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diff --git a/8602-h/8602-h.htm b/8602-h/8602-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a3bd69 --- /dev/null +++ b/8602-h/8602-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9041 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Uninhabited House, by Mrs. J. H. Riddell +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 4% } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.contents {text-indent: -3%; + margin-left: 5% } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 4em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Uninhabited House, by Mrs. J. H. Riddell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Uninhabited House + +Author: Mrs. J. H. Riddell + +Posting Date: April 10, 2014 [EBook #8602] +Release Date: August, 2005 +First Posted: July 27, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNINHABITED HOUSE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Martin Agren, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version +by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1> +<br /><br /><br /> +THE UNINHABITED HOUSE +</h1> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS. J. H. RIDDELL +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + 1. <a href="#chap01">MISS BLAKE—FROM MEMORY</a><br /> + 2. <a href="#chap02">THE CORONER'S INQUEST</a><br /> + 3. <a href="#chap03">OUR LAST TENANT</a><br /> + 4. <a href="#chap04">MYSELF AND MISS BLAKE</a><br /> + 5. <a href="#chap05">THE TRIAL</a><br /> + 6. <a href="#chap06">WE AGREE TO COMPROMISE</a><br /> + 7. <a href="#chap07">MY OWN STORY</a><br /> + 8. <a href="#chap08">MY FIRST NIGHT AT RIVER HALL</a><br /> + 9. <a href="#chap09">A TEMPORARY PEACE</a><br /> + 10. <a href="#chap10">THE WATCHER IS WATCHED</a><br /> + 11. <a href="#chap11">MISS BLAKE ONCE MORE</a><br /> + 12. <a href="#chap12">HELP</a><br /> + 13. <a href="#chap13">LIGHT AT LAST</a><br /> + 14. <a href="#chap14">A TERRIBLE INTERVIEW</a><br /> + 15. <a href="#chap15">CONCLUSION</a><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap01"></a> +1. MISS BLAKE—FROM MEMORY +</h3> + +<p> +If ever a residence, "suitable in every respect for a family of +position," haunted a lawyer's offices, the "Uninhabited House," about +which I have a story to tell, haunted those of Messrs. Craven and Son, +No. 200, Buckingham Street, Strand. +</p> + +<p> +It did not matter in the least whether it happened to be let or unlet: +in either case, it never allowed Mr. Craven or his clerks, of whom I was +one, to forget its existence. +</p> + +<p> +When let, we were in perpetual hot water with the tenant; when unlet, we +had to endeavour to find some tenant to take that unlucky house. +</p> + +<p> +Happy were we when we could get an agreement signed for a couple of +years—although we always had misgivings that the war waged with the +last occupant would probably have to be renewed with his successor. +</p> + +<p> +Still, when we were able to let the desirable residence to a solvent +individual, even for twelve months, Mr. Craven rejoiced. +</p> + +<p> +He knew how to proceed with the tenants who came blustering, or +threatening, or complaining, or bemoaning; but he did not know what +to do with Miss Blake and her letters, when no person was liable +for the rent. +</p> + +<p> +All lawyers—I am one myself, and can speak from a long and varied +experience—all lawyers, even the very hardest, have one client, at all +events, towards whom they exhibit much forbearance, for whom they feel a +certain sympathy, and in whose interests they take a vast deal of +trouble for very little pecuniary profit. +</p> + +<p> +A client of this kind favours me with his business—he has favoured me +with it for many years past. Each first of January I register a vow he +shall cost me no more time or money. On each last day of December I +find he is deeper in my debt than he was on the same date a +twelvemonth previous. +</p> + +<p> +I often wonder how this is—why we, so fierce to one human being, +possibly honest and well-meaning enough, should be as wax in the hand of +the moulder, when another individual, perhaps utterly disreputable, +refuses to take "No" for an answer. +</p> + +<p> +Do we purchase our indulgences in this way? Do we square our accounts +with our own consciences by remembering that, if we have been as stone +to Dick, Tom, and Harry, we have melted at the first appeal of Jack? +</p> + +<p> +My principal, Mr. Craven—than whom a better man never breathed—had an +unprofitable client, for whom he entertained feelings of the profoundest +pity, whom he treated with a rare courtesy. That lady was Miss Blake; +and when the old house on the Thames stood tenantless, Mr. Craven's bed +did not prove one of roses. +</p> + +<p> +In our firm there was no son—Mr. Craven had been the son; but the old +father was dead, and our chief's wife had brought him only daughters. +</p> + +<p> +Still the title of the firm remained the same, and Mr. Craven's own +signature also. +</p> + +<p> +He had been junior for such a number of years, that, when Death sent a +royal invitation to his senior, he was so accustomed to the old form, +that he, and all in his employment, tacitly agreed it was only fitting +he should remain junior to the end. +</p> + +<p> +A good man. I, of all human beings, have reason to speak well of him. +Even putting the undoubted fact of all lawyers keeping one unprofitable +client into the scales, if he had not been very good he must have washed +his hands of Miss Blake and her niece's house long before the period at +which this story opens. +</p> + +<p> +The house did not belong to Miss Blake. It was the property of her +niece, a certain Miss Helena Elmsdale, of whom Mr. Craven always spoke +as that "poor child." +</p> + +<p> +She was not of age, and Miss Blake managed her few pecuniary affairs. +</p> + +<p> +Besides the "desirable residence, suitable," etcetera, aunt and niece +had property producing about sixty-five pounds a year. When we could let +the desirable residence, handsomely furnished, and with every +convenience that could be named in the space of a half-guinea +advertisement, to a family from the country, or an officer just returned +from India, or to an invalid who desired a beautiful and quiet abode +within an easy drive of the West End—when we could do this, I say, the +income of aunt and niece rose to two hundred and sixty-five pounds a +year, which made a very material difference to Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +When we could not let the house, or when the payment of the rent was in +dispute, Mr. Craven advanced the lady various five and ten pound notes, +which, it is to be hoped, were entered duly to his credit in the Eternal +Books. In the mundane records kept in our offices, they always appeared +as debits to William Craven's private account. +</p> + +<p> +As for the young men about our establishment, of whom I was one, we +anathematised that house. I do not intend to reproduce the language we +used concerning it at one period of our experience, because eventually +the evil wore itself out, as most evils do, and at last we came to look +upon the desirable residence as an institution of our firm—as a sort of +<i>cause célèbre</i>, with which it was creditable to be associated—as a +species of remarkable criminal always on its trial, and always certain +to be defended by Messrs. Craven and Son. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, the Uninhabited House—for uninhabited it usually was, whether +anyone was answerable for the rent or not—finally became an object of +as keen interest to all Mr. Craven's clerks as it became a source of +annoyance to him. +</p> + +<p> +So the beam goes up and down. While Mr. Craven pooh-poohed the +complaints of tenants, and laughed at the idea of a man being afraid of +a ghost, we did not laugh, but swore. When, however, Mr. Craven began to +look serious about the matter, and hoped some evil-disposed persons were +not trying to keep the place tenantless, our interest in the old house +became absorbing. And as our interest in the residence grew, so, +likewise, did our appreciation of Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +We missed her when she went abroad—which she always did the day a fresh +agreement was signed—and we welcomed her return to England and our +offices with effusion. Safely I can say no millionaire ever received +such an ovation as fell to the lot of Miss Blake when, after a foreign +tour, she returned to those lodgings near Brunswick Square, which her +residence ought, I think, to have rendered classic. +</p> + +<p> +She never lost an hour in coming to us. With the dust of travel upon +her, with the heat and burden of quarrels with railway porters, and +encounters with cabmen, visible to anyone who chose to read the signs +of the times, Miss Blake came pounding up our stairs, wanting to see +Mr. Craven. +</p> + +<p> +If that gentleman was engaged, she would sit down in the general office, +and relate her latest grievance to a posse of sympathising clerks. +</p> + +<p> +"And he says he won't pay the rent," was always the refrain of these +lamentations. +</p> + +<p> +"It is in Ireland he thinks he is, poor soul!" she was wont to declare. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll teach him different, Miss Blake," the spokesman of the party +would declare; whilst another ostentatiously mended a pen, and a +third brought down a ream of foolscap and laid it with a thump before +him on the desk. +</p> + +<p> +"And, indeed, you're all decent lads, though full of your tricks," +Miss Blake would sometimes remark, in a tone of gentle reproof. "But +if you had a niece just dying with grief, and a house nobody will live +in on your hands, you would not have as much heart for fun, I can tell +you that." +</p> + +<p> +Hearing which, the young rascals tried to look sorrowful, and failed. +</p> + +<p> +In the way of my profession I have met with many singular persons, +but I can safely declare I never met with any person so singular as +Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +She was—I speak of her in the past tense, not because she is dead, but +because times and circumstances have changed since the period when we +both had to do with the Uninhabited House, and she has altered in +consequence—one of the most original people who ever crossed my path. +</p> + +<p> +Born in the north of Ireland, the child of a Scottish-Ulster mother and +a Connaught father, she had ingeniously contrived to combine in her own +person the vices of two distinct races, and exclude the virtues of both. +</p> + +<p> +Her accent was the most fearful which could be imagined. She had the +brogue of the West grafted on the accent of the North. And yet there +was a variety about her even in this respect. One never could tell, +from visit to visit, whether she proposed to pronounce "written" as +"wrutten" or "wretten";[Footnote: The wife of a celebrated Indian +officer stated that she once, in the north of Ireland, heard Job's +utterance thus rendered—"Oh! that my words were wr<i>u</i>tten, that they +were pr<i>e</i>nted in a b<i>u</i>ke."] whether she would elect to style her +parents, to whom she made frequent reference, her "pawpaw and mawmaw," +or her "pepai and memai." +</p> + +<p> +It all depended with whom Miss Blake had lately been most intimate. If +she had been "hand and glove" with a "nob" from her own country—she was +in no way reticent about thus styling her grander acquaintances, only +she wrote the word "knob"—who thought to conceal his nationality by +"awing" and "hawing," she spoke about people being "morried" and wearing +"sockcloth and oshes." If, on the contrary, she had been thrown into the +society of a lady who so far honoured England as to talk as some people +do in England, we had every A turned into E, and every U into O, while +she minced her words as if she had been saying "niminy piminy" since she +first began to talk, and honestly believed no human being could ever +have told she had been born west of St. George's Channel. +</p> + +<p> +But not merely in accent did Miss Blake evidence the fact that her birth +had been the result of an injudicious cross; the more one knew of her, +the more clearly one saw the wrong points she threw out. +</p> + +<p> +Extravagant to a fault, like her Connaught father, she was in no respect +generous, either from impulse or calculation. +</p> + +<p> +Mean about minor details, a turn of character probably inherited from +the Ulster mother, she was utterly destitute of that careful and honest +economy which is an admirable trait in the natives of the north of +Ireland, and which enables them so frequently, after being strictly +just, to be much more than liberal. +</p> + +<p> +Honest, Miss Blake was not—or, for that matter, honourable either. Her +indebtedness to our firm could not be considered other than a matter of +honour, and yet she never dreamt of paying her debt to Mr. Craven. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, to do Miss Blake strict justice, she never thought of paying the +debts she owed to anyone, unless she was obliged to do so. +</p> + +<p> +Nowadays, I fear it would fare hard with her were she to try her old +tactics with the British tradesman; but, in the time of which I am +writing, co-operative societies were not, and then the British tradesman +had no objection, I fancy, to be gulled. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, like the lawyer and the unprofitable client, he set-off being +gulled on one side his ledger against being fleeced on the other. +</p> + +<p> +Be this as it may, we were always compounding some liability for Miss +Blake, as well as letting her house and fighting with the tenants. +</p> + +<p> +At first, as I have said, we found Miss Blake an awful bore, but we +generally ended by deciding we could better spare a better man. Indeed, +the months when she did not come to our office seemed to want flavour. +</p> + +<p> +Of gratitude—popularly supposed to be essentially characteristic of the +Irish—Miss Blake was utterly destitute. I never did know—I have never +known since, so ungrateful a woman. +</p> + +<p> +Not merely did she take everything Mr. Craven did for her as a right, +but she absolutely turned the tables, and brought him in her debtor. +</p> + +<p> +Once, only once, that I can remember, he ventured to ask when it would +be convenient for her to repay some of the money he had from time to +time advanced. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake was taken by surprise, but she rose equal to the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +"You are joking, Mr. Craven," she said. "You mean, when will I want to +ask you to give me a share of the profits you have made out of the +estate of my poor sister's husband. Why, that house has been as good as +an annuity to you. For six long years it has stood empty, or next to +empty, and never been out of law all the time." +</p> + +<p> +"But, you know, Miss Blake, that not a shilling of profit has accrued to +me from the house being in law," he pleaded. "I have always been too +glad to get the rent for you, to insist upon my costs, and, really—." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, do not try to impose upon me," she interrupted, "because it is of +no use. Didn't you make thousands of the dead man, and now haven't you +got the house? Why, if you never had a penny of costs, instead of all +you have pocketed, that house and the name it has brought to you, and +the fame which has spread abroad in consequence, can't be reckoned as +less than hundreds a year to your firm. And yet you ask me for the +return of a trumpery four or five sovereigns—I am ashamed of you! But I +won't imitate your bad example. Let me have five more to-day, and you +can stop ten out of the Colonel's first payment." +</p> + +<p> +"I am very sorry," said my employer, "but I really have not five pounds +to spare." +</p> + +<p> +"Hear him," remarked Miss Blake, turning towards me. "Young man"—Miss +Blake steadily refused to recognise the possibility of any clerk being +even by accident a gentleman—"will you hand me over the newspaper?" +</p> + +<p> +I had not the faintest idea what she wanted with the newspaper, and +neither had Mr. Craven, till she sat down again deliberately—the latter +part of this conversation having taken place after she rose, preparatory +to saying farewell—opened the sheet out to its full width, and +commenced to read the debates. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Miss Blake," began Mr. Craven, after a minute's pause, "you +know my time, when it is mine, is always at your disposal, but at the +present moment several clients are waiting to see me, and—" +</p> + +<p> +"Let them wait," said Miss Blake, as he hesitated a little. "Your time +and their time is no more valuable than mine, and I mean to stay +<i>here</i>," emphasising the word, "till you let me have that five pounds. +Why, look, now, that house is taken on a two years' agreement, and you +won't see me again for that time—likely as not, never; for who can tell +what may happen to anybody in foreign parts? Only one charge I lay upon +you, Mr. Craven: don't let me be buried in a strange country. It is bad +enough to be so far as this from my father and my mother's remains, but +I daresay I'll manage to rest in the same grave as my sister, though +Robert Elmsdale lies between. He separated us in life—not that she ever +cared for him; but it won't matter much when we are all bones and dust +together—" +</p> + +<p> +"If I let you have that five pounds," here broke in Mr. Craven, "do I +clearly understand that I am to recoup myself out of Colonel Morris' +first payment?" +</p> + +<p> +"I said so as plain as I could speak," agreed Miss Blake; and her speech +was very plain indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, while he drew +his cheque-book towards him. +</p> + +<p> +"How is Helena?" he asked, as he wrote the final legendary flourish +after Craven and Son. +</p> + +<p> +"Helena is but middling, poor dear," answered Miss Blake—on that +occasion she called her niece Hallana. "She frets, the creature, as is +natural; but she will get better when we leave England. England is a +hard country for anyone who is all nairves like Halana." +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you never bring her to see me?" asked Mr. Craven, folding up +the cheque. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring her to be stared at by a parcel of clerks!" exclaimed Miss Blake, +in a tone which really caused my hair to bristle. "Well-mannered, decent +young fellows in their own rank, no doubt, but not fit to look at my +sister's child. Now, now, Mr. Craven, ought Kathleen Blake's—or, +rather, Kathleen Elmsdale's daughter to serve as a fifth of November guy +for London lads? You know she is handsome enough to be a duchess, like +her mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, I know," agreed Mr. Craven, and handed over the cheque. +</p> + +<p> +After I had held the door open for Miss Blake to pass out, and closed it +securely and resumed my seat, Miss Blake turned the handle and treated +us to another sight of her bonnet. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, William Craven, for two years at any rate; and if I never see +you again, God bless you, for you've been a true friend to me and that +poor child who has nobody else to look to," and then, before Mr. Craven +could cross the room, she was gone. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder," said I, "if it will be two years before we see her again?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, nor the fourth of two years," answered my employer. "There is +something queer about that house." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't think it is haunted, sir, do you?" I ventured. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not," said Mr. Craven, irritably; "but I do think some one +wants to keep the place vacant, and is succeeding admirably." +</p> + +<p> +The question I next put seemed irrelevant, but really resulted from a +long train of thought. This was it: +</p> + +<p> +"Is Miss Elmsdale very handsome, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is very beautiful," was the answer; "but not so beautiful as her +mother was." +</p> + +<p> +Ah me! two old, old stories in a sentence. He had loved the mother, and +he did not love the daughter. He had seen the mother in his bright, +hopeful youth, and there was no light of morning left for him in which +he could behold the child. +</p> + +<p> +To other eyes she might, in her bright spring-time, seem lovely as an +angel from heaven, but to him no more such visions were to be +vouchsafed. +</p> + +<p> +If beauty really went on decaying, as the ancients say, by this time +there could be no beauty left. But oh! greybeard, the beauty remains, +though our eyes may be too dim to see it; the beauty, the grace, the +rippling laughter, and the saucy smiles, which once had power to stir to +their very depths our hearts, friend—our hearts, yours and mine, +comrade, feeble, and cold, and pulseless now. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap02"></a> +2. THE CORONER'S INQUEST +</h3> + +<p> +The story was told to me afterwards, but I may as well weave it in with +mine at this juncture. +</p> + +<p> +From the maternal ancestress, the Demoiselles Blake inherited a certain +amount of money. It was through no fault of the paternal Blake—through +no want of endeavours on his part to make ducks and drakes of all +fortune which came in his way, that their small inheritance remained +intact; but the fortune was so willed that neither the girls nor he +could divert the peaceful tenure of its half-yearly dividends. +</p> + +<p> +The mother died first, and the father followed her ere long, and then +the young ladies found themselves orphans, and the possessors of a fixed +income of one hundred and thirty pounds a year. +</p> + +<p> +A modest income, and yet, as I have been given to understand, they might +have married well for the money. +</p> + +<p> +In those days, particularly in Ireland, men went very cheap, and the +Misses Blake, one and both, could, before they left off mourning, have +wedded, respectively, a curate, a doctor, a constabulary officer, and +the captain of a government schooner. +</p> + +<p> +The Misses Blake looked higher, however, and came to England, where rich +husbands are presumably procurable. Came, but missed their market. Miss +Kathleen found only one lover, William Craven, whose honest affection +she flouted; and Miss Susannah found no lover at all. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Kathleen wanted a duke, or an earl—a prince of the blood royal +being about that time unprocurable; and an attorney, to her Irish ideas, +seemed a very poor sort of substitute. For which reason she rejected the +attorney with scorn, and remained single, the while dukes and earls were +marrying and intermarrying with their peers or their inferiors. +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly there came a frightful day when Kathleen and Susannah +learned they were penniless, when they understood their trustee had +robbed them, as he had robbed others, and had been paying their interest +out of what was left of their principal. +</p> + +<p> +They tried teaching, but they really had nothing to teach. They tried +letting lodgings. Even lodgers rebelled against their untidiness and +want of punctuality. +</p> + +<p> +The eldest was very energetic and very determined, and the youngest very +pretty and very conciliatory. Nevertheless, business is business, and +lodgings are lodgings, and the Misses Blake were on the verge of +beggary, when Mr. Elmsdale proposed for Miss Kathleen and was accepted. