling out. August, please take my life. But don't, don't let him die in there. Oh, my dear, there's no one in that closet. Remember what you said? Ring for your maid, Josephine. I said ring for her, not cry out for her. Of course I'll ring for her. August, be human. Please be human. I've been more than human, Josephine. I've been godly. I've accepted your word as absolute truth. Don't come in, Rosalie. I shall see you at the door. Stay right out here, my dear. That's right. Instruct the butler and all the servants that Madame and I will remain in her room for at least a month. And our meals are to be served by my private valet. Yes, monsieur. And otherwise, we're not to be disturbed by anyone. Yes, monsieur. For thirty days and thirty nights. I heard that tapping on the wall. His cries, his moans, his words, his pleas. I heard them there. August was stoned, completely stoned. He didn't care. He just sat and watched me. Watched my face. Enjoyed my terror. Fed me horror, waiting daily for the cries that issued up. August, how can you? How can you be like this? He's there. Pierre is there. He's behind the wall. My dear, you must be ill. Listen to him. He's dying there. Each day his strength grows less. And as he dies, I must die too. August. Please, in heaven's name be kind, merciful. Forgive me, let him go. There's no one there. I'll call the maid. You'll need her care. No one there. So ill, poor girl. Please call the doctor, hopefully. My wife is ill. She's going away for a long rest. A very long rest. I sit here in this rest home. Listening to the feeble tapping inside my head. The same feeble tapping I heard on the closet wall of my bedroom at home. That same feeble tapping. Will it never stop? On the time-worn pages of the past, we have brought to you the story of the niche of doom. Well, keepers. To.