"He told me so," he said. "He let me know, because I was about to die.
"No wonder the secret was never found. There's never been anything like it in the history of haunted houses: a single personality so powerful that he could create what seemed to be a complex multiple haunting; one entity appearing to be dozens, imposing endless physical and mental effects on those who entered his house - utilizing his power like some soloist performing on a giant, hellish console."
The motor was off now; the car was getting cold. They should be getting into town, but sitting in the darkness, stunned, subdued, she couldn't stir herself as Fischer's voice droned on.
"I think he knew, from the second we entered, that Florence was the one to concentrate on. She was our weakest link; not because she had no strength, but because she was so willingly vulnerable to him.
"When she sat on Monday night, he must have fed her various impressions, looking for one that would create a response in her. It was the young man that 'took' in her mind - the one Florence came to identify as Daniel Belasco.
"At the same time, in order to use her against your husband, Belasco caused her to manifest physical phenomena. It served a multiple purpose. It verified your husband's beliefs. It was the first wedge in Florence's assurance; she knew she was a mental medium, and even though she tried to convince herself that it was God's will, it always distressed her. She knew it was wrong.
We both did.
"And, as a third effect, it prevented your husband from bringing another psychic into the house after I refused to sit for him."
His eyes flinted. "Belasco keeping the group to a workable number.
"Then," he continued, "he started to evolve a situation of hostility between Florence and your husband. He knew that they disagreed on their beliefs, knew that, subconsciously. Florence would resent your husband's insistence on the physical examination, the intimation - however politely phrased - that she was capable of fraud, even if it was involuntary. Belasco worked on that resentment, worked on their differences of belief, built them up, then caused the poltergeist attack in the dining hall, using some of Florence's strength but mostly his own. Again, a multiple purpose was served. First, it weakened Florence, made her doubt her motivations. Second, it increased the animosity between her and your husband. Third, it further verified your husband's convictions. Fourth, it injured him, frightened him a little."
"He wasn't frightened," Edith said; but there was no conviction in her voice.
"He kept on working on Florence," Fischer said, as though she hadn't spoken, "draining her physically and mentally: the bites, the cat's attack - undermining her strength on the one hand, elaborating her misconception about Daniel on the other.
When her confidence was flagging most, because of what your husband said, Belasco let her find the body - even staging an apparent resistance to her finding it, to make it more convincing.
"So she became persuaded that Daniel Belasco haunted the house. To guarantee the conviction, Belasco led her to the tarn in her sleep, let 'Daniel' rescue her, even gave her a fleeting glimpse of himself rushing from the tarn. She was positive then. She came to me and told me what she thought - that Belasco controlled the haunting by manipulating every other entity in the house. She was so close. My God! Even fooled every step of the way, she almost had it. That was why she was so certain.
Because, in everything she said, there was only the thinnest wall between her and the actual truth. If I'd helped her, she might have broken through, might have - "
Fischer stopped abruptly. For a long time he stared through the window. Finally he went on.
"It was a matter of timing," he said. "Belasco must have known that, sooner or later, Florence would come up with the right answer. So he concentrated on her even more, used her memory about her brother's death, and tied it in to her obsession about Daniel Belasco. Her brother's grief became Daniel's grief, her brother's need" - Fischer clenched his teeth - "became Daniel's."
His expression was one of hatred now. "He clinched it by finally letting her into the chapel. Admitting her to the very place she was positive possessed the secret of Hell House. It was his final stratagem, showing her the Bible entry made when his son was born. Belasco knew she'd believe it, because it was exactly what she was looking for - a final verification. There was no room left in her mind for doubt after that. There had been a Daniel Belasco, and his spirit needed her help. Combining the facts of his son's existence with her lasting sorrow for her brother's death, Belasco had convinced her."
Edith twitched as, unexpectedly, Fischer drove the edge of a fist against his palm. "And I sensed what that help was going to be. I knew it inside!" He turned his face away from her. "And I let it go. Let her do what she should never have done, let her destroy herself.
"From then on, she was lost," he went on bitterly. "There was no way I could have gotten her out of the house; I was a fool for thinking that I could. She was his . . . a puppet to be played with, tortured." Again, the sound of self-derision. "There I sat at the table while your husband explained his theory to us, knowing she was possessed, yet not even questioning why - suddenly, illogically - she was so quiet and attentive, on her best behavior. Because it wasn't her listening at all; it was Belasco.
"He wanted to hear the details."
"Was it him that tried to break the Reversor, then?"
"Why should he break it? He knew it wasn't any danger to him."
"But you said the house was clear after Lionel used it."
"Another of Belasco's tricks."
"I can't believe - "
"He's still in that house, Edith," Fischer interrupted, pointing. "He murdered your husband, murdered Florence, almost murdered you and me - "
His laugh was cold with defeat. "His final jest. Even though we actually know his secret now, there's not a damn thing we can do about it."
8:36 P.M.
Fischer held back as they reached the house. Edith turned to face him. He was staring at the doors. "What is it?" she asked.
"I don't know if I can go back in."
She hesitated, finally said, "I have to have his things, Ben."
Fischer didn't respond.
"You said if you were closed off, Belasco couldn't touch you."
"I said a lot of things this week. Most of them wrong."
"Shall I go in, then?"
He was silent.
"Shall I?"
Stepping to the doors, he pushed the right one open. He looked inside for several moments, then turned to her. "I'll be as fast as I can," he said.
Fischer stepped inside the house. For a few minutes he stood motionless, anticipating. When nothing happened, he started across the entry hall, heading for the stairs. Again the atmosphere was flat. It did not assuage his fears this time. As he ascended the steps quickly, he wondered if Belasco was still in the chapel or moving about the house. He hoped that being closed off was enough defense. He wasn't even sure of that now. Entering the Barretts' room, he threw their suitcases on the bed and opened them.
What had unnerved him as much as anything, he thought as he started packing, was the realization that Barrett had been wrong. The man had seemed so confident; everything he'd said had made so much sense. Still, what did that weigh against the fact that he'd failed?
Fischer moved quickly between bed, closet, and bureau, grabbing clothes and other personal belongings and tossing them into the two open suitcases. Belasco must have decided, from the start, never to show himself, he thought. If no one ever saw him, they could never think him that important a part of the haunting. If, instead, they observed a fantastic array of phenomena, all apparently disconnected, they would work on separate elements of those phenomena, never once realizing that he was the cause of all of them. Bastard, he thought. His features hardened, and with angry movements he began to cram things together in the suitcases so he could shut the lids.
The only thing he couldn't understand was why Belasco - so diabolically efficient when it came to plotting Florence's and Barrett's overthrow - had chosen such an inefficient way to finish him. Sending him away from the house could not have been fail-proof under any circumstances. If Belasco's power was unlimited, why had he chosen such an inept method?
Fischer stopped packing abruptly.
Unless that power was not unlimited any more.
Was it possible? He'd certainly been vulnerable to Belasco in the chapel. If there had ever been a time when Belasco should have been able to crush him, that had been the time. Yet, despite that, the most he'd been able to do was direct him to commit suicide in the tarn. Why? Had Florence been right about him, too? Was his own power really so vast? He shook his head. That didn't make sense. It was ego-flattering, but unconvincing. Maybe when he was a boy, but not now. More acceptable an idea was that Belasco hadn't been strong enough to destroy him after destroying Barrett and Florence.
Again, why? With such power at his disposal as he'd manifested all week, why should he be weakened now? It couldn't be that the Reversor had worked. If it had, Belasco would be gone.
What was it, then?