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven, by that time a family man, gave the bride away, and secured +Mr. Elmsdale's business. +</p> + +<p> +Possibly, had Mrs. Elmsdale's marriage proved happy, Mr. Craven might +have soon lost sight of his former love. In matrimony, as in other +matters, we are rarely so sympathetic with fulfilment as with +disappointment. The pretty Miss Blake was a disappointed woman after she +had secured Mr. Elmsdale. She then understood that the best life could +offer her was something very different indeed from the ideal duke her +beauty should have won, and she did not take much trouble to conceal her +dissatisfaction with the arrangements of Providence. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven, seeing what Mr. Elmsdale was towards men, pitied her. +Perhaps, had he seen what Mrs. Elmsdale was towards her husband, he +might have pitied him; but, then, he did not see, for women are +wonderful dissemblers. +</p> + +<p> +There was Elmsdale, bluff in manner, short in person, red in the face, +cumbersome in figure, addicted to naughty words, not nice about driving +fearfully hard bargains, a man whom men hated, not undeservedly; and +yet, nevertheless, a man capable of loving a woman with all the veins of +his heart, and who might, had any woman been found to love him, have +compassed earthly salvation. +</p> + +<p> +There were those who said he never could compass eternal; but they +chanced to be his debtors—and, after all, that question lay between +himself and God. The other lay between himself and his wife, and it must +be confessed, except so far as his passionate, disinterested love for an +utterly selfish woman tended to redeem and humanise his nature, she +never helped him one step along the better path. +</p> + +<p> +But, then, the world could not know this, and Mr. Craven, of whom I am +speaking at the moment, was likely, naturally, to think Mr. Elmsdale all +in the wrong. +</p> + +<p> +On the one hand he saw the man as he appeared to men: on the other he +saw the woman as she appeared to men, beautiful to the last; fragile, +with the low voice, so beautiful in any woman, so more especially +beautiful in an Irish woman; with a languid face which insured +compassion while never asking for it; with the appearance of a martyr, +and the tone and the manner of a suffering saint. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone who beheld the pair together, remarked, "What a pity it was +such a sweet creature should be married to such a bear!" but Mr. +Elmsdale was no bear to his wife: he adored her. The selfishness, the +discontent, the ill-health, as much the consequence of a peevish, +petted temper, as of disease, which might well have exhausted the +patience and tired out the love of a different man, only endeared her +the more to him. +</p> + +<p> +She made him feel how inferior he was to her in all respects; how +tremendously she had condescended, when she agreed to become his wife; +and he quietly accepted her estimation of him, and said with a humility +which was touching from its simplicity: +</p> + +<p> +"I know I am not worthy of you, Kathleen, but I do my best to make +you happy." +</p> + +<p> +For her sake, not being a liberal man, he spent money freely; for her +sake he endured Miss Blake; for her sake he bought the place which +afterwards caused us so much trouble; for her sake, he, who had always +scoffed at the folly of people turning their houses into stores for +"useless timber," as he styled the upholsterer's greatest triumphs, +furnished his rooms with a lavish disregard of cost; for her sake, he, +who hated society, smiled on visitors, and entertained the guests she +invited, with no grudging hospitality. For her sake he dressed well, +and did many other things which were equally antagonistic to his +original nature; and he might just as well have gone his own way, and +pleased himself only, for all the pleasure he gave her, or all the +thanks she gave him. +</p> + +<p> +If Mr. Elmsdale had come home drunk five evenings a week, and beaten his +wife, and denied her the necessaries of life, and kept her purse in a +chronic state of emptiness, she might very possibly have been extremely +grateful for an occasional kind word or smile; but, as matters stood, +Mrs. Elmsdale was not in the least grateful for a devotion, as beautiful +as it was extraordinary, and posed herself on the domestic sofa in the +character of a martyr. +</p> + +<p> +Most people accepted the representation as true, and pitied her. Miss +Blake, blissfully forgetful of that state of impecuniosity from which +Mr. Elmsdale's proposal had extricated herself and her sister, never +wearied of stating that "Katty had thrown herself away, and that Mr. +Elmsdale was not fit to tie her shoe-string." +</p> + +<p> +She generously admitted the poor creature did his best; but, according +to Blake, the poor creature's best was very bad indeed. +</p> + +<p> +"It's not his fault, but his misfortune," the lady was wont to remark, +"that he's like dirt beside her. He can't help his birth, and his +dragging-up, and his disreputable trade, or business, or whatever he +likes to call it; he can't help never having had a father nor mother to +speak of, and not a lady or gentleman belonging to the family since it +came into existence. I'm not blaming him, but it is hard for Kathleen, +and she reared as she was, and accustomed to the best society in +Ireland,—which is very different, let me tell you, from the best +anybody ever saw in England." +</p> + +<p> +There were some who thought, if Mrs. Elmsdale could tolerate her +sister's company, she might without difficulty have condoned her +husband's want of acquaintance with some points of grammar and +etiquette; and who said, amongst themselves, that whereas he only +maltreated, Miss Blake mangled every letter in the alphabet; but these +carping critics were in the minority. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Elmsdale was a beauty, and a martyr; Mr. Elmsdale a rough beast, +who had no capacity of ever developing into a prince. Miss Blake was a +model of sisterly affection, and if eccentric in her manner, and +bewildering in the vagaries of her accent, well, most Irish people, the +highest in rank not excepted, were the same. Why, there was Lord +So-and-so, who stated at a public meeting that "roight and moight were +not always convartible tarms"; and accepted the cheers and laughter +which greeted his utterance as evidence that he had said something +rather neat. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake's accent was a very different affair indeed from those +wrestles with his foe in which her brother-in-law always came off +worsted. He endured agonies in trying to call himself Elmsdale, and +rarely succeeded in styling his wife anything except Mrs. HE. I am told +Miss Blake's mimicry of this peculiarity was delicious: but I never was +privileged to hear her delineation, for, long before the period when +this story opens, Mr. Elmsdale had departed to that land where no +confusion of tongues can much signify, and where Helmsdale no doubt +served his purpose just as well as Miss Blake's more refined +pronunciation of his name. +</p> + +<p> +Further, Miss Helena Elmsdale would not allow a word in depreciation of +her father to be uttered when she was near, and as Miss Helena could on +occasion develop a very pretty little temper, as well as considerable +power of satire, Miss Blake dropped out of the habit of ridiculing Mr. +Elmsdale's sins of omission and commission, and contented herself by +generally asserting that, as his manner of living had broken her poor +sister's heart, so his manner of dying had broken her—Miss +Blake's—heart. +</p> + +<p> +"It is only for the sake of the orphan child I am able to hold up at +all," she would tell us. "I would not have blamed him so much for +leaving us poor, but it was hard and cruel to leave us disgraced into +the bargain"; and then Miss Blake would weep, and the wag of the office +would take out his handkerchief and ostentatiously wipe his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She often threatened to complain of that boy—a merry, mischievous young +imp—to Mr. Craven; but she never did so. Perhaps because the clerks +always gave her rapt attention; and an interested audience was very +pleasant to Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +Considering the nature of Mr. Elmsdale's profession, Miss Blake had +possibly some reason to complain of the extremely unprofitable manner in +which he cut up. He was what the lady described as "a dirty +money-lender." +</p> + +<p> +Heaven only knows how he drifted into his occupation; few men, I +imagine, select such a trade, though it is one which seems to exercise +an enormous fascination for those who have adopted it. +</p> + +<p> +The only son of a very small builder who managed to leave a few hundred +pounds behind him for the benefit of Elmsdale, then clerk in a +contractor's office, he had seen enough of the anxieties connected with +his father's business to wash his hands of bricks and mortar. +</p> + +<p> +Experience, perhaps, had taught him also that people who advanced money +to builders made a very nice little income out of the capital so +employed; and it is quite possible that some of his father's +acquaintances, always in want of ready cash, as speculative folks +usually are, offered such terms for temporary accommodation as tempted +him to enter into the business of which Miss Blake spoke so +contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +Be this as it may, one thing is certain—by the time Elmsdale was thirty +he had established a very nice little connection amongst needy men: +whole streets were mortgaged to him; terraces, nominally the property of +some well-to-do builder, were virtually his, since he only waited the +well-to-do builder's inevitable bankruptcy to enter into possession. He +was not a sixty per cent man, always requiring some very much better +security than "a name" before parting with his money; but still even +twenty per cent, usually means ruin, and, as a matter of course, most of +Mr. Elmsdale's clients reached that pleasant goal. +</p> + +<p> +They could have managed to do so, no doubt, had Mr. Elmsdale never +existed; but as he was in existence, he served the purpose for which it +seemed his mother had borne him; and sooner or later—as a rule, sooner +than later—assumed the shape of Nemesis to most of those who "did +business" with him. +</p> + +<p> +There were exceptions, of course. Some men, by the help of exceptional +good fortune, roguery, or genius, managed to get out of Mr. Elmsdale's +hands by other paths than those leading through Basinghall or Portugal +Streets; but they merely proved the rule. +</p> + +<p> +Notably amongst these fortunate persons may be mentioned a Mr. Harrison +and a Mr. Harringford—'Arrison and 'Arringford, as Mr. Elmsdale called +them, when he did not refer to them as the two Haitches. +</p> + +<p> +Of these, the first-named, after a few transactions, shook the dust of +Mr. Elmsdale's office off his shoes, sent him the money he owed by his +lawyer, and ever after referred to Mr. Elmsdale as "that thief," "that +scoundrel," that "swindling old vagabond," and so forth; but, then, +hard words break no bones, and Mr. Harrison was not very well thought +of himself. +</p> + +<p> +His remarks, therefore, did Mr. Elmsdale very little harm—a +money-lender is not usually spoken of in much pleasanter terms by those +who once have been thankful enough for his cheque; and the world in +general does not attach a vast amount of importance to the opinions of a +former borrower. Mr. Harrison did not, therefore, hurt or benefit his +quondam friend to any appreciable extent; but with Mr. Harringford the +case was different. +</p> + +<p> +He and Elmsdale had been doing business together for years, "everything +he possessed in the world," he stated to an admiring coroner's jury +summoned to sit on Mr. Elmsdale's body and inquire into the cause of +that gentleman's death—"everything he possessed in the world, he owed +to the deceased. Some people spoke hardly of him, but his experience of +Mr. Elmsdale enabled him to say that a kinder-hearted, juster, honester, +or better-principled man never existed. He charged high interest, +certainly, and he expected to be paid his rate; but, then, there was no +deception about the matter: if it was worth a borrower's while to take +money at twenty per cent, why, there was an end of the matter. Business +men are not children," remarked Mr. Harringford, "and ought not to +borrow money at twenty per cent, unless they can make thirty per cent, +out of it." Personally, he had never paid Mr. Elmsdale more than twelve +and a half or fifteen per cent.; but, then, their transactions were on a +large scale. Only the day before Mr. Elmsdale's death—he hesitated a +little over that word, and became, as the reporters said, "affected"—he +had paid him twenty thousand pounds. The deceased told him he had urgent +need of the money, and at considerable inconvenience he raised the +amount. If the question were pressed as to whether he guessed for what +purpose that sum was so urgently needed, he would answer it, of course; +but he suggested that it should not be pressed, as likely to give pain +to those who were already in terrible affliction. +</p> + +<p> +Hearing which, the jury pricked up their ears, and the coroner's +curiosity became so intense that he experienced some difficulty in +saying, calmly, that, "as the object of his sitting there was to elicit +the truth, however much he should regret causing distress to anyone, he +must request that Mr. Harringford, whose scruples did him honour, would +keep back no fact tending to throw light upon so sad an affair." +</p> + +<p> +Having no alternative after this but to unburden himself of his secret, +Mr. Harringford stated that he feared the deceased had been a heavy +loser at Ascot. Mr. Harringford, having gone to that place with some +friends, met Mr. Elmsdale on the race-course. Expressing astonishment at +meeting him there, Mr. Elmsdale stated he had run down to look after a +client of his who he feared was going wrong. He said he did not much +care to do business with a betting man. In the course of subsequent +conversation, however, he told the witness he had some money on the +favourite. +</p> + +<p> +As frequently proves the case, the favourite failed to come in first: +that was all Mr. Harringford knew about the matter. Mr. Elmsdale never +mentioned how much he had lost—in fact, he never referred again, except +in general terms, to their meeting. He stated, however, that he must +have money, and that immediately; if not the whole amount, half, at all +events. The witness found, however, he could more easily raise the +larger than the smaller sum. There had been a little unpleasantness +between him and Mr. Elmsdale with reference to the demand for money made +so suddenly and so peremptorily, and he bitterly regretted having even +for a moment forgotten what was due to so kind a friend. +</p> + +<p> +He knew of no reason in the world why Mr. Elmsdale should have committed +suicide. He was, in business, eminently a cautious man, and Mr. +Harringford had always supposed him to be wealthy; in fact, he believed +him to be a man of large property. Since the death of his wife, he had, +however, noticed a change in him; but still it never crossed the +witness's mind that his brain was in any way affected. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake, who had to this point postponed giving her evidence, on +account of the "way she was upset," was now able to tell a sympathetic +jury and a polite coroner all she knew of the matter. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," she began, "Robert Elmsdale had never been the same man since +her poor sister's death; he mooned about, and would sit for half an +hour at a time, doing nothing but looking at a faded bit of the +dining-room carpet." +</p> + +<p> +He took no interest in anything; if he was asked any questions about the +garden, he would say, "What does it matter? <i>she</i> cannot see it now." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, my lord," said Miss Blake, in her agitation probably +confounding the coroner with the chief justice, "it was just pitiful to +see the creature; I am sure his ways got to be heart-breaking." +</p> + +<p> +"After my sister's death," Miss Blake resumed, after a pause, devoted by +herself, the jury, and the coroner to sentiment, "Robert Elmsdale gave +up his office in London, and brought his business home. I do not know +why he did this. He would not, had she been living, because he always +kept his trade well out of her sight, poor man. Being what she was, she +could not endure the name of it, naturally. It was not my place to say +he shouldn't do what he liked in his own house, and I thought the +excitement of building a new room, and quarrelling with the builder, and +swearing at the men, was good for him. He made a fireproof place for his +papers, and he fitted up the office like a library, and bought a +beautiful large table, covered with leather; and nobody to have gone in +would have thought the room was used for business. He had a Turkey +carpet on the floor, and chairs that slipped about on castors; and he +planned a covered way out into the road, with a separate entrance for +itself, so that none of us ever knew who went out or who came in. He +kept his affairs secret as the grave." +</p> + +<p> +"No," in answer to the coroner, who began to think Miss Blake's +narrative would never come to an end. "I heard no shot: none of us +did: we all slept away from that part of the house; but I was restless +that night, and could not sleep, and I got up and looked out at the +river, and saw a flare of light on it. I thought it odd he was not +gone to bed, but took little notice of the matter for a couple of +hours more, when it was just getting gray in the morning, and I +looked out again, and still seeing the light, slipped on a +dressing-wrapper and my slippers, and ran downstairs to tell him he +would ruin his health if he did not go to his bed. +</p> + +<p> +"When I opened the door I could see nothing; the table stood between me +and him; but the gas was flaring away, and as I went round to put it +out, I came across him lying on the floor. It never occurred to me he +was dead; I thought he was in a fit, and knelt down to unloose his +cravat, then I found he had gone. +</p> + +<p> +"The pistol lay on the carpet beside him—and that," finished Miss +Blake, "is all I have to tell." +</p> + +<p> +When asked if she had ever known of his losing money by betting, she +answered it was not likely he would tell her anything of that kind. +</p> + +<p> +"He always kept his business to himself," she affirmed, "as is the way +of most men." +</p> + +<p> +In answer to other questions, she stated she never heard of any losses +in business; there was plenty of money always to be had for the asking. +He was liberal enough, though perhaps not so liberal latterly, as before +his wife's death; she didn't know anything of the state of his affairs. +Likely, Mr. Craven could tell them all about that. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven, however, proved unable to do so. To the best of his belief, +Mr. Elmsdale was in very easy circumstances. He had transacted a large +amount of business for him, but never any involving pecuniary loss or +anxiety; he should have thought him the last man in the world to run +into such folly as betting; he had no doubt Mrs. Elmsdale's death had +affected him disastrously. He said more than once to witness, if it were +not for the sake of his child, he should not care if he died that night. +</p> + +<p> +All of which, justifying the jury in returning a verdict of "suicide +while of unsound mind," they expressed their unanimous opinion to that +effect—thus "saving the family the condemnation of <i>felo de se</i>" +remarked Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +The dead man was buried, the church service read over his remains, the +household was put into mourning, the blinds were drawn up, the windows +flung open, and the business of life taken up once more by the +survivors. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap03"></a> +3. OUR LAST TENANT +</h3> + +<p> +It is quite competent for a person so to manage his affairs, that, +whilst understanding all about them himself, another finds it next to +impossible to make head or tail of his position. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven found that Mr. Elmsdale had effected this feat; entries there +were in his books, intelligible enough, perhaps, to the man who made +them, but as so much Hebrew to a stranger. +</p> + +<p> +He had never kept a business banking account; he had no regular journal +or ledger; he seemed to have depended on memoranda, and vague and +uncertain writings in his diary, both for memory and accuracy; and as +most of his business had been conducted <i>viva voce</i>, there were few +letters to assist in throwing the slightest light on his transactions. +</p> + +<p> +Even from the receipts, however, one thing was clear, viz., that he had, +since his marriage, spent a very large sum of money; spent it lavishly, +not to say foolishly. Indeed, the more closely Mr. Craven looked into +affairs, the more satisfied he felt that Mr. Elmsdale had committed +suicide simply because he was well-nigh ruined. +</p> + +<p> +Mortgage-deeds Mr. Craven himself had drawn up, were nowhere to be +found; neither could one sovereign of the money Mr. Harringford paid be +discovered. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake said she believed "that Harringford had never paid at all"; +but this was clearly proved to be an error of judgment on the part of +that impulsive lady. Not merely did Harringford hold the receipt for the +money and the mortgage-deeds cancelled, but the cheque he had given to +the mortgagee bore the endorsement—"Robert Elmsdale"; while the clerk +who cashed it stated that Mr. Elmsdale presented the order in person, +and that to him he handed the notes. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever he had done with the money, no notes were to be found; a +diligent search of the strong room produced nothing more important than +the discovery of a cash-box containing three hundred pounds; the +title-deeds of River Hall—such being the modest name by which Mr. +Elmsdale had elected to have his residence distinguished; the leases +relating to some small cottages near Barnes; all the letters his wife +had ever written to him; two locks of her hair, one given before +marriage, the other cut after her death; a curl severed from the head of +my "baby daughter"; quantities of receipts—and nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder he can rest in his grave," said Miss Blake, when at last she +began to realize, in a dim sort of way, the position of affairs. +</p> + +<p> +According to the River Hall servants' version, Mr. Elmsdale did anything +rather than rest in his grave. About the time the new mourning had been +altered to fit perfectly, a nervous housemaid, who began perhaps to find +the house dull, mooted the question as to whether "master walked." +</p> + +<p> +Within a fortnight it was decided in solemn conclave that master did; +and further, that the place was not what it had been; and moreover, that +in the future it was likely to be still less like what it had been. +</p> + +<p> +There is a wonderful instinct in the lower classes, which enables them +to comprehend, without actual knowledge, when misfortune is coming upon +a house: and in this instance that instinct was not at fault. +</p> + +<p> +Long before Mr. Craven had satisfied himself that his client's estate +was a very poor one, the River Hall servants, one after another, had +given notice to leave—indeed, to speak more accurately, they did not +give notice, for they left; and before they left they took care to +baptize the house with such an exceedingly bad name, that neither for +love nor money could Miss Blake get a fresh "help" to stay in it for +more than twenty-four hours. +</p> + +<p> +First one housemaid was taken with "the shivers"; then the cook had "the +trembles"; then the coachman was prepared to take his solemn affidavit, +that, one night long after everyone in the house to his knowledge was in +bed, he "see from his room above the stables, a light a-shining on the +Thames, and the figures of one or more a passing and a repassing across +the blind." More than this, a new page-boy declared that, on a certain +evening, before he had been told there was anything strange about the +house, he heard the door of the passage leading from the library into +the side-road slam violently, and looking to see who had gone out by +that unused entrance, failed to perceive sign of man, woman, or child, +by the bright moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +Moved by some feeling which he professed himself unable to "put a name +on," he proceeded to the door in question, and found it barred, chained, +and bolted. While he was standing wondering what it meant, he noticed +the light as of gas shining from underneath the library door; but when +he softly turned the handle and peeped in, the room was dark as the +grave, and "like cold water seemed running down his back." +</p> + +<p> +Further, he averred, as he stole away into the hall, there was a sound +followed him as between a groan and a cry. Hearing which statement, an +impressionable charwoman went into hysterics, and had to be recalled to +her senses by a dose of gin, suggested and taken strictly as a medicine. +</p> + +<p> +But no supply of spirituous liquors, even had Miss Blake been disposed +to distribute anything of the sort, could induce servants after a time +to remain in, or charwomen to come to, the house. It had received a bad +name, and that goes even further in disfavour of a residence than it +does against a man or woman. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, Miss Blake's establishment was limited to an old creature +almost doting and totally deaf, the advantages of whose presence might +have been considered problematical; but, then, as Miss Blake remarked, +"she was somebody." +</p> + +<p> +"And now she has taken fright," proceeded the lady. "How anyone could +make her hear their story, the Lord in heaven alone knows; and if there +was anything to see, I am sure she is far too blind to see it; but she +says she daren't stay. She does not want to see poor master again till +she is dead herself." +</p> + +<p> +"I have got a tenant for the house the moment you like to say you will +leave it," said Mr. Craven, in reply. "He cares for no ghost that ever +was manufactured. He has a wife with a splendid digestion, and several +grown-up sons and daughters. They will soon clear out the shadows; and +their father is willing to pay two hundred and fifty pounds a year." +</p> + +<p> +"And you think there is really nothing more of any use amongst +the papers?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid not—I am afraid you must face the worst." +</p> + +<p> +"And my sister's child left no better off than a street beggar," +suggested Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come," remonstrated Mr. Craven; "matters are not so bad as all +that comes to. Upon three hundred a year, you can live very comfortable +on the Continent; and—" +</p> + +<p> +"We'll go," interrupted Miss Blake; "but it is hard lines—not that +anything better could have been expected from Robert Elmsdale." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! dear Miss Blake, the poor fellow is dead. Remember only his +virtues, and let his faults rest." +</p> + +<p> +"I sha'n't have much to burden my memory with, then," retorted Miss +Blake, and departed. +</p> + +<p> +Her next letter to my principal was dated from Rouen; but before that +reached Buckingham Street, our troubles had begun. +</p> + +<p> +For some reason best known to himself, Mr. Treseby, the good-natured +country squire possessed of a wife with an excellent digestion, at the +end of two months handed us half a year's rent, and requested we should +try to let the house for the remainder of his term, he, in case of our +failure, continuing amenable for the rent. In the course of the three +years we secured eight tenants, and as from each a profit in the way of +forfeit accrued, we had not to trouble Mr. Treseby for any more money, +and were also enabled to remit some small bonuses—which came to her, +Miss Blake assured us, as godsends—to the Continent. +</p> + +<p> +After that the place stood vacant for a time. Various care-takers were +eager to obtain the charge of it, but I only remember one who was not +eager to leave. +</p> + +<p> +That was a night-watchman, who never went home except in the daytime, +and then to sleep, and he failed to understand why his wife, who was a +pretty, delicate little creature, and the mother of four small +children, should quarrel with her bread and butter, and want to leave +so fine a place. +</p> + +<p> +He argued the matter with her in so practical a fashion, that the +nearest magistrate had to be elected umpire between them. +</p> + +<p> +The whole story of the place was repeated in court, and the +night-watchman's wife, who sobbed during the entire time she stood in +the witness-box, made light of her black eye and numerous bruises, but +said, "Not if Tim murdered her, could she stay alone in the house +another night." +</p> + +<p> +To prevent him murdering her, he was sent to gaol for two months, and +Mr. Craven allowed her eight shillings a week till Tim was once more a +free man, when he absconded, leaving wife and children chargeable to +the parish. +</p> + +<p> +"A poor, nervous creature," said Mr. Craven, who would not believe that +where gas was, any house could be ghost-ridden. "We must really try to +let the house in earnest." +</p> + +<p> +And we did try, and we did let, over, and over, and over again, +always with a like result, till at length Mr. Craven said to me: "Do +you know, Patterson, I really am growing very uneasy about that house +on the Thames. I am afraid some evil-disposed person is trying to +keep it vacant." +</p> + +<p> +"It certainly is very strange," was the only remark I felt capable +of making. +</p> + +<p> +We had joked so much about the house amongst ourselves, and ridiculed +Miss Blake and her troubles to such an extent, that the matter bore no +serious aspect for any of us juniors. +</p> + +<p> +"If we are not soon able to let it," went on Mr. Craven, "I shall advise +Miss Blake to auction off the furniture and sell the place. We must not +always have an uninhabited house haunting our offices, Patterson." +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head in grave assent, but all the time I was thinking the day +when that house ceased to haunt our offices, would be a very dreary one +for the wags amongst our clerks. "Yes, I certainly shall advise Miss +Blake to sell," repeated Mr. Craven, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Although a hard-working man, he was eminently slow in his ideas +and actions. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing express about our dear governor; upon no special +mental train did he go careering through life. Eminently he preferred +the parliamentary pace: and I am bound to say the life-journey so +performed was beautiful exceedingly, with waits not devoid of interest +at little stations utterly outside his profession, with kindly talk to +little children, and timid women, and feeble men; with a pleasant smile +for most with whom he came in contact, and time for words of kindly +advice which did not fall perpetually on stony ground, but which +sometimes grew to maturity, and produced rich grain of which himself +beheld the garnering. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, to my younger and quicker nature, he did seem often +very tardy. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not advise her now?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! my boy," he answered, "life is very short, yet it is long enough to +have no need in it for hurry." +</p> + +<p> +The same day, Colonel Morris appeared in our office. Within a fortnight, +that gallant officer was our tenant; within a month, Mrs. Morris, an +exceedingly fine lady, with grown-up children, with very young children +also, with ayahs, with native servants, with English servants, with a +list of acquaintances such as one may read of in the papers the day +after a Queen's drawing-room, took possession of the Uninhabited House, +and, for about three months, peace reigned in our dominions. +</p> + +<p> +Buckingham Street, as represented by us, stank in the nostrils of no +human being. +</p> + +<p> +So far we were innocent of offence, we were simply ordinary solicitors +and clerks, doing as fully and truly as we knew how, an extremely good +business at rates which yielded a very fair return to our principal. +</p> + +<p> +The Colonel was delighted with the place, he kindly called to say; so +was Mrs. Morris; so were the grown-up sons and daughters of Colonel and +Mrs. Morris; and so, it is to be presumed, were the infant branches of +the family. +</p> + +<p> +The native servants liked the place because Mr. Elmsdale, in view of his +wife's delicate health, had made the house "like an oven," to quote Miss +Blake. "It was bad for her, I know," proceeded that lady, "but she would +have her own way, poor soul, and he—well, he'd have had the top brick +of the chimney of a ten-story house off, if she had taken a fancy for +that article." +</p> + +<p> +Those stoves and pipes were a great bait to Colonel Morris, as well as a +source of physical enjoyment to his servants. +</p> + +<p> +He, too, had married a woman who was not always easy to please; but +River Hall did please her, as was natural, with its luxuries of heat, +ease, convenience, large rooms opening one out of another, wide +verandahs overlooking the Thames, staircases easy of ascent; baths, hot, +cold, and shower; a sweet, pretty garden, conservatory with a door +leading into it from the spacious hall, all exceedingly cheap at two +hundred pounds a year. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, at first, the Colonel was delighted with the place, and not +the less so because Mrs. Morris was delighted with it, and because it +was also so far from town, that he had a remarkably good excuse for +frequently visiting his club. +</p> + +<p> +Before the new-comers, local tradesmen bowed down and did worship. +</p> + +<p> +Visitors came and visitors went, carriages appeared in shoals, and +double-knocks were plentiful as blackberries. A fresh leaf had evidently +been turned over at River Hall, and the place meant to give no more +trouble for ever to Miss Blake, or Mr. Craven, or anybody. So, as I have +said, three months passed. We had got well into the dog-days by that +time; there was very little to do in the office. Mr. Craven had left for +his annual holiday, which he always took in the company of his wife and +daughters—a correct, but possibly a depressing, way of spending a +vacation which must have been intended to furnish some social variety in +a man's life; and we were all very idle, and all very much inclined to +grumble at the heat, and length, and general slowness of the days, when +one morning, as I was going out in order to send a parcel off to Mrs. +Craven, who should I meet coming panting up the stairs but Miss Blake! +</p> + +<p> +"Is that you, Patterson?" she gasped. I assured her it was I in the +flesh, and intimated my astonishment at seeing her in hers. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I thought you were in France, Miss Blake," I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"That's where I have just come from," she said. "Is Mr. Craven in?" I +told her he was out of town. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay—that's where everybody can be but me," she remarked, plaintively. +"They can go out and stay out, while I am at the beck and call of all +the scum of the earth. Well, well, I suppose there will be quiet for me +sometime, if only in my coffin." +</p> + +<p> +As I failed to see that any consolatory answer was possible, I made no +reply. I only asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you walk into Mr. Craven's office, Miss Blake?" +</p> + +<p> +"Now, I wonder," she said, "what good you think walking into his office +will do me!" +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, she accepted the invitation. I have, in the course of +years, seen many persons suffering from heat, but I never did see any +human being in such a state as Miss Blake was that day. +</p> + +<p> +Her face was a pure, rich red, from temple to chin; it resembled nothing +so much as a brick which had been out for a long time, first in the sun +and the wind, and then in a succession of heavy showers of rain. She +looked weather-beaten, and sun-burnt, and sprayed with salt-water, all +at once. Her eyes were a lighter blue than I previously thought eyes +could be. Her cheek-bones stood out more prominently than I had thought +cheek-bones capable of doing. Her mouth—not quite a bad one, by the +way—opened wider than any within my experience; and her teeth, white +and exposed, were suggestive of a set of tombstones planted outside a +stonemason's shop, or an upper and lower set exhibited at the entrance +to a dentist's operating-room. Poor dear Miss Blake, she and those +pronounced teeth parted company long ago, and a much more becoming +set—which she got exceedingly cheap, by agreeing with the maker to +"send the whole of the city of London to her, if he liked"—now occupy +their place. +</p> + +<p> +But on that especial morning they were very prominent. Everything, in +fact, about the lady, or belonging to her, seemed exaggerated, as if the +heat of the weather had induced a tropical growth of her mental and +bodily peculiarities. Her bonnet was crooked beyond even the ordinary +capacity of Miss Blake's head-gear; the strings were rolled up till they +looked like ropes which had been knotted under her chin. A veil, as +large and black as a pirate's flag, floated down her back; her shawl was +at sixes and sevens; one side of her dress had got torn from the bodice, +and trailed on the ground leaving a broadly-marked line of dust on the +carpet. She looked as if she had no petticoats on; and her boots—those +were the days ere side-springs and buttons obtained—were one laced +unevenly, and the other tied on with a piece of ribbon. +</p> + +<p> +As for her gloves, they were in the state we always beheld them; if she +ever bought a new pair (which I do not believe), she never treated us to +a sight of them till they had been long past decent service. They never +were buttoned, to begin with; they had a wrinkled and haggard +appearance, as if from extreme old age. If their colour had originally +been lavender, they were always black with dirt; if black, they were +white with wear. +</p> + +<p> +As a bad job, she had, apparently, years before, given up putting a +stitch in the ends of the fingers, when a stitch gave way; and the +consequence was that we were perfectly familiar with Miss Blake's +nails—and those nails looked as if, at an early period of her life, a +hammer had been brought heavily down upon them. Mrs. Elmsdale might well +be a beauty, for she had taken not only her own share of the good looks +of the family, but her sister's also. +</p> + +<p> +We used often, at the office, to marvel why Miss Blake ever wore a +collar, or a tucker, or a frill, or a pair of cuffs. So far as clean +linen was concerned, she would have appeared infinitely brighter and +fresher had she and female frippery at once parted company. Her laces +were always in tatters, her collars soiled, her cuffs torn, and her +frills limp. I wonder what the natives thought of her in France! In +London, we decided—and accurately, I believe—that Miss Blake, in the +solitude of her own chamber, washed and got-up her cambrics and fine +linen—and it was a "get-up" and a "put-on" as well. +</p> + +<p> +Had any other woman, dressed like Miss Blake, come to our office, I fear +the clerks would not have been over-civil to her. But Miss Blake was our +own, our very own. She had grown to be as our very flesh and blood. We +did not love her, but she was associated with us by the closest ties +that can subsist between lawyer and client. Had anything happened to +Miss Blake, we should, in the event of her death, have gone in a body to +her funeral, and felt a want in our lives for ever after. +</p> + +<p> +But Miss Blake had not the slightest intention of dying: we were not +afraid of that calamity. The only thing we really did dread was that +some day she might insist upon laying the blame of River Hall remaining +uninhabited on our shoulders, and demand that Mr. Craven should pay her +the rent out of his own pocket. +</p> + +<p> +We knew if she took that, or any other pecuniary matter, seriously in +hand, she would carry it through; and, between jest and earnest, we were +wont to speculate whether, in the end, it might not prove cheaper to our +firm if Mr. Craven were to farm that place, and pay Miss Blake's niece +an annuity of say one hundred a year. +</p> + +<p> +Ultimately we decided that it would, but that such a scheme was +impracticable, because Miss Blake would always think we were making a +fortune out of River Hall, and give us no peace till she had a share of +the profit. +</p> + +<p> +For a time, Miss Blake—after unfastening her bonnet-strings, and taking +out her brooch and throwing back her shawl—sat fanning herself with a +dilapidated glove, and saying, "Oh dear! oh dear! what is to become of +me I cannot imagine." But, at length, finding I was not to be betrayed +into questioning, she observed: +</p> + +<p> +"If William Craven knew the distress I am in, he would not be out of +town enjoying himself, I'll be bound." +</p> + +<p> +"I am quite certain he would not," I answered, boldly. "But as he is +away, is there nothing we can do for you?" +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head mournfully. "You're all a parcel of boys and children +together," was her comprehensive answer. +</p> + +<p> +"But there is our manager, Mr. Taylor," I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"Him!" she exclaimed. "Now, if you don't want me to walk out of the +office and never set foot in it again, don't talk to me about Taylor." +</p> + +<p> +"Has Mr. Taylor offended you?" I ventured to inquire. +</p> + +<p> +"Lads of your age should not ask too many questions," she replied. "What +I have against Taylor is nothing to you; only don't make me desperate by +mentioning his name." +</p> + +<p> +I hastened to assure her that it should never be uttered by me again in +her presence, and there ensued a pause, which she filled by looking +round the office and taking a mental inventory of everything it +contained. +</p> + +<p> +Eventually, her survey ended in this remark, "And he can go out of town +as well, and keep a brougham for his wife, and draw them daughters of +his out like figures in a fashion-book, and my poor sister's child +living in a two-pair lodging." +</p> + +<p> +"I fear, Miss Blake," I ventured, "that something is the matter at +River Hall." +</p> + +<p> +"You fear, do you, young man?" she returned. "You ought to get a +first prize for guessing. As if anything else could ever bring me +back to London." +</p> + +<p> +"Can I be of no service to you in the matter?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you can, but you may as well see his letter." And diving +into the depths of her pocket, she produced Colonel Morris' +communication, which was very short, but very much to the purpose. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + "Not wishing," he said, "to behave in any unhandsome manner, I send + you herewith" (herewith meant the keys of River Hall and his letter) + "a cheque for one half-year's rent. You must know that, had I been + aware of the antecedents of the place, I should never have become + your tenant; and I must say, considering I have a wife in delicate + health, and young children, the deception practised by your lawyers + in concealing the fact that no previous occupant has been able to + remain in the house, seems most unpardonable. I am a soldier, and, + to me, these trade tricks appear dishonourable. Still, as I + understand your position is an exceptional one, I am willing to + forgive the wrong which has been done, and to pay six months' rent + for a house I shall no longer occupy. In the event of these + concessions appearing insufficient, I beg to enclose the names of my + solicitors, and have the honour, madam, to remain +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + "Your most obedient servant,<br /> +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + "HERCULES MORRIS."<br /> +</p> + +<p> +In order to gain time, I read this letter twice over; then, +diplomatically, as I thought, I said: +</p> + +<p> +"What are you going to do, Miss Blake?" +</p> + +<p> +"What are <i>you</i> going to do, is much nearer the point, I am thinking!" +retorted that lady. "Do you imagine there is so much pleasure or profit +in keeping a lawyer, that people want to do lawyer's work for +themselves?" +</p> + +<p> +Which really was hard upon us all, considering that so long as she +could do her work for herself, Miss Blake ignored both Mr. Craven and +his clerks. +</p> + +<p> +Not a shilling of money would she ever, if she could help it, permit to +pass through our hands—not the slightest chance did she ever +voluntarily give Mr. Craven of recouping himself those costs or loans in +which her acquaintance involved her sister's former suitor. +</p> + +<p> +Had he felt any inclination—which I am quite certain he never did—to +deduct Miss Helena's indebtedness, as represented by her aunt, out of +Miss Helena's income, he could not have done it. The tenant's money +usually went straight into Miss Blake's hands. +</p> + +<p> +What she did with it, Heaven only knows. I know she did not buy +herself gloves! +</p> + +<p> +Twirling the Colonel's letter about, I thought the position over. +</p> + +<p> +"What, then," I asked, "do you wish us to do?" +</p> + +<p> +Habited as I have attempted to describe, Miss Blake sat at one side of a +library-table. In, I flatter myself, a decent suit of clothes, washed, +brushed, shaved, I sat on the other. To ordinary observers, I know I +must have seemed much the best man of the two—yet Miss Blake got the +better of me. +</p> + +<p> +She, that dilapidated, red-hot, crumpled-collared, fingerless-gloved +woman, looked me over from head to foot, as I conceived, though my boots +were hidden away under the table, and I declare—I swear—she put me out +of countenance. I felt small under the stare of a person with whom I +would not then have walked through Hyde Park in the afternoon for almost +any amount of money which could have been offered to me. +</p> + +<p> +"Though you are only a clerk," she said at length, apparently quite +unconscious of the effect she had produced, "you seem a very decent sort +of young man. As Mr. Craven is out of the way, suppose you go and see +that Morris man, and ask him what he means by his impudent letter." +</p> + +<p> +I rose to the bait. Being in Mr. Craven's employment, it is unnecessary +to say I, in common with every other person about the place, thought I +could manage his business for him very much better than he could manage +it for himself; and it had always been my own personal conviction that +if the letting of the Uninhabited House were entrusted to me, the place +would not stand long empty. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake's proposition was, therefore, most agreeable; but still, I +did not at once swallow her hook. Mr. Craven, I felt, might scarcely +approve of my taking it upon myself to call upon Colonel Morris while +Mr. Taylor was able and willing to venture upon such a step, and I +therefore suggested to our client the advisability of first asking Mr. +Craven's opinion about the affair. +</p> + +<p> +"And keep me in suspense while you are writing and answering and running +up a bill as long as Midsummer Day," she retorted. "No, thank you. If +you don't think my business worth your attention, I'll go to somebody +that may be glad of it." And she began tying her strings and feeling +after her shawl in a manner which looked very much indeed like carrying +out her threat. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment I made up my mind to consult Taylor as to what ought to +be done. So I appeased Miss Blake by assuring her, in a diplomatic +manner, that Colonel Morris should be visited, and promising to +communicate the result of the interview by letter. +</p> + +<p> +"That you won't," she answered. "I'll be here to-morrow to know what he +has to say for himself. He is just tired of the house, like the rest of +them, and wants to be rid of his bargain." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not quite sure of that," I said, remembering my principal's +suggestion. "It is strange, if there really is nothing objectionable +about the house, that <i>no one</i> can be found to stay in it. Mr. Craven +has hinted that he fancies some evil-disposed person must be playing +tricks, in order to frighten tenants away." +</p> + +<p> +"It is likely enough," she agreed. "Robert Elmsdale had plenty of +enemies and few friends; but that is no reason why we should +starve, is it?" +</p> + +<p> +I failed to see the logical sequence of Miss Blake's remark, +nevertheless I did not dare to tell her so; and agreed it was no reason +why she and her niece should be driven into that workhouse which she +frequently declared they "must come to." +</p> + +<p> +"Remember," were her parting words, "I shall be here to-morrow morning +early, and expect you to have good news for me." +</p> + +<p> +Inwardly resolving not to be in the way, I said I hoped there would be +good news for her, and went in search of Taylor. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Blake has been here," I began. "THE HOUSE is empty again. Colonel +Morris has sent her half a year's rent, the keys, and the address of his +solicitors. He says we have acted disgracefully in the matter, and she +wants me to go and see him, and declares she will be back here first +thing to-morrow morning to know what he has to say for himself. What +ought I to do?" +</p> + +<p> +Before Mr. Taylor answered my question, he delivered himself of a +comprehensive anathema which included Miss Blake, River Hall, the late +owner, and ourselves. He further wished he might be essentially +etceteraed if he believed there was another solicitor, besides Mr. +Craven, in London who would allow such a hag to haunt his offices. +</p> + +<p> +"Talk about River Hall being haunted," he finished; "it is we who are +witch-ridden, I call it, by that old Irishwoman. She ought to be burnt +at Smithfield. I'd be at the expense of the faggots!" +</p> + +<p> +"What have you and Miss Blake quarrelled about?" I inquired. "You say +she is a witch, and she has made me take a solemn oath never to mention +your name again in her presence." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd keep her presence out of these offices, if I was Mr. Craven," he +answered. "She has cost us more than the whole freehold of River Hall +is worth." +</p> + +<p> +Something in his manner, more than in his words, made me comprehend that +Miss Blake had borrowed money from him, and not repaid it, so I did not +press for further explanation, but only asked him once again what I +ought to do about calling upon Colonel Morris. +</p> + +<p> +"Call, and be hanged, if you like!" was the reply; and as Mr. Taylor was +not usually a man given to violent language, I understood that Miss +Blake's name acted upon his temper with the same magical effect as a red +rag does upon that of a turkey-cock. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap04"></a> +4. MYSELF AND MISS BLAKE +</h3> + +<p> +Colonel Morris, after leaving River Hall, had migrated temporarily to a +fashionable West End hotel, and was, when I called to see him, partaking +of tiffin in the bosom of his family, instead of at his club. +</p> + +<p> +As it was notorious that he and Mrs. Morris failed to lead the most +harmonious of lives, I did not feel surprised to find him in an +extremely bad temper. +</p> + +<p> +In person, short, dapper, wiry, thin, and precise, his manner matched +his appearance. He had martinet written on every square foot of his +figure. His moustache was fiercely waxed, his shirt-collar inflexible, +his backbone stiff, while his shoulder-blades met flat and even behind. +He held his chin a little up in the air, and his walk was less a march +than a strut. +</p> + +<p> +He came into the room where I had been waiting for him, as I fancied he +might have come on a wet, cold morning to meet an awkward-squad. He held +the card I sent for his inspection in his hand, and referred to it, +after he had looked me over with a supercilious glance. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Patterson, from Messrs. Craven and Son," he read slowly out loud, +and then added: +</p> + +<p> +"May I inquire what Mr. Patterson from Messrs. Craven and Son +wants with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I come from Miss Blake, sir," I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +"It is here written that you come from Messrs. Craven and Son," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"So I do, sir—upon Miss Blake's business. She is a client of ours, as +you may remember." +</p> + +<p> +"I do remember. Go on." +</p> + +<p> +He would not sit down himself or ask me to be seated, so we stood +throughout the interview. I with my hat in my hand, he twirling his +moustache or scrutinising his nails while he talked. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Blake has received a letter from you, sir, and has requested me to +ask you for an explanation of it." +</p> + +<p> +"I have no further explanation to give," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"But as you took the house for two years, we cannot advise Miss Blake to +allow you to relinquish possession in consideration of your having paid +her six months' rent." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well. Then you can advise her to fight the matter, as I suppose +you will. I am prepared to fight it." +</p> + +<p> +"We never like fighting, if a matter can be arranged amicably," I +answered. "Mr. Craven is at present out of town; but I know I am only +speaking his words, when I say we shall be glad to advise Miss Blake to +accept any reasonable proposition which you may feel inclined to make." +</p> + +<p> +"I have sent her half a year's rent," was his reply; "and I have +refrained from prosecuting you all for conspiracy, as I am told I might +have done. Lawyers, I am aware, admit they have no consciences, and I +can make some allowance for a person in Miss Blake's position, +otherwise." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir?" I said, interrogatively. +</p> + +<p> +"I should never have paid one penny. It has, I find, been a well-known +fact to Mr. Craven, as well as to Miss Blake, that no tenant can remain +in River Hall. When my wife was first taken ill there—in consequence of +the frightful shock she received—I sent for the nearest medical man, +and he refused to come; absolutely sent me a note, saying, 'he was very +sorry, but he must decline to attend Mrs. Morris. Doubtless, she had her +own physician, who would be happy to devote himself to the case.'" +</p> + +<p> +"And what did you do?" I asked, my pulses tingling with awakened +curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +"Do!" he repeated, pleased, perhaps, to find so appreciative a listener. +"I sent, of course, for the best advice to be had in London, and I went +to the local doctor—a man who keeps a surgery and dispenses +medicines—myself, to ask what he meant by returning such an insolent +message in answer to my summons. And what do you suppose he said by way +of apology?" +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot imagine," I replied. +</p> + +<p> +"He said he would not for ten times over the value of all the River +Hall patients, attend a case in the house again. 'No person can live in +it,' he went on, 'and keep his, her, or its health. Whether it is the +river, or the drains, or the late owner, or the devil, I have not an +idea. I can only tell you no one has been able to remain in it since +Mr. Elmsdale's death, and if I attend a case there, of course I say, +Get out of this at once. Then comes Miss Blake and threatens me with +assault and battery—swears she will bring an action against me for +libelling the place; declares I wish to drive her and her niece to the +workhouse, and asserts I am in league with some one who wants to keep +the house vacant, and I am sick of it. Get what doctor you choose, but +don't send for me.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir?" I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"Well! I don't consider it well at all. Here am I, a man returning to +his native country—and a beastly country it is!—after nearly thirty +years' absence, and the first transaction upon which I engage proves a +swindle. Yes, a swindle, Mr. Patterson. I went to you in all good faith, +took that house at your own rent, thought I had got a desirable home, +and believed I was dealing with respectable people, and now I find I was +utterly deceived, both as regards the place and your probity. You knew +the house was uninhabitable, and yet you let it to me." +</p> + +<p> +"I give you my word," I said, "that we really do not know yet in what +way the house is uninhabitable. It is a good house, as you know; it is +well furnished; the drainage is perfect; so far as we are concerned, we +do not believe a fault can be found with the place. Still, it has been a +fact that tenants will not stay in it, and we were therefore glad to let +it to a gentleman like yourself, who would, we expected, prove above +subscribing to that which can only be a vulgar prejudice." +</p> + +<p> +"What is a vulgar prejudice?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"The idea that River Hall is haunted," I replied. +</p> + +<p> +"River Hall is haunted, young man," he said, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +"By what?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"By some one who cannot rest in his grave," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Colonel Morris," I said, "some one <i>must</i> be playing tricks in +the house." +</p> + +<p> +"If so, that some one does not belong to this world," he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean really and seriously to tell me you believe in ghosts?" I +asked, perhaps a little scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +"I do, and if you had lived in River Hall, you would believe in them +too," he replied. "I will tell you," he went on, "what I saw in the +house myself. You know the library?" +</p> + +<p> +I nodded in assent. We did know the library. There our trouble seemed to +have taken up its abode. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you aware lights have frequently been reflected from that room, +when no light has actually been in it?" +</p> + +<p> +I could only admit this had occasionally proved a ground of what we +considered unreasonable complaint. +</p> + +<p> +"One evening," went on the Colonel, "I determined to test the matter for +myself. Long before dusk I entered the room and examined it +thoroughly—saw to the fastenings of the windows, drew up the blinds, +locked the door, and put the key in my pocket. After dinner I took a +cigar and walked up and down the grass path beside the river, until +dark. There was no light—not a sign of light of any kind, as I turned +once more and walked up the path again; but as I was retracing my steps +I saw that the room was brilliantly illuminated. I rushed to the nearest +window and looked in. The gas was all ablaze, the door of the strong +room open, the table strewed with papers, while in an office-chair drawn +close up to the largest drawer, a man was seated counting over +bank-notes. He had a pile of them before him, and I distinctly saw that +he wetted his fingers in order to separate them." +</p> + +<p> +"Most extraordinary!" I exclaimed. I could not decently have said +anything less; but I confess that I had in my recollection the fact of +Colonel Morris having dined. +</p> + +<p> +"The most extraordinary part of the story is still to come," he +remarked. "I hurried at once into the house, unlocked the door, found +the library in pitch darkness, and when I lit the gas the strong room +was closed; there was no office-chair in the room, no papers were on the +table—everything, in fact, was precisely in the same condition as I had +left it a few hours before. Now, no person in the flesh could have +performed such a feat as that." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot agree with you there," I ventured. "It seems to me less +difficult to believe the whole thing a trick, than to attribute the +occurrence to supernatural agency. In fact, while I do not say it is +impossible for ghosts to be, I cannot accept the fact of their +existence." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I can, then," retorted the Colonel. "Why, sir, once at the Cape +of Good Hope—" but there he paused. Apparently he recollected just in +time that the Cape of Good Hope was a long way from River Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"And Mrs. Morris," I suggested, leading him back to the banks of the +Thames. "You mentioned some shock—" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said, frankly. "She met the same person on the staircase I saw +in the library. He carried in one hand a lighted candle, and in the +other a bundle of bank-notes. He never looked at her as he passed—never +turned his head to the spot where she stood gazing after him in a +perfect access of terror, but walked quietly downstairs, crossed the +hall, and went straight into the library without opening the door. She +fainted dead away, and has never known an hour's good health since." +</p> + +<p> +"According to all accounts, she had not before, or good temper either," +I thought; but I only said, "You had told Mrs. Morris, I presume, of +your adventure in the library?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," he answered; "I had not; I did not mention it to anyone except a +brother officer, who dined with me the next evening." +</p> + +<p> +"Your conversation with him might have been overheard, I +suppose," I urged. +</p> + +<p> +"It is possible, but scarcely probable," he replied. "At all events, I +am quite certain it never reached my wife's ears, or she would not have +stayed another night in the house." +</p> + +<p> +I stood for a few moments irresolute, but then I spoke. I told him how +much we—meaning Messrs. Craven and Son—his manager and his cashier, +and his clerks, regretted the inconvenience to which he had been put; +delicately I touched upon the concern we felt at hearing of Mrs. Morris' +illness. But, I added, I feared his explanation, courteous and ample as +it had been, would not satisfy Miss Blake, and trusted he might, upon +consideration, feel disposed to compromise the matter. +</p> + +<p> +"We," I added, "will be only too happy to recommend our client to accept +any reasonable proposal you may think it well to make." +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon it suddenly dawned upon the Colonel that he had been +showing me all his hand, and forthwith he adopted a very natural +course. He ordered me to leave the room and the hotel, and not to +show my face before him again at my peril. And I obeyed his +instructions to the letter. +</p> + +<p> +On the same evening of that day I took a long walk round by the +Uninhabited House. +</p> + +<p> +There it was, just as I had seen it last, with high brick walls dividing +it from the road; with its belt of forest-trees separating it from the +next residence, with its long frontage to the river, with its closed +gates and shuttered postern-door. +</p> + +<p> +The entrance to it was not from the main highway, but from a lane which +led right down to the Thames; and I went to the very bottom of that lane +and swung myself by means of a post right over the river, so that I +might get a view of the windows of the room with which so ghostly a +character was associated. The blinds were all down and the whole place +looked innocent enough. +</p> + +<p> +The strong, sweet, subtle smell of mignonette came wafted to my senses, +the odours of jessamine, roses, and myrtle floated to me on the evening +breeze. I could just catch a glimpse of the flower-gardens, radiant with +colour, full of leaf and bloom. +</p> + +<p> +"No haunted look there," I thought. "The house is right enough, but some +one must have determined to keep it empty." And then I swung myself back +into the lane again, and the shadow of the high brick wall projected +itself across my mind as it did across my body. +</p> + +<p> +"Is this place to let again, do you know?" said a voice in my ear, as I +stood looking at the private door which gave a separate entrance to that +evil-reputed library. +</p> + +<p> +The question was a natural one, and the voice not unpleasant, yet I +started, having noticed no one near me. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," said the owner of the voice. "Nervous, I fear!" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not at all, only my thoughts were wandering. I beg your pardon—I +do not know whether the place is to let or not." +</p> + +<p> +"A good house?" This might have been interrogative, or uttered as an +assertion, but I took it as the former, and answered accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, a good house—a very good house, indeed," I said. +</p> + +<p> +"It is often vacant, though," he said, with a light laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Through no fault of the house," I added. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! it is the fault of the tenants, is it?" he remarked, laughing once +more. "The owners, I should think, must be rather tired of their +property by this time." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know that," I replied. "They live in hope of finding a good +and sensible tenant willing to take it." +</p> + +<p> +"And equally willing to keep it, eh?" he remarked. "Well, I, perhaps, am +not much of a judge in the matter, but I should say they will have to +wait a long time first." +</p> + +<p> +"You know something about the house?" I said, interrogatively. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered, "most people about here do, I fancy—but least said +soonest mended"; and as by this time we had reached the top of the lane, +he bade me a civil good-evening, and struck off in a westerly direction. +</p> + +<p> +Though the light of the setting sun shone full in my face, and I had to +shade my eyes in order to enable me to see at all, moved by some feeling +impossible to analyse, I stood watching that retreating figure. +Afterwards I could have sworn to the man among ten thousand. +</p> + +<p> +A man of about fifty, well and plainly dressed, who did not appear to be +in ill-health, yet whose complexion had a blanched look, like forced +sea-kale; a man of under, rather than over middle height, not of slight +make, but lean as if the flesh had been all worn off his bones; a man +with sad, anxious, outlooking, abstracted eyes, with a nose slightly +hooked, without a trace of whisker, with hair thin and straight and +flaked with white, active and lithe in his movements, a swift walker, +though he had a slight halt. While looking at him thrown up in relief +against the glowing western sky, I noticed, what had previously escaped +my attention, that he was a little deformed. His right shoulder was +rather higher than the other. A man with a story in his memory, I +imagined; a man who had been jilted by the girl he loved, or who had +lost her by death, or whose wife had proved faithless; whose life, at +all events, had been marred by a great trouble. So, in my folly, I +decided; for I was young then, and romantic, and had experienced some +sorrow myself connected with pecuniary matters. +</p> + +<p> +For the latter reason, it never perhaps occurred to me to associate the +trouble of my new acquaintance, if he could be so called, with money +annoyances. I knew, or thought I knew, at all events, the expression +loss of fortune stamps on a man's face; and the look which haunted me +for days after had nothing in it of discontent, or self-assertion, or +struggling gentility, or vehement protest against the decrees of +fortune. Still less was it submissive. As I have said, it haunted me for +days, then the memory grew less vivid, then I forgot the man altogether. +Indeed, we shortly became so absorbed in the fight between Miss Blake +and Colonel Morris, that we had little time to devote to the +consideration of other matters. +</p> + +<p> +True to her promise, Miss Blake appeared next morning in Buckingham +Street. Without bestowing upon me even the courtesy of "good morning," +she plunged into the subject next her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you see him?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +I told her I had. I repeated much of what he said; I assured her he +was determined to fight the matter, and that although I did really not +think any jury would give a verdict in his favour, still I believed, +if the matter came into court, it would prevent our ever letting the +house again. +</p> + +<p> +"I should strongly recommend you, Miss Blake," I finished, "to keep what +he offers, and let us try and find another tenant." +</p> + +<p> +"And who asked you to recommend anything, you fast young man?" she +demanded. "I am sure I did not, and I am very sure Mr. Craven would not +be best pleased to know his clerks were setting themselves up higher +than their master. You would never find William Craven giving himself +airs such as you young whipper-snappers think make you seem of some +consequence. I just tell him what I want done, and he does it, and you +will please to do the same, and serve a writ on that villain without an +hour's delay." +</p> + +<p> +I asked on what grounds we were to serve the writ. I pointed out that +Colonel Morris did not owe her a penny, and would not owe her a penny +for some months to come; and in reply she said she would merely inquire +if I meant that she and her poor niece were to go to the workhouse. +</p> + +<p> +To this I answered that the amount already remitted by Colonel Morris +would prevent such a calamity, but she stopped my attempt at consolation +by telling me not to talk about things I did not understand. +</p> + +<p> +"Give me William Craven's address," she added, "and I will write to +him direct. I wonder what he means by leaving a parcel of ignorant +boys to attend to his clients while he is away enjoying himself! Give +me his address, and some paper and an envelope, and I can write my +letter here." +</p> + +<p> +I handed her the paper and the envelope, and placed pen and ink +conveniently before her, but I declined to give her Mr. Craven's +address. We would forward the letter, I said; but when Mr. Craven went +away for his holiday, he was naturally anxious to leave business behind +as much as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Then Miss Blake took steady aim, and fired at me. Broadside after +broadside did she pour into my unprotected ears; she opened the vials of +her wrath and overwhelmed me with reproaches; she raked up all the +grievances she had for years been cherishing against England, and by +some sort of verbal legerdemain made me responsible for every evil she +could recollect as ever having happened to her. Her sister's marriage, +her death, Mr. Elmsdale's suicide, the unsatisfactory state of his +affairs, the prejudice against River Hall, the defection of Colonel +Morris—all these things she laid at my door, and insisted on making me +responsible for them. +</p> + +<p> +"And now," she finished, pushing back her bonnet and pulling off her +gloves, "I'll just write my opinion of you to Mr. Craven, and I'll wait +till you direct the envelope, and I'll go with you to the post, and I'll +see you put the letter in the box. If you and your fine Colonel Morris +think you can frighten or flatter me, you are both much mistaken, I can +tell you that!" +</p> + +<p> +I did not answer her. I was too greatly affronted to express what I felt +in words. I sat on the other side of the table—for I would not leave +her alone in Mr. Craven's office—sulking, while she wrote her letter, +which she did in a great, fat, splashing sort of hand, with every other +word underlined; and when she had done, and tossed the missive over to +me, I directed it, took my hat, and prepared to accompany her to the +Charing Cross office. +</p> + +<p> +We went down the staircase together in silence, up Buckingham Street, +across the Strand, and so to Charing Cross, where she saw me drop the +letter into the box. All this time we did not exchange a syllable, but +when, after raising my hat, I was about to turn away, she seized hold of +my arm, and said, "Don't let us part in bad blood. Though you are only a +clerk, you have got your feelings, no doubt, and if in my temper I hurt +them, I am sorry. Can I say more? You are a decent lad enough, as times +go in England, and my bark is worse than my bite. I didn't write a word +about you to William Craven. Shake hands, and don't bear malice to a +poor lonely woman." +</p> + +<p> +Thus exhorted, I took her hand and shook it, and then, in token of +entire amity, she told me she had forgotten to bring her purse with her +and could I let her have a sovereign. She would pay me, she declared +solemnly, the first day she came again to the office. +</p> + +<p> +This of course I did not believe in the least, nevertheless I gave +her what she required—and Heaven knows, sovereigns were scarce +enough with me then—thankfully, and felt sincerely obliged to her +for making herself my debtor. Miss Blake did sometimes ruffle one's +feathers most confoundedly, and yet I knew it would have grieved me +had we parted in enmity. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, now, when I look upon her quiet and utterly respectable old +age—when I contemplate her pathetic grey hair and conventional lace +cap—when I view her clothed like other people and in her right mind, I +am very glad indeed to remember I had no second thought about that +sovereign, but gave it to her—with all the veins of my heart, as she +would have emphasised the proceeding. +</p> + +<p> +"Though you have no name to speak of," observed Miss Blake as she +pocketed the coin, "I think there must be some sort of blood in you. I +knew Pattersons once who were connected by marriage with a great duke in +the west of Ireland. Can you say if by chance you can trace relationship +to any of them?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can say most certainly not, Miss Blake," I replied. "We are +Pattersons of nowhere and relations of no one." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," remarked the lady, pityingly, "you can't help that, poor +lad. And if you attend to your duties, you may yet be a rich City +alderman." +</p> + +<p> +With which comfort she left me, and wended her homeward way through St. +Martin's Lane and the Seven Dials. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap05"></a> +5. THE TRIAL +</h3> + +<p> +Next day but one Mr. Craven astonished us all by walking into the office +about ten o'clock. He looked stout and well, sunburnt to a degree, and +all the better physically for his trip to the seaside. We were +unfeignedly glad to see him. Given a good employer, and it must be an +extremely bad employé who rejoices in his absence. If we were not +saints, we were none of us very black sheep, and accordingly, from the +porter to the managing clerk, our faces brightened at sight of our +principal. +</p> + +<p> +But after the first genial "how are you" and "good morning," Mr. +Craven's face told tales: he had come back out of sorts. He was vexed +about Miss Blake's letter, and, astonishing to relate, he was angry with +me for having called upon Colonel Morris. +</p> + +<p> +"You take too much upon you, Patterson," he remarked. "It is a growing +habit with you, and you must try to check it." +</p> + +<p> +I did not answer him by a word; my heart seemed in my mouth; I felt as +if I was choking. I only inclined my head in token that I heard and +understood, and assented; then, having, fortunately, work to attend to +out of doors, I seized an early opportunity of slipping down the +staircase and walking off to Chancery Lane. When I returned, after +hours, to Buckingham Street, one of the small boys in the outer office +told me I was to go to Mr. Craven's room directly. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll catch it," remarked the young fiend. "He has asked for you a +dozen times, at least." +</p> + +<p> +"What can be wrong now?" I thought, as I walked straight along the +passage to Mr. Craven's office. +</p> + +<p> +"Patterson," he said, as I announced my return. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"I spoke hastily to you this morning, and I regret having done so." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! sir," I cried. And that was all. We were better friends than ever. +Do you wonder that I liked my principal? If so, it is only because I am +unable to portray him as he really was. The age of chivalry is past; but +still it is no exaggeration to say I would have died cheerfully if my +dying could have served Mr. Craven. +</p> + +<p> +Life holds me now by many and many a nearer and dearer tie than was the +case in those days so far and far away; nevertheless, I would run any +risk, encounter any peril, if by so doing I could serve the man who in +my youth treated me with a kindness far beyond my deserts. +</p> + +<p> +He did not, when he came suddenly to town in this manner, stop at +his own house, which was, on such occasions, given over to charwomen +and tradespeople of all descriptions; but he put up at an +old-fashioned family hotel where, on that especial evening, he asked +me to dine with him. +</p> + +<p> +Over dessert he opened his mind to me on the subject of the "Uninhabited +House." He said the evil was becoming one of serious magnitude. He +declared he could not imagine what the result might prove. "With all the +will in the world," he said, "to assist Miss Blake and that poor child, +I cannot undertake to provide for them. Something must be done in the +affair, and I am sure I cannot see what that something is to be. Since +Mr. Elmsdale bought the place, the neighbourhood has gone down. If we +sold the freehold as it stands, I fear we should not get more than a +thousand pounds for it, and a thousand pounds would not last Miss Blake +three years; as for supposing she could live on the interest, that is +out of the question. The ground might be cut up and let for business +purposes, of course, but that would be a work of time. I confess, I do +not know what to think about the matter or how to act in it." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you suppose the place really is haunted?" I ventured to inquire. +</p> + +<p> +"Haunted?—pooh! nonsense," answered Mr. Craven, pettishly. "Do I +suppose this room is haunted; do I believe my offices are haunted? No +sane man has faith in any folly of the kind; but the place has got a bad +name; I suspect it is unhealthy, and the tenants, when they find that +out, seize on the first excuse which offers. It is known we have +compromised a good many tenancies, and I am afraid we shall have to +fight this case, if only to show we do not intend being patient for +ever. Besides, we shall exhaust the matter: we shall hear what the +ghost-seers have to say for themselves on oath. There is little doubt of +our getting a verdict, for the British juryman is, as a rule, not +imaginative." +</p> + +<p> +"I think we shall get a verdict," I agreed; "but I fancy we shall never +get another tenant." +</p> + +<p> +"There are surely as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it," he +answered, with a smile; "and we shall come across some worthy country +squire, possessed of pretty daughters, who will be delighted to find so +cheap and sweet a nest for his birds, when they want to be near London." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish sir," I said, "you would see Colonel Morris yourself. I am quite +certain that every statement he made to me is true in his belief. I do +not say, I believe him; I only say, what he told me justifies the +inference that some one is playing a clever game in River Hall," and +then I repeated in detail all the circumstances Colonel Morris had +communicated to me, not excepting the wonderful phenomenon witnessed by +Mr. Morris, of a man walking through a closed door. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven listened to me in silence, then he said, "I will not see +Colonel Morris. What you tell me only confirms my opinion that we must +fight this question. If he and his witnesses adhere to the story you +repeat, on oath, I shall then have some tangible ground upon which to +stand with Miss Blake. If they do not—and, personally, I feel satisfied +no one who told such a tale could stand the test of cross-examination—we +shall then have defeated the hidden enemy who, as I believe, lurks behind +all this. Miss Blake is right in what she said to you: Robert Elmsdale +must have had many a good hater. Whether he ever inspired that different +sort of dislike which leads a man to carry on a war in secret, and try to +injure this opponent's family after death, I have no means of knowing. But +we must test the matter now, Patterson, and I think you had better call +upon Colonel Morris and tell him so." +</p> + +<p> +This service, however, to Mr. Craven's intense astonishment, I +utterly declined. +</p> + +<p> +I told him—respectfully, of course: under no possible conditions of +life could I have spoken other than respectfully to a master I loved so +well—that if a message were to be delivered <i>viva voce</i> from our +office, it could not be so delivered by me. +</p> + +<p> +I mentioned the fact that I felt no desire to be kicked downstairs. I +declared that I should consider it an unseemly thing for me to engage in +personal conflict with a gentleman of Colonel Morris's years and social +position, and, as a final argument, I stated solemnly that I believed no +number of interviews would change the opinions of our late tenant or +induce him to alter his determination. +</p> + +<p> +"He says he will fight," I remarked, as a finish to my speech, "and I am +confident he will till he drops." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," said Mr. Craven, "I suppose he must do so then; but +meantime it is all very hard upon me." +</p> + +<p> +And, indeed, so it proved; what with Miss Blake, who, of course, +required frequent advances to sustain her strength during the +approaching ordeal; what with policemen, who could not "undertake to be +always a-watching River Hall"; what with watchmen, who kept their vigils +in the nearest public-house as long as it was open, and then peacefully +returned home to sleep; what with possible tenants, who came to us +imagining the place was to let, and whom we referred to Colonel Morris, +who dismissed them, each and all, with a tale which disenchanted them +with the "desirable residence"—it was all exceeding hard upon Mr. +Craven and his clerks till the quarter turned when we could take action +about the matter. +</p> + +<p> +Before the new year was well commenced, we were in the heat of the +battle. We had written to Colonel Morris, applying for one quarter's +rent of River Hall. A disreputable blackguard of a solicitor would have +served him with a writ; but we were eminently respectable: not at the +bidding of her most gracious Majesty, whose name we invoked on many and +many of our papers, would Mr. Craven have dispensed with the +preliminary letter; and I feel bound to say I follow in his footsteps +in that respect. +</p> + +<p> +To this notice, Colonel Morris replied, referring us to his solicitors. +</p> + +<p> +We wrote to them, eliciting a reply to the effect that they would +receive service of a writ. We served that writ, and then, as Colonel +Morris intended to fight, instructed counsel. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the "Uninhabited House," and the furniture it contained, was, +as Mr. Taylor tersely expressed the matter, "Going to the devil." +</p> + +<p> +We could not help that, however—war was put upon us, and go to war we +felt we must. +</p> + +<p> +Which was all extremely hard upon Mr. Craven. To my knowledge, he had +already, in three months, advanced thirty pounds to Miss Blake, besides +allowing her to get into his debt for counsel's fees, and costs out of +pocket, and cab hire, and Heaven knows what besides—with a +problematical result also. Colonel Morris' solicitors were sparing no +expenses to crush us. Clearly they, in a blessed vision, beheld an +enormous bill, paid without difficulty or question. Fifty guineas here +or there did not signify to their client, whilst to us—well, really, +let a lawyer be as kind and disinterested as he will, fifty guineas +disbursed upon the suit of an utterly insolvent, or persistently +insolvent, client means something eminently disagreeable to him. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, we were all heartily glad to know the day of war was come. +Body and soul, we all went in for Miss Blake, and Helena, and the +"Uninhabited House." Even Mr. Taylor relented, and was to be seen +rushing about with papers in hand relating to the impending suit of +Blake <i>v</i>. Morris. +</p> + +<p> +"She is a blank, blank woman," he remarked to me; "but still the case is +interesting. I don't think ghosts have ever before come into court in my +experience." +</p> + +<p> +And we were all of the same mind. We girt up our loins for the fight. +Each of us, I think, on the strength of her celebrity, lent Miss Blake a +few shillings, and one or two of our number franked her to luncheon. +</p> + +<p> +She patronized us all, I know, and said she should like to tell our +mothers they had reason to be proud of their sons. And then came a +dreadfully solemn morning, when we went to Westminster and championed +Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +Never in our memory of the lady had she appeared to such advantage as +when we met her in Edward the Confessor's Hall. She looked a little +paler than usual, and we felt her general get-up was a credit to our +establishment. She wore an immense fur tippet, which, though then of an +obsolete fashion, made her look like a three-per-cent. annuitant going +to receive her dividends. Her throat was covered with a fine white lawn +handkerchief; her dress was mercifully long enough to conceal her +boots; her bonnet was perfectly straight, and the strings tied by some +one who understood that bows should be pulled out and otherwise +fancifully manipulated. As she carried a muff as large as a big drum, +she had conceived the happy idea of dispensing altogether with gloves, +and I saw that one of the fingers she gave me to shake was adorned with +a diamond ring. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Elmsdale's," whispered Taylor to me. "It belonged to her mother." +</p> + +<p> +Hearing which, I understood Helena had superintended her aunt's toilet. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you ever see Miss Elmsdale?" I inquired of our manager. +</p> + +<p> +"Not for years," was the answer. "She bade fair to be pretty." +</p> + +<p> +"Why does not Miss Blake bring her out with her sometimes?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe she is expecting the Queen to give her assent to her marrying +the Prince of Wales," explained Taylor, "and she does not wish her to +appear much in public until after the wedding." +</p> + +<p> +The court was crammed. Somehow it had got into the papers—probably +through Colonel Morris' gossips at the club—that ours was likely to +prove a very interesting case, and though the morning was damp and +wretched, ladies and gentlemen had turned out into the fog and drizzle, +as ladies and gentlemen will when there seems the least chance of a new +sensation being provided for them. +</p> + +<p> +Further, there were lots of reporters. +</p> + +<p> +"It will be in every paper throughout the kingdom," groaned Taylor. "We +had better by far have left the Colonel alone." +</p> + +<p> +That had always been my opinion, but I only said, "Well, it is of no use +looking back now." +</p> + +<p> +I glanced at Mr. Craven, and saw he was ill at ease. We had considerable +faith in ourselves, our case, and our counsel; but, then, we could not +be blind to the fact that Colonel Morris' counsel were men very much +better known than our men—that a cloud of witnesses, thirsting to +avenge themselves for the rent we had compelled them to pay for an +uninhabitable house, were hovering about the court—(had we not seen and +recognized them in the Hall?)—that, in fact, there were two very +distinct sides to the question, one represented by Colonel Morris and +his party, and the other by Miss Blake and ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +Of course our case lay in a nutshell. We had let the place, and Colonel +Morris had agreed to take it. Colonel Morris now wanted to be rid of his +bargain, and we were determined to keep him to it. Colonel Morris said +the house was haunted, and that no one could live in it. We said the +house was not haunted, and that anybody could live in it; that River +Hall was "in every respect suited for the residence of a family of +position"—see advertisements in <i>Times</i> and <i>Morning Post</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if the reader will kindly consider the matter, it must be an +extremely difficult thing to prove, in a court of law, that a house, by +reason solely of being haunted, is unsuitable for the residence of a +gentleman of position. +</p> + +<p> +Smells, bad drainage, impure water, unhealthiness of situation, +dampness, the absence of advantages mentioned, the presence of small +game—more odious to tenants of furnished houses than ground game to +farmers—all these things had, we knew, been made pretexts for +repudiation of contracts, and often successfully, but we could find no +precedent for ghosts being held as just pleas upon which to relinquish a +tenancy; and we made sure of a favourable verdict accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +To this day, I believe that our hopes would have been justified by the +result, had some demon of mischief not put it into the head of +Taylor—who had the management of the case—that it would be a good +thing to get Miss Blake into the witness-box. +</p> + +<p> +"She will amuse the jury," he said, "and juries have always a kindly +feeling for any person who can amuse them." +</p> + +<p> +Which was all very well, and might be very true in a general way, but +Miss Blake proved the exception to his rule. +</p> + +<p> +Of course she amused the jury, in fact, she amused everyone. To get her +to give a straightforward answer to any question was simply impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Over and over again the judge explained to her that "yes" or "no" would +be amply sufficient; but all in vain. She launched out at large in +reply to our counsel, who, nevertheless, when he sat down, had gained +his point. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake declared upon oath she had never seen anything worse than +herself at River Hall, and did not believe anybody else ever had. +</p> + +<p> +She had never been there during Colonel Morris' tenancy, or she must +certainly have seen something worse than a ghost, a man ready and +anxious to "rob the orphan," and she was going to add the "widow" when +peals of laughter stopped her utterance. Miss Blake had no faith in +ghosts resident at River Hall, and if anybody was playing tricks about +the house, she should have thought a "fighting gentleman by profession" +capable of getting rid of them. +</p> + +<p> +"Unless he was afraid," added Miss Blake, with withering irony. +</p> + +<p> +Then up rose the opposition counsel, who approached her in an easy, +conversational manner. +</p> + +<p> +"And so you do not believe in ghosts, Miss Blake?" he began. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed and I don't," she answered. +</p> + +<p> +"But if we have not ghosts, what is to become of the literature of your +country?" he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what you mean, by talking about my country," said Miss +Blake, who was always proclaiming her nationality, and quarrelling with +those who discovered it without such proclamation. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean," he explained, "that all the fanciful legends and beautiful +stories for which Ireland is celebrated have their origin in the +supernatural. There are, for instance, several old families who have +their traditional banshee." +</p> + +<p> +"For that matter, we have one ourselves," agreed Miss Blake, with +conscious pride. +</p> + +<p> +At this junction our counsel interposed with a suggestion that there was +no insinuation about any banshee residing at River Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"No, the question is about a ghost, and I am coming to that. Different +countries have different usages. In Ireland, as Miss Blake admits, there +exists a very ladylike spirit, who announces the coming death of any +member of certain families. In England, we have ghosts, who appear after +the death of some members of some families. Now, Miss Blake, I want you +to exercise your memory. Do you remember a night in the November after +Mr. Elmsdale's death?" +</p> + +<p> +"I remember many nights in many months that I passed broken-hearted in +that house," she answered, composedly; but she grew very pale; and +feeling there was something unexpected behind both question and answer, +our counsel looked at us, and we looked back at him, dismayed. +</p> + +<p> +"Your niece, being nervous, slept in the same room as that occupied by +you?" continued the learned gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +"She did," said Miss Blake. Her answer was short enough, and direct +enough, at last. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, on the particular November night to which I refer, do you +recollect being awakened by Miss Elmsdale?" +</p> + +<p> +"She wakened me many a time," answered Miss Blake, and I noticed that +she looked away from her questioner, and towards the gallery. +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly so; but on one especial night she woke you, saying, her father +was walking along the passage; that she knew his step, and that she +heard his keys strike against the wall?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I remember that," said Miss Blake, with suspicious alacrity. +"She kept me up till daybreak. She was always thinking about him, +poor child." +</p> + +<p> +"Very natural indeed," commented our adversary. "And you told her not to +be foolish, I daresay, and very probably tried to reassure her by saying +one of the servants must have passed; and no doubt, being a lady +possessed of energy and courage, you opened your bedroom door, and +looked up and down the corridor?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly I did," agreed Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +"And saw nothing—and no one?" +</p> + +<p> +"I saw nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"And then, possibly, in order to convince Miss Elmsdale of the full +extent of her delusion, you lit a candle, and went downstairs." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course—why wouldn't I?" said Miss Blake, defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not, indeed?" repeated the learned gentleman, pensively. "Why +not?—Miss Blake being brave as she is witty. Well, you went +downstairs, and, as was the admirable custom of the house—a custom +worthy of all commendation—you found the doors opening from the hall +bolted and locked?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did." +</p> + +<p> +"And no sign of a human being about?" +</p> + +<p> +"Except myself," supplemented Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +"And rather wishing to find that some human being besides yourself was +about, you retraced your steps, and visited the servants' apartments?" +</p> + +<p> +"You might have been with me," said Miss Blake, with an angry sneer. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I had," he answered. "I can never sufficiently deplore the fact +of my absence. And you found the servants asleep?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they seemed asleep," said the lady; "but that does not prove that +they were so." +</p> + +<p> +"Doubtless," he agreed. "Nevertheless, so far as you could judge, none +of them looked as if they had been wandering up and down the corridors?" +</p> + +<p> +"I could not judge one way or another," said Miss Blake: "for the tricks +of English servants, it is impossible for anyone to be up to." +</p> + +<p> +"Still, it did not occur to you at the time that any of them was +feigning slumber?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't say it did. You see, I am naturally unsuspicious," explained +Miss Blake, naively. +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely so. And thus it happened that you were unable to confute Miss +Elmsdale's fancy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I told her she must have been dreaming," retorted Miss Blake. "People +who wake all of a sudden often confound dreams with realities." +</p> + +<p> +"And people who are not in the habit of awaking suddenly often do the +same thing," agreed her questioner; "and so, Miss Blake, we will pass +out of dreamland, and into daylight—or rather foglight. Do you +recollect a particularly foggy day, when your niece, hearing a favourite +dog moaning piteously, opened the door of the room where her father +died, in order to let it out?" +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake set her lips tight, and looked up at the gallery. There was +a little stir in that part of the court, a shuffling of feet, and +suppressed whispering. In vain the crier shouted, "Silence! silence, +there!" The bustle continued for about a minute, and then all became +quiet again. A policeman stated "a female had fainted," and our +curiosity being satisfied, we all with one accord turned towards our +learned friend, who, one hand under his gown, holding it back, and the +other raised to emphasise his question, had stood in this picturesque +attitude during the time occupied in carrying the female out, as if +done in stone. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Blake, will you kindly answer my question?" he said, when order +once again reigned in court. +</p> + +<p> +"You're worse than a heathen," remarked the lady, irrelevantly. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry you do not like me," he replied, "for I admire you very +much; but my imperfections are beside the matter in point. What I want +you to tell us is, did Miss Elmsdale open that door?" +</p> + +<p> +"She did—the creature, she did," was the answer; "her heart was always +tender to dumb brutes." +</p> + +<p> +"I have no doubt the young lady's heart was everything it ought to be," +was the reply; "and for that reason, though she had an intense +repugnance to enter the room, she opened the door to let the dog out." +</p> + +<p> +"She said so: I was not there," answered Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon ensued a brisk skirmish between counsel as to whether Miss +Blake could give evidence about a matter of mere hearsay. And after they +had fought for ten minutes over the legal bone, our adversary said he +would put the question differently, which he did, thus: +</p> + +<p> +"You were sitting in the dining-room, when you were startled by hearing +a piercing shriek." +</p> + +<p> +"I heard a screech—you can call it what you like," said Miss Blake, +feeling an utter contempt for English phraseology. +</p> + +<p> +"I stand corrected; thank you, Miss Blake. You heard a screech, in +short, and you hurried across the hall, and found Miss Elmsdale in a +fainting condition, on the floor of the library. Was that so?" +</p> + +<p> +"She often fainted: she is all nairves," explained poor Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt. And when she regained consciousness, she entreated to be +taken out of that dreadful room." +</p> + +<p> +"She never liked the room after her father's death: it was natural, +poor child." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite natural. And so you took her into the dining-room, and there, +curled upon the hearthrug, fast asleep, was the little dog she fancied +she heard whining in the library." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he had been away for two or three days, and came home hungry +and sleepy." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly. And you have, therefore, no reason to believe he was +shamming slumber." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I am getting very tired of your questions and +cross-questions," she said, irritably. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, what a pity!" remarked her tormentor; "for I could never tire of +your answers. At all events, Miss Elmsdale could not have heard him +whining in the library—so called." +</p> + +<p> +"She might have heard some other dog," said Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +"As a matter of fact, however, she stated to you there was no dog in +the room." +</p> + +<p> +"She did. But I don't think she knew whether there was or not." +</p> + +<p> +"In any case, she did not see a dog; you did not see one; and the +servants did not." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not," replied Miss Blake; "as to the servants, I would not +believe them on their oath." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush! hush! Miss Blake," entreated our opponent. "I am afraid you must +not be quite so frank. Now to return to business. When Miss Elmsdale +recovered consciousness, which she did in that very comfortable +easy-chair in the dining-room—what did she tell you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think I am going to repeat her half-silly words?" demanded Miss +Blake, angrily. "Poor dear, she was out of her mind half the time, after +her father's death." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt; but still, I must just ask you to tell us what passed. Was it +anything like this? Did she say, 'I have seen my father. He was coming +out of the strong-room when I lifted my head after looking for Juan, and +he was wringing his hands, and seemed in some terrible distress'?" +</p> + +<p> +"God forgive them that told you her words," remarked Miss Blake; "but +she did say just those, and I hope they'll do you and her as played +eavesdropper all the good I wish." +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Miss Blake," interposed the judge. +</p> + +<p> +"I have no more questions to ask, my lord," said Colonel Morris' +counsel, serenely triumphant. "Miss Blake can go down now." +</p> + +<p> +And Miss Blake did go down; and Taylor whispered in my ear: +</p> + +<p> +"She had done for us." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap06"></a> +6. WE AGREE TO COMPROMISE +</h3> + +<p> +Colonel Morris' side of the case was now to be heard, and heads were +bending eagerly forward to catch each word of wisdom that should fall +from the lips of Serjeant Playfire, when I felt a hand, cold as ice, +laid on mine, and turning, beheld Miss Blake at my elbow. +</p> + +<p> +She was as white as the nature of her complexion would permit, and her +voice shook as she whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Take me away from this place, will you?" +</p> + +<p> +I cleared a way for her out of the court, and when we reached +Westminster Hall, seeing how upset she seemed, asked if I could get +anything for her—"a glass of water, or wine," I suggested, in my +extremity. +</p> + +<p> +"Neither water nor wine will mend a broken heart," she answered, +solemnly; "and mine has been broken in there"—with a nod she indicated +the court we had just left. +</p> + +<p> +Not remembering at the moment an approved recipe for the cure of such a +fracture, I was cudgelling my brains to think of some form of reply not +likely to give offence, when, to my unspeakable relief, Mr. Craven came +up to where we stood. +</p> + +<p> +"I will take charge of Miss Blake now, Patterson," he said, +gravely—very gravely; and accepting this as an intimation that he +desired my absence, I was turning away, when I heard Miss Blake say: +</p> + +<p> +"Where is she—the creature? What have they done with her at all?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have sent her home," was Mr. Craven's reply. "How could you be so +foolish as to mislead me as you have done?" +</p> + +<p> +"Come," thought I, smelling the battle afar off, "we shall soon have +Craven <i>v</i>. Blake tried privately in our office." I knew Mr. Craven +pretty well, and understood he would not readily forgive Miss Blake for +having kept Miss Helena's experiences a secret from him. +</p> + +<p> +Over and over I had heard Miss Blake state there was not a thing really +against the house, and that Helena, poor dear, only hated the place +because she had there lost her father. +</p> + +<p> +"Not much of a loss either, if she could be brought to think so," +finished Miss Blake, sometimes. +</p> + +<p> +Consequently, to Mr. Craven, as well as to all the rest of those +connected with the firm, the facts elicited by Serjeant Playfire were +new as unwelcome. +</p> + +<p> +If the daughter of the house dreamed dreams and beheld visions, why +should strangers be denied a like privilege? If Miss Elmsdale believed +her father could not rest in his grave, how were we to compel belief as +to calm repose on the part of yearly tenants? +</p> + +<p> +"Playfire has been pitching into us pretty strong," remarked Taylor, +when I at length elbowed my way back to where our manager sat. "Where is +Mr. Craven?" +</p> + +<p> +"I left him with Miss Blake." +</p> + +<p> +"It is just as well he has not heard all the civil remarks Playfire made +about our connection with the business. Hush! he is going to call his +witnesses. No, the court is about to adjourn for luncheon." +</p> + +<p> +Once again I went out into Westminster Hall, and was sauntering idly up +and down over its stones when Mr. Craven joined me. +</p> + +<p> +"A bad business this, Patterson," he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall never get another tenant for that house," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly no tenant will ever again be got through me," he said, +irritably; and then Taylor came to him, all in a hurry, and explaining +he was wanted, carried him away. +</p> + +<p> +"They are going to compromise," I thought, and followed slowly in the +direction taken by my principal. +</p> + +<p> +How I knew they were thinking of anything of the kind, I cannot say, but +intuitively I understood the course events were taking. +</p> + +<p> +Our counsel had mentally decided that, although the jury might feel +inclined to uphold contracts and to repudiate ghosts, still, it would be +impossible for them to overlook the fact that Colonel Morris had rented +the place in utter ignorance of its antecedents, and that we had, so +far, taken a perhaps undue advantage of him; moreover, the gallant +officer had witnesses in court able to prove, and desirous of proving, +that we had over and over again compromised matters with dissatisfied +tenants, and cancelled agreements, not once or twice, but many, times; +further, on no single occasion had Miss Blake and her niece ever slept a +single night in the uninhabited house from the day when they left it; no +matter how scarce of money they chanced to be, they went into lodgings +rather than reside at River Hall. This was beyond dispute and Miss +Blake's evidence supplied the reason for conduct so extraordinary. +</p> + +<p> +For some reason the house was uninhabitable. The very owners could not +live in it; and yet—so in imagination we heard Serjeant Playfire +declaim—"The lady from whom the TRUTH had that day been reluctantly +wrung had the audacity to insist that delicate women and tender children +should continue to inhabit a dwelling over which a CURSE seemed +brooding—a dwelling where the dead were always striving for mastery +with the living; or else pay Miss Blake a sum of money which should +enable her and the daughter of the suicide to live in ease and luxury on +the profits of DECEPTION." +</p> + +<p> +And looking at the matter candidly, our counsel did not believe the jury +could return a verdict. He felt satisfied, he said, there was not a +landlord in the box, that they were all tenants, who would consider the +three months' rent paid over and above the actual occupation rent, +ample, and more than ample, remuneration. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, Serjeant Playfire, whose experience of juries was +large, and calculated to make him feel some contempt for the judgment of +"twelve honest men" in any case from pocket-picking to manslaughter, had +a prevision that, when the judge had explained to Mr. Foreman and +gentlemen of the jury, the nature of a contract, and told them +supernatural appearances, however disagreeable, were not recognized in +law as a sufficient cause for breaking an agreement, a verdict would be +found for Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +"There must be one landlord amongst them," he considered; "and if there +is, he will wind the rest round his finger. Besides, they will take the +side of the women, naturally; and Miss Blake made them laugh, and the +way she spoke of her niece touched them; while, as for the Colonel, he +won't like cross-examination, and I can see my learned friend means to +make him appear ridiculous. Enough has been done for honour—let us +think of safety." +</p> + +<p> +"For my part," said Colonel Morris, when the question was referred to +him, "I am not a vindictive man, nor, I hope, an ungenerous foe; I do +not like to be victimized, and I have vindicated my principles. The +victory was mine in fact, if not in law, when that old Irishwoman's +confession was wrung out of her. So, therefore, gentlemen, settle the +matter as you please—I shall be satisfied." +</p> + +<p> +And all the time he was inwardly praying some arrangement might be come +to. He was brave enough in his own way, but it is one thing to go into +battle, and another to stand legal fire without the chance of sending a +single bullet in return. Ridicule is the vulnerable spot in the heel of +many a modern Achilles; and while the rest of the court was "convulsed +with laughter" over Miss Blake's cross-examination, the gallant Colonel +felt himself alternately turning hot and cold when he thought that +through even such an ordeal he might have to pass. And, accordingly, to +cut short this part of my story, amongst them the lawyers agreed to +compromise the matter thus— +</p> + +<p> +Colonel Morris to give Miss Blake a third quarter's rent—in other +words, fifty pounds more, and each side to pay its own costs. +</p> + +<p> +When this decision was finally arrived at, Mr. Craven's face was a +study. Full well he knew on whom would fall the costs of one side. He +saw in prophetic vision the fifty pounds passing out of his hands into +those of Miss Blake, but no revelation was vouchsafed on the subject of +loans unpaid, of costs out of pocket, or costs at all. After we left +court he employed himself, I fancy, for the remainder of the afternoon +in making mental calculations of how much poorer a man Mrs. Elmsdale's +memory, and the Uninhabited House had left him; and, upon the whole, the +arithmetical problem could not have proved satisfactory when solved. +</p> + +<p> +The judge complimented everyone upon the compromise effected. It was +honourable in every way, and creditable to all parties concerned, but +the jury evidently were somewhat dissatisfied at the turn affairs had +taken, while the witnesses were like to rend Colonel Morris asunder. +</p> + +<p> +"They had come, at great inconvenience to themselves, to expose the +tactics of that Blake woman and her solicitor," so they said; "and they +thought the affair ought not to have been hushed up." +</p> + +<p> +As for the audience, they murmured openly. They received the statement +that the case was over, with groans, hisses, and other marks of +disapproval, and we heard comments on the matter uttered by disappointed +spectators all the way up Parliament Street, till we arrived at that +point where we left the main thoroughfare, in order to strike across to +Buckingham Street. +</p> + +<p> +There—where Pepys once lived—we betook ourselves to our books and +papers, with a sense of unusual depression in the atmosphere. It was a +gray, dull, cheerless afternoon, and more than one of us, looking out +at the mud bank, which, at low water, then occupied the space now laid +out as gardens, wondered how River Hall, desolate, tenantless, +uninhabited, looked under that sullen sky, with the murky river flowing +onward, day and night, day and night, leaving, unheeding, an unsolved +mystery on its banks. +</p> + +<p> +For a week we saw nothing of Miss Blake, but at the end of that time, in +consequence of a somewhat imperative summons from Mr. Craven, she called +at the office late one afternoon. We comprehended she had selected that, +for her, unusual time of day for a visit, hoping our principal might +have left ere she arrived; but in this hope she was disappointed: Mr. +Craven was in, at leisure, and anxious to see her. +</p> + +<p> +I shall never forget that interview. Miss Blake arrived about five +o'clock, when it was quite dark out of doors, and when, in all our +offices except Mr. Craven's, the gas was flaring away triumphantly. In +his apartment he kept the light always subdued, but between the fire and +the lamp there was plenty of light to see that Miss Blake looked ill and +depressed, and that Mr. Craven had assumed a peculiar expression, which, +to those who knew him best, implied he had made up his mind to pursue a +particular course of action, and meant to adhere to his determination. +</p> + +<p> +"You wanted to see me," said our client, breaking the ice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; I wanted to tell you that our connection with the River Hall +property must be considered at an end." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, that is the way of men, I suppose—in England." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think any man, whether in England or Ireland, could have done +more for a client than I have tried to do for you, Miss Blake," was the +offended answer. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure I have never found fault with you," remarked Miss Blake, +deprecatingly. +</p> + +<p> +"And I do not think," continued Mr. Craven, unheeding her remark, "any +lawyer ever met with a worse return for all his trouble than I have +received from you." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear, dear," said Miss Blake, with comic disbelief in her tone, "that +is very bad." +</p> + +<p> +"There are two classes of men who ought to be treated with entire +confidence," persisted Mr. Craven, "lawyers and doctors. It is as +foolish to keep back anything from one as from another." +</p> + +<p> +"I daresay," argued Miss Blake; "but we are not all wise alike, +you know." +</p> + +<p> +"No," remarked my principal, who was indeed no match for the lady, "or +you would never have allowed me to take your case into court in +ignorance of Helena having seen her father." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come," retorted Miss Blake; "you do not mean to say you believe +she ever did see her father since he was buried, and had the stone-work +put all right and neat again, about him? And, indeed, it went to my +heart to have a man who had fallen into such bad ways laid in the same +grave with my dear sister, but I thought it would be unchristian—" +</p> + +<p> +"We need not go over all that ground once more, surely," interrupted Mr. +Craven. "I have heard your opinions concerning Mr. Elmsdale frequently +expressed ere now. That which I never did hear, however, until it proved +too late, was the fact of Helena having fancied she saw her father after +his death." +</p> + +<p> +"And what good would it have done you, if I had repeated all the child's +foolish notions?" +</p> + +<p> +"This, that I should not have tried to let a house believed by the owner +herself to be uninhabitable." +</p> + +<p> +"And so you would have kept us without bread to put in our mouths, or a +roof over our heads." +</p> + +<p> +"I should have asked you to do at first what I must ask you to do at +last. If you decline to sell the place, or let it unfurnished, on a long +lease, to some one willing to take it, spite of its bad character, I +must say the house will never again be let through my instrumentality, +and I must beg you to advertise River Hall yourself, or place it in the +hands of an agent." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean to say, William Craven," asked Miss Blake, solemnly, "that +you believe that house to be haunted?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not," he answered. "I do not believe in ghosts, but I believe the +place has somehow got a bad name—perhaps through Helena's fancies, and +that people imagine it is haunted, and get frightened probably at sight +of their own shadows. Come, Miss Blake, I see a way out of this +difficulty; you go and take up your abode at River Hall for six months, +and at the end of that time the evil charm will be broken." +</p> + +<p> +"And Helena dead," she observed. +</p> + +<p> +"You need not take Helena with you." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor anybody else, I suppose you mean," she remarked. "Thank you, Mr. +Craven; but though my life is none too happy, I should like to die a +natural death, and God only knows whether those who have been peeping +and spying about the place might not murder me in my bed, if I ever went +to bed in the house; that is—" +</p> + +<p> +"Then, in a word, you do believe the place is haunted." +</p> + +<p> +"I do nothing of the kind," she answered, angrily; "but though I have +courage enough, thank Heaven, I should not like to stay all alone in any +house, and I know there is not a servant in England would stay there +with me, unless she meant to take my life. But I tell you what, William +Craven, there are lots of poor creatures in the world even poorer than +we are—tutors and starved curates, and the like. Get one of them to +stay at the Hall till he finds out where the trick is, and I won't mind +saying he shall have fifty pounds down for his pains; that is, I mean, +of course, when he has discovered the secret of all these strange +lights, and suchlike." +</p> + +<p> +And feeling she had by this proposition struck Mr. Craven under the +fifth rib, Miss Blake rose to depart. +</p> + +<p> +"You will kindly think over what I have said," observed Mr. Craven. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll do that if you will kindly think over what I have said," she +retorted, with the utmost composure; and then, after a curt +good-evening, she passed through the door I held open, nodding to me, as +though she would have remarked, "I'm more than a match for your master +still, young man." +</p> + +<p> +"What a woman that is!" exclaimed Mr. Craven, as I resumed my seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think she really means what she says about the fifty pounds?" +I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know," he answered, "but I know I would cheerfully pay that +sum to anyone who could unravel the mystery of River Hall." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you in earnest, sir?" I asked, in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly I am," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"Then let me go and stay at River Hall," I said. "I will undertake to +run the ghost to earth for half the money." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap07"></a> +7. MY OWN STORY +</h3> + +<p> +It is necessary now that I should tell the readers something about my +own antecedents. +</p> + +<p> +Aware of how uninteresting the subject must prove, I shall make that +something as short as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Already it will have been clearly understood, both from my own hints, +and from Miss Blake's far from reticent remarks on my position, that I +was a clerk at a salary in Mr. Craven's office. +</p> + +<p> +But this had not always been the case. When I went first to Buckingham +Street, I was duly articled to Mr. Craven, and my mother and sister, who +were of aspiring dispositions, lamented that my choice of a profession +had fallen on law rather than soldiering. +</p> + +<p> +They would have been proud of a young fellow in uniform; but they did +not feel at all elated at the idea of being so closely connected with a +"musty attorney." +</p> + +<p> +As for my father, he told me to make my own choice, and found the money +to enable me to do so. He was an easy-going soul, who was in the +miserable position of having a sufficient income to live on without +exerting either mind or body; and yet whose income was insufficient to +enable him to have superior hobbies, or to gratify any particular taste. +We resided in the country, and belonged to the middle class of +comfortable, well-to-do English people. In our way, we were somewhat +exclusive as to our associates—and as the Hall and Castle residents +were, in their way, exclusive also, we lived almost out of society. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, we were very intimate with only one family in our neighbourhood; +and I think it was the example of the son of that house which first +induced me to think of leading a different existence from that in which +my father had grown as green and mossy as a felled tree. +</p> + +<p> +Ned Munro, the eldest hope of a proud but reduced stock, elected to +study for the medical profession. +</p> + +<p> +"The life here," he remarked, vaguely indicating the distant houses +occupied by our respective sires, "may suit the old folks, but it does +not suit me." And he went out into the wilderness of the world. +</p> + +<p> +After his departure I found that the life at home did not suit me +either, and so I followed his lead, and went, duly articled, to Mr. +Craven, of Buckingham Street, Strand. Mr. Craven and my father were old +friends. To this hour I thank Heaven for giving my father such a friend. +</p> + +<p> +After I had been for a considerable time with Mr. Craven, there came a +dreadful day, when tidings arrived that my father was ruined, and my +immediate presence required at home. What followed was that which is +usual enough in all such cases, with this difference—the loss of his +fortune killed my father. +</p> + +<p> +From what I have seen since, I believe when he took to his bed and +quietly gave up living altogether, he did the wisest and best thing +possible under the circumstances. Dear, simple, kindly old man, I cannot +fancy how his feeble nature might have endured the years which followed; +filled by my mother and sister with lamentations, though we knew no +actual want—thanks to Mr. Craven. +</p> + +<p> +My father had been dabbling in shares, and when the natural +consequence—ruin, utter ruin, came to our pretty country home, Mr. +Craven returned me the money paid to him, and offered me a salary. +</p> + +<p> +Think of what this kindness was, and we penniless; while all the time +relations stood aloof, holding out nor hand nor purse, till they saw +whether we could weather the storm without their help. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst those relations chanced to be a certain Admiral Patterson, an +uncle of my father. When we were well-to-do he had not disdained to +visit us in our quiet home, but when poverty came he tied up his +purse-strings and ignored our existence, till at length, hearing by a +mere chance that I was supporting my mother and sister by my own +exertions (always helped by Mr. Craven's goodness), he said, audibly, +that the "young jackanapes must have more in him than he thought," and +wrote to beg that I would spend my next holiday at his house. +</p> + +<p> +I was anxious to accept the invitation, as a friend told me he felt +certain the old gentleman would forward my views; but I did not choose +to visit my relative in shabby clothes and with empty pockets; +therefore, it fell out that I jumped at Miss Blake's suggestion, and +closed with Mr. Craven's offer on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +Half fifty—twenty-five—pounds would replenish my wardrobe, pay my +travelling expenses, and leave me with money in my pocket, as well. +</p> + +<p> +I told Mr. Craven all this in a breath. When I had done so he +laughed, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"You have worked hard, Patterson. Here is ten pounds. Go and see your +uncle; but leave River Hall alone." +</p> + +<p> +Then, almost with tears, I entreated him not to baulk my purpose. If I +could rid River Hall of its ghost, I would take money from him, not +otherwise. I told him I had set my heart on unravelling the mystery +attached to that place, and I could have told him another mystery at the +same time, had shame not tied my tongue. I was in love—for the first +time in my life—hopelessly, senselessly, with a face of which I thought +all day and dreamed all night, that had made itself in a moment part and +parcel of my story, thus: +</p> + +<p> +I had been at Kentish Town to see one of our clients, and having +finished my business, walked on as far as Camden Town, intending to take +an omnibus which might set me down somewhere near Chancery Lane. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst standing at the top of College Street, under shelter of my +umbrella, a drizzling rain falling and rendering the pavement dirty and +slippery, I noticed a young lady waiting to cross the road—a young lady +with, to my mind, the sweetest, fairest, most lovable face on which my +eyes had ever rested. I could look at her without causing annoyance, +because she was so completely occupied in watching lumbering vans, fast +carts, crawling cabs, and various other vehicles, which chanced at that +moment to be crowding the thoroughfare, that she had no leisure to +bestow even a glance on any pedestrian. +</p> + +<p> +A governess, I decided: for her dress, though neat, and even elegant, +was by no means costly; moreover, there was an expression of settled +melancholy about her features, and further, she carried a roll, which +looked like music, in her hand. In less time than it has taken me to +write this paragraph, I had settled all about her to my own +satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +Father bankrupt. Mother delicate. Young brothers and sisters, probably, +all crying aloud for the pittance she was able to earn by giving lessons +at so much an hour. +</p> + +<p> +She had not been long at her present occupation, I felt satisfied, +for she was evidently unaccustomed to being out in the streets alone +on a wet day. +</p> + +<p> +I would have offered to see her across the road, but for two reasons: +one, because I felt shy about proffering my services; the other, because +I was exceedingly doubtful whether I might not give offence by speaking. +</p> + +<p> +After the fashion of so many of her sex, she made about half a dozen +false starts, advancing as some friendly cabby made signs for her to +venture the passage, retreating as she caught sight of some coming +vehicle still yards distant. +</p> + +<p> +At last, imagining the way clear, she made a sudden rush, and had just +got well off the curb, when a mail phaeton turned the corner, and in one +second she was down in the middle of the road, and I struggling with the +horses and swearing at the driver, who, in his turn, very heartily +anathematized me. +</p> + +<p> +I do not remember all I said to the portly, well-fed, swaggering cockney +upstart; but there was so much in it uncomplimentary to himself and his +driving, that the crowd already assembled cheered, as all crowds will +cheer profane and personal language; and he was glad enough to gather up +his reins and touch his horses, and trot off, without having first gone +through the ceremony of asking whether the girl he had so nearly driven +over was living or dead. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime she had been carried into the nearest shop, whither I +followed her. +</p> + +<p> +I do not know why all the people standing about imagined me to be her +brother, but they certainly did so, and, under that impression, made way +for me to enter the parlour behind the shop, where I found my poor +beauty sitting, faint and frightened and draggled, whilst the woman of +the house was trying to wipe the mud off her dress, and endeavouring to +persuade her to swallow some wine-and-water. +</p> + +<p> +As I entered, she lifted her eyes to mine, and said, "Thank you, sir. +I trust you have not got hurt yourself," so frankly and so sweetly +that the small amount of heart her face had left me passed into her +keeping at once. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you much hurt?" I replied by asking. +</p> + +<p> +"My arm is, a little," she answered. "If I could only get home! Oh! I +wish I were at home." +</p> + +<p> +I went out and fetched a cab, and assisted her into it. Then I asked her +where the man should drive, and she gave me the name of the street which +Miss Blake, when in England, honoured by making her abode. Miss Blake's +number was 110. My charmer's number was 15. Having obtained this +information, I closed the cab-door, and taking my seat beside the +driver, we rattled off in the direction of Brunswick Square. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at the house, I helped her—when, in answer to my knock, an +elderly woman appeared, to ask my business—into the narrow hall of a +dreary house. Oh! how my heart ached when I beheld her surroundings! She +did not bid me good-bye; but asking me into the parlour, went, as I +understood, to get money to pay the cabman. +</p> + +<p> +Seizing my opportunity, I told the woman, who still stood near the door, +that I was in a hurry, and leaving the house, bade the driver take me to +the top of Chancery Lane. +</p> + +<p> +On the next Sunday I watched No. 15, till I beheld my lady-fair come +forth, veiled, furred, dressed all in her dainty best, prayer-book in +hand, going alone to St. Pancras Church—not the old, but the +new—whither I followed her. +</p> + +<p> +By some freak of fortune, the verger put me into the same pew as that in +which he had just placed her. +</p> + +<p> +When she saw me her face flushed crimson, and then she gave a little +smile of recognition. +</p> + +<p> +I fear I did not much heed the service on that particular Sunday; but I +still felt shy, so shy that, after I had held the door open for her to +pass out, I allowed others to come between us, and did not dare to +follow and ask how she was. +</p> + +<p> +During the course of the next week came Miss Blake and Mr. Craven's +remark about the fifty pounds; and within four-and-twenty hours +something still more astounding occurred—a visit from Miss Blake and +her niece, who wanted "a good talking-to"—so Miss Blake stated. +</p> + +<p> +It was a dull, foggy day, and when my eyes rested on the younger lady, I +drew back closer into my accustomed corner, frightened and amazed. +</p> + +<p> +"You were in such a passion yesterday," began Miss Blake, coming into +the office, dragging her blushing niece after her, "that you put it out +of my head to tell you three things—one, that we have moved from our +old lodgings; the next, that I have not a penny to go on with; and the +third, that Helena here has gone out of her mind. She won't have River +Hall let again, if you please. She intends to go out as a +governess—what do you think of that?—and nothing I can say makes any +impression upon her. I should have thought she had had enough of +governessing the first day she went out to give a lesson: she got +herself run over and nearly killed; was brought back in a cab by some +gentleman, who had the decency to take the cab away again: for how we +should have paid the fare, I don't know, I am sure. So I have just +brought her to you to know if her mother's old friend thinks it is a +right thing for Kathleen Elmsdale's daughter to put herself under the +feet of a parcel of ignorant, purse-proud snobs?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven looked at the girl kindly. "My dear," he said, "I think, I +believe, there will be no necessity for you to do anything of that kind. +We have found a person—have we not, Patterson?—willing to devote +himself to solving the River Hall mystery. So, for the present at all +events, Helena—" +</p> + +<p> +He paused, for Helena had risen from her seat and crossed the room to +where I sat. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt, aunt," she said, "this is the gentleman who stopped the horses," +and before I could speak a word she held my hand in hers, and was +thanking me once again with her beautiful eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Blake turned and glared upon me. "Oh! it was you, was it?" she +said, ungraciously. "Well, it is just what I might have expected, and me +hoping all the time it was a lord or a baronet, at the least." +</p> + +<p> +We all laughed—even Miss Elmsdale laughed at this frank +confession; but when the ladies were gone, Mr. Craven, looking at +me pityingly, remarked: +</p> + +<p> +"This is a most unfortunate business, Patterson. I hope—I do hope, you +will not be so foolish as to fall in love with Miss Elmsdale." +</p> + +<p> +To which I made no reply. The evil, if evil it were, was done. I had +fallen in love with Miss Blake's niece ere those words of wisdom dropped +from my employer's lips. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap08"></a> +8. MY FIRST NIGHT AT RIVER HALL +</h3> + +<p> +It was with a feeling of depression for which I could in no way account +that, one cold evening, towards the end of February, I left Buckingham +Street and wended my way to the Uninhabited House. I had been eager to +engage in the enterprise; first, for the sake of the fifty pounds +reward; and secondly, and much more, for the sake of Helena Elmsdale. I +had tormented Mr. Craven until he gave a reluctant consent to my desire. +I had brooded over the matter until I became eager to commence my +investigations, as a young soldier may be to face the enemy; and yet, +when the evening came, and darkness with it; when I set my back to the +more crowded thoroughfares, and found myself plodding along a lonely +suburban road, with a keen wind lashing my face, and a suspicion of rain +at intervals wetting my cheeks, I confess I had no feeling of enjoyment +in my self-imposed task. +</p> + +<p> +After all, talking about a haunted house in broad daylight to one's +fellow-clerks, in a large London office, is a very different thing from +taking up one's residence in the same house, all alone, on a bleak +winter's night, with never a soul within shouting distance. I had made +up my mind to go through with the matter, and no amount of mental +depression, no wintry blasts, no cheerless roads, no desolate goal, +should daunt me; but still I did not like the adventure, and at every +step I felt I liked it less. +</p> + +<p> +Before leaving town I had fortified my inner man with a good dinner and +some excellent wine, but by the time I reached River Hall I might have +fasted for a week, so faint and spiritless did I feel. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, this will never do," I thought, as I turned the key in the +door, and crossed the threshold of the Uninhabited House. "I must not +begin with being chicken-hearted, or I may as well give up the +investigation at once." +</p> + +<p> +The fires I had caused to be kindled in the morning, though almost out +by the time I reached River Hall, had diffused a grateful warmth +throughout the house; and when I put a match to the paper and wood laid +ready in the grate of the room I meant to occupy, and lit the gas, in +the hall, on the landing, and in my sleeping-apartment, I began to think +things did not look so cheerless, after all. +</p> + +<p> +The seals which, for precaution's sake, I had placed on the various +locks, remained intact. I looked to the fastenings of the hall-door, +examined the screws by which the bolts were attached to the wood, and +having satisfied myself that everything of that kind was secure, went +up to my room, where the fire was now crackling and blazing famously, +put the kettle on the hob, drew a chair up close to the hearth, +exchanged my boots for slippers, lit a pipe, pulled out my law-books, +and began to read. +</p> + +<p> +How long I had read, I cannot say; the kettle on the hob was boiling, at +any rate, and the coals had burned themselves into a red-hot mass of +glowing cinders, when my attention was attracted—or rather, I should +say, distracted—by the sound of tapping outside the window-pane. First +I listened, and read on, then I laid down my book and listened more +attentively. It was exactly the noise which a person would make tapping +upon glass with one finger. +</p> + +<p> +The wind had risen almost to a tempest, but, in the interval between +each blast, I could hear the tapping as distinctly as if it had been +inside my own skull—tap, tap, imperatively; tap, tap, tap, impatiently; +and when I rose to approach the casement, it seemed as if three more +fingers had joined in the summons, and were rapping for bare life. +</p> + +<p> +"They have begun betimes," I thought; and taking my revolver in one +hand, with the other I opened the shutters, and put aside the blind. +</p> + +<p> +As I did so, it seemed as if some dark body occupied one side of the +sash, while the tapping continued as madly as before. +</p> + +<p> +It is as well to confess at once that I was for the moment frightened. +Subsequently I saw many wonderful sights, and had some terrible +experiences in the Uninhabited House; but I can honestly say, no sight +or experience so completely cowed me for the time being, as that dull +blackness to which I could assign no shape, that spirit-like rapping of +fleshless fingers, which seemed to increase in vehemence as I obeyed +its summons. +</p> + +<p> +Doctors say it is not possible for the heart to stand still and a human +being live, and, as I am not a doctor, I do not like to contradict their +dogma, otherwise I could positively declare my heart did cease beating +as I listened, looking out into the night with the shadow of that +darkness projecting itself upon my mind, to the impatient tapping, which +was now distinctly audible even above the raging of the storm. +</p> + +<p> +How I gathered sufficient courage to do it, I cannot tell; but I put my +face close to the glass, thus shutting out the gas and fire-light, and +saw that the dark object which alarmed me was a mass of ivy the wind had +detached from the wall, and that the invisible fingers were young +branches straying from the main body of the plant, which, tossed by the +air-king, kept striking the window incessantly, now one, now two, now +three, tap, tap, tap; tap, tap; tap, tap; and sometimes, after a long +silence, all together, tap-p-p, like the sound of clamming bells. +</p> + +<p> +I stood for a minute or two, listening to the noise, so as to satisfy +myself as to its cause, then I laid down the revolver, took out my +pocket-knife, and opened the window. As I did so, a tremendous blast +swept into the room, extinguishing the gas, causing the glowing coals to +turn, for a moment, black on one side and to fiercest blaze on the +other, scattering the dust lying on the hearth over the carpet, and +dashing the ivy-sprays against my face with a force which caused my +cheeks to smart and tingle long afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +Taking my revenge, I cut them as far back as I could, and then, without +closing the window, and keeping my breath as well as I could, I looked +out across the garden over the Thames, away to the opposite bank, where +a few lights glimmered at long intervals. "An eerie, lonely place for a +fellow to be in all by himself," I continued; "and yet, if the rest of +the ghosts, bodiless or clothed with flesh, which frequent this house +prove to be as readily laid as those ivy-twigs, I shall earn my +money—and—my—thanks, easily enough." +</p> + +<p> +So considering, I relit the gas, replenished the fire, refilled my pipe, +reseated myself by the hearth, and with feet stretched out towards the +genial blaze, attempted to resume my reading. +</p> + +<p> +All in vain: I could not fix my attention on the page; I could not +connect one sentence with another. When my mind ought to have +concentrated its energies upon Justice That, and Vice-Chancellor This, +and Lord Somebody Else, I felt it wandering away, trying to fit together +all the odds and ends of evidence worthy or unworthy concerning the +Uninhabited House. Which really was, as we had always stated, a good +house, a remarkably good house, well furnished, suitable in every +respect, &c. +</p> + +<p> +Had I been a "family of respectability," or a gentleman of position, +with a large number of servants, a nice wife, and a few children +sprinkled about the domestic picture, I doubt not I should have enjoyed +the contemplation of that glowing fire, and rejoiced in the idea of +finding myself located in so desirable a residence, within an easy +distance of the West End; but, as matters stood, I felt anything rather +than elated. +</p> + +<p> +In that large house there was no human inmate save myself, and I had an +attack of nervousness upon me for which I found it impossible to +account. Here was I, at length, under the very roof where my mistress +had passed all her childish days, bound to solve the mystery which was +making such havoc with her young life, permitted to essay a task, the +accomplishment of which should cover me with glory, and perhaps restore +peace and happiness to her heart; and yet I was <i>afraid</i>. I did not +hesitate to utter that word to my own soul then, any more than I +hesitate to write it now for those who list to read: for I can truly say +I think there are few men whose courage such an adventure would not try +were they to attempt it; and I am sure, had any one of those to whom I +tell this story been half as much afraid as I, he would have left River +Hall there and then, and allowed the ghosts said to be resident, to +haunt it undisturbed for evermore. +</p> + +<p> +If I could only have kept memory from running here and there in quest of +evidence pro and con the house being haunted, I should have fared +better: but I could not do this. +</p> + +<p> +Let me try as I would to give my attention to those legal studies that +ought to have engrossed my attention, I could not succeed in doing so: +my thoughts, without any volition on my part, kept continually on the +move; now with Miss Blake in Buckingham Street, again with Colonel +Morris on the river walk, once more with Miss Elmsdale in the library; +and went constantly flitting hither and thither, recalling the +experiences of a frightened lad, or the terror of an ignorant woman; yet +withal I had a feeling that in some way memory was playing me false, as +if, when ostentatiously bringing out all her stores for me to make or +mar as I could, she had really hidden away, in one of her remotest +corners, some link, great or little as the case might be, but still, +whether great or little, necessary to connect the unsatisfactory +narratives together. +</p> + +<p> +Till late in the night I sat trying to piece my puzzle together, but +without success. There was a flaw in the story, a missing point in it, +somewhere, I felt certain. I often imagined I was about to touch it, +when, heigh! presto! it eluded my grasp. +</p> + +<p> +"The whole affair will resolve itself into ivy-boughs," I finally, +if not truthfully, decided. "I am satisfied it is all—ivy," and I +went to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Now, whether it was that I had thought too much of the ghostly +narratives associated with River Hall, the storminess of the night, the +fact of sleeping in a strange room, or the strength of a tumbler of +brandy-and-water, in which brandy took an undue lead, I cannot tell; but +during the morning hours I dreamed a dream which filled me with an +unspeakable horror, from which I awoke struggling for breath, bathed in +a cold perspiration, and with a dread upon me such as I never felt in +any waking moment of my life. +</p> + +<p> +I dreamt I was lying asleep in the room I actually occupied, when I was +aroused from a profound slumber by the noise produced by some one +tapping at the window-pane. On rising to ascertain the cause of this +summons, I saw Colonel Morris standing outside and beckoning me to join +him. With that disregard of space, time, distance, and attire which +obtains in dreams, I at once stepped out into the garden. It was a +pitch-dark night, and bitterly cold, and I shivered, I know, as I heard +the sullen flow of the river, and listened to the moaning of the wind +among the trees. +</p> + +<p> +We walked on for some minutes in silence, then my companion asked me if +I felt afraid, or if I would go on with him. +</p> + +<p> +"I will go where you go," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly he disappeared, and Playfire, who had been his counsel at +the time of the trial, took my hand and led me onwards. +</p> + +<p> +We passed through a doorway, and, still in darkness, utter darkness, +began to descend some steps. We went down—down—hundreds of steps as it +seemed to me, and in my sleep, I still remembered the old idea of its +being unlucky to dream of going downstairs. But at length we came to the +bottom, and then began winding along interminable passages, now so +narrow only one could walk abreast, and again so low that we had to +stoop our heads in order to avoid striking the roof. +</p> + +<p> +After we had been walking along these for hours, as time reckons in such +cases, we commenced ascending flight after flight of steep stone-steps. +I laboured after Playfire till my limbs ached and grew weary, till, +scarcely able to drag my feet from stair to stair, I entreated him to +stop; but he only laughed and held on his course the more rapidly, while +I, hurrying after, often stumbled and recovered myself, then stumbled +again and lay prone. +</p> + +<p> +The night air blew cold and chill upon me as I crawled out into an +unaccustomed place and felt my way over heaps of uneven earth and +stones that obstructed my progress in every direction. I called out +for Playfire, but the wind alone answered me; I shouted for Colonel +Morris; I entreated some one to tell me where I was; and in answer +there was a dead and terrible silence. The wind died away; not a +breath of air disturbed the heavy stillness which had fallen so +suddenly around me. Instead of the veil of merciful blackness which +had hidden everything hitherto from view, a gray light spread slowly +over the objects around, revealing a burial-ground, with an old church +standing in the midst—a burial-ground where grew rank nettles and +coarse, tall grass; where brambles trailed over the graves, and weeds +and decay consorted with the dead. +</p> + +<p> +Moved by some impulse which I could not resist, I still held on my +course, over mounds of earth, between rows of headstones, till I reached +the other side of the church, under the shadow of which yawned an open +pit. To the bottom of it I peered, and there beheld an empty coffin; the +lid was laid against the side of the grave, and on a headstone, +displaced from its upright position, sat the late occupant of the grave, +looking at me with wistful, eager eyes. A stream of light from within +the church fell across that one empty grave, that one dead watcher. +</p> + +<p> +"So you have come at last," he said; and then the spell was broken, and +I would have fled, but that, holding me with his left hand, he pointed +with his right away to a shadowy distance, where the gray sky merged +into deepest black. +</p> + +<p> +I strained my eyes to discover the object he strove to indicate, but I +failed to do so. I could just discern something flitting away into the +darkness, but I could give it no shape or substance. +</p> + +<p> +"Look—look!" the dead man said, rising, in his excitement, and +clutching me more firmly with his clay-cold fingers. +</p> + +<p> +I tried to fly, but I could not; my feet were chained to the spot. I +fought to rid myself of the clasp of the skeleton hand, and then we fell +together over the edge of the pit, and I awoke. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap09"></a> +9. A TEMPORARY PEACE +</h3> + +<p> +It was scarcely light when I jumped out of bed, and murmuring, "Thank +God it was only a dream," dressed myself with all speed, and flinging +open the window, looked out on a calm morning after the previous +night's storm. +</p> + +<p> +Muddily and angrily the Thames rolled onward to the sea. On the opposite +side of the river I could see stretches of green, with here and there a +house dotting the banks. +</p> + +<p> +A fleet of barges lay waiting the turn of the tide to proceed to their +destination. The voices of the men shouting to each other, and +blaspheming for no particular reason, came quite clear and distinct +over the water. The garden was strewed with twigs and branches blown +off the trees during the night; amongst them the sprigs of ivy I had +myself cut off. +</p> + +<p> +An hour and a scene not calculated to encourage superstitious fancies, +it may be, but still not likely to enliven any man's spirits—a quiet, +dull, gray, listless, dispiriting morning, and, being country-bred, I +felt its influence. +</p> + +<p> +"I will walk into town, and ask Ned Munro to give me some breakfast," I +thought, and found comfort in the idea. +</p> + +<p> +Ned Munro was a doctor, but not a struggling doctor. He was not rich, +but he "made enough for a beginner": so he said. He worked hard for +little pay; "but I mean some day to have high pay, and take the world +easy," he explained. He was blessed with great hopes and good courage; +he had high spirits, and a splendid constitution. He neither starved +himself nor his friends; his landlady "loved him as her son"; and +there were several good-looking girls who were very fond of him, not +as a brother. +</p> + +<p> +But Ned had no notion of marrying, yet awhile. "Time enough for that," +he told me once, "when I can furnish a good house, and set up a +brougham, and choose my patients, and have a few hundreds lying idle in +the bank." +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, as no one of these items had yet been realized, he lived in +lodgings, ate toasted haddocks with his morning coffee, and smoked and +read novels far into the night. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I could go and breakfast with Munro. Just then it occurred to me +that the gas I had left lighted when I went to bed was out; that the +door I had left locked was open. +</p> + +<p> +Straight downstairs I went. The gas in the hall was out, and every door +I had myself closed and locked the previous morning stood ajar, with the +seal, however, remaining intact. +</p> + +<p> +I had borne as much as I could: my nerves were utterly unhinged. +Snatching my hat and coat, I left the house, and fled, rather than +walked, towards London. +</p> + +<p> +With every step I took towards town came renewed courage; and when I +reached Ned's lodgings, I felt ashamed of my pusillanimity. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been sleep-walking, that is what it is," I decided. "I have +opened the doors and turned off the gas myself, and been frightened at +the work of my own hands. I will ask Munro what is the best thing to +insure a quiet night." +</p> + +<p> +Which I did accordingly, receiving for answer— +</p> + +<p> +"Keep a quiet mind." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but if one cannot keep a quiet mind; if one is anxious and +excited, and——" +</p> + +<p> +"In love," he finished, as I hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, no; I did not mean that," I said; "though, of course, that might +enter into the case also. Suppose one is uneasy about a certain amount +of money, for instance?" +</p> + +<p> +"Are you?" he asked, ignoring the general suggestiveness of my remark. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, yes; I want to make some if I can." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't want, then," he advised. "Take my word for it, no amount of money +is worth the loss of a night's rest; and you have been tossing about all +night, I can see. Come, Patterson, if it's forgery or embezzlement, out +with it, man, and I will help you if I am able." +</p> + +<p> +"If it were either one or the other, I should go to Mr. Craven," I +answered, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"Then it must be love," remarked my host; "and you will want to take me +into your confidence some day. The old story, I suppose: beautiful girl, +stern parents, wealthy suitor, poor lover. I wonder if we could interest +her in a case of small-pox. If she took it badly, you might have a +chance; but I have a presentiment that she has been vaccinated." +</p> + +<p> +"Ned," was my protest, "I shall certainly fling a plate at your head." +</p> + +<p> +"All right, if you think the exertion would do you good," he answered. +"Give me your hand, Patterson"; and before I knew what he wanted with +it, he had his fingers on my wrist. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, old fellow," he said; "you will be laid up, if you don't +take care of yourself. I thought so when you came in, and I am sure of +it now. What have you been doing?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing wrong, Munro," I answered, smiling in spite of myself. "I have +not been picking, or stealing, or abducting any young woman, or courting +my neighbour's wife; but I am worried and perplexed. When I sleep I have +dreadful dreams—horrible dreams," I added, shuddering. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you tell me what is worrying and perplexing you?" he asked, kindly, +after a moment's thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet, Ned," I answered; "though I expect I shall have to tell +you soon. Give me something to make me sleep quietly: that is all I +want now." +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you go out of town?" he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not want to go out of town," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"I will make you up something to strengthen your nerves," he said, after +a pause; "but if you are not better—well, before the end of the week, +take my advice, and run down to Brighton over Sunday. Now, you ought to +give me a guinea for that," he added, laughing. "I assure you, all the +gold-headed cane, all the wonderful chronometer doctors who pocket +thousands per annum at the West End, could make no more of your case +than I have done." +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure they could not," I said, gratefully; "and when I have the +guinea to spare, be sure I shall not forget your fee." +</p> + +<p> +Whether it was owing to his medicine, or his advice, or his cheery, +health-giving manner, I have no idea; but that night, when I walked +towards the Uninhabited House, I felt a different being. +</p> + +<p> +On my way I called at a small corn-chandler's, and bought a quartern of +flour done up in a thin and utterly insufficient bag. I told the man the +wrapper would not bear its contents, and he said he could not help that. +</p> + +<p> +I asked him if he had no stronger bags. He answered that he had, but he +could not afford to give them away. +</p> + +<p> +I laid down twopence extra, and inquired if that would cover the expense +of a sheet of brown paper. +</p> + +<p> +Ashamed, he turned aside and produced a substantial bag, into which he +put the flour in its envelope of curling-tissue. +</p> + +<p> +I thanked him, and pushed the twopence across the counter. With a grunt, +he thrust the money back. I said good-night, leaving current coin of the +realm to the amount indicated behind me. +</p> + +<p> +Through the night be shouted, "Hi! sir, you've forgotten your change." +</p> + +<p> +Through the night I shouted back, "Give your next customer its value in +civility." +</p> + +<p> +All of which did me good. Squabbling with flesh and blood is not a bad +preliminary to entering a ghost-haunted house. +</p> + +<p> +Once again I was at River Hall. Looking up at its cheerless portal, I +was amazed at first to see the outside lamp flaring away in the +darkness. Then I remembered that all the other gas being out, of course +this, which I had not turned off, would blaze more brightly. +</p> + +<p> +Purposely I had left my return till rather late. I had gone to one of +the theatres, and remained until a third through the principal piece. +Then I called at a supper-room, had half a dozen oysters and some stout; +after which, like a giant refreshed, I wended my way westward. +</p> + +<p> +Utterly false would it be for me to say I liked the idea of entering the +Uninhabited House; but still, I meant to do it, and I did. +</p> + +<p> +No law-books for me that night; no seductive fire; no shining lights all +over the house. Like a householder of twenty years' standing, I struck a +match, and turned the gas on to a single hall-lamp. I did not trouble +myself even about shutting the doors opening into the hall; I only +strewed flour copiously over the marble pavement, and on the first +flight of stairs, and then, by the servant's passages, crept into the +upper story, and so to bed. +</p> + +<p> +That night I slept dreamlessly. I awoke in broad daylight, wondering why +I had not been called sooner, and then remembered there was no one to +call, and that if I required hot water, I must boil it for myself. +</p> + +<p> +With that light heart which comes after a good night's rest, I put on +some part of my clothing, and was commencing to descend the principal +staircase, when my proceedings of the previous night flashed across my +mind; and pausing, I looked down into the hall. No sign of a foot on the +flour. The white powder lay there innocent of human pressure as the +untrodden snow; and yet, and yet, was I dreaming—could I have been +drunk without my own knowledge, before I went to bed? The gas was ablaze +in the hall and on the staircase, and every door left open over-night +was close shut. +</p> + +<p> +Curiously enough, at that moment fear fell from me like a garment which +has served its turn, and in the strength of my manhood, I felt able to +face anything the Uninhabited House might have to show. +</p> + +<p> +Over the latter part of that week, as being utterly unimportant in its +events or consequences, I pass rapidly, only saying that, when Saturday +came, I followed Munro's advice, and ran down to Brighton, under the +idea that by so doing I should thoroughly strengthen myself for the next +five days' ordeal. But the idea was a mistaken one. The Uninhabited +House took its ticket for Brighton by the same express; it got into the +compartment with me; it sat beside me at dinner; it hob-nobbed to me +over my own wine; uninvited it came out to walk with me; and when I +stood still, listening to the band, it stood still too. It went with me +to the pier, and when the wind blew, as the wind did, it said, "We were +quite as well off on the Thames." +</p> + +<p> +When I woke, through the night, it seemed to shout, "Are you any better +off here?" And when I went to church the next day it crept close up to +me in the pew, and said, "Come, now, it is all very well to say you are +a Christian; but if you were really one you would not be afraid of the +place you and I wot of." +</p> + +<p> +Finally, I was so goaded and maddened that I shook my fist at the sea, +and started off by the evening train for the Uninhabited House. +</p> + +<p> +This time I travelled alone. The Uninhabited House preceded me. +</p> + +<p> +There, in its old position, looking gloomy and mysterious in the +shadows of night, I found it on my return to town; and, as if tired of +playing tricks with one who had become indifferent to their vagaries, +all the doors remained precisely as I had left them; and if there were +ghosts in the house that night, they did not interfere with me or the +chamber I occupied. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, while I was dressing, a most remarkable thing occurred; a +thing for which I was in no wise prepared. Spirits, and sights and +sounds supposed appropriate to spirithood, I had expected; but for a +modest knock at the front door I was not prepared. +</p> + +<p> +When, after hurriedly completing my toilet, I undrew the bolts and undid +the chain, and opened the door wide, there came rushing into the house a +keen easterly wind, behind which I beheld a sad-faced woman, dressed in +black, who dropped me a curtsey, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"If you please, sir—I suppose you are the gentleman?" +</p> + +<p> +Now, I could make nothing out of this, so I asked her to be good enough +to explain. +</p> + +<p> +Then it all came out: "Did I want a person to char?" +</p> + +<p> +This was remarkable—very. Her question amazed me to such an extent that +I had to ask her in, and request her to seat herself on one of the hall +chairs, and go upstairs myself, and think the matter over before I +answered her. +</p> + +<p> +It had been so impressed upon me that no one in the neighbourhood would +come near River Hall, that I should as soon have thought of Victoria by +the grace of God paying me a friendly visit, as of being waited on by a +charwoman. +</p> + +<p> +I went downstairs again. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of me my new acquaintance rose from her seat, and began curling +up the corner of her apron. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know," I said, "that this house bears the reputation of +being haunted?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard people say it is, sir," she answered. +</p> + +<p> +"And do you know that servants will not stay in it—that tenants will +not occupy it?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard so, sir," she answered once again. +</p> + +<p> +"Then what do you mean by offering to come?" I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up into my face, and I saw the tears come softly stealing +into her eyes, and her mouth began to pucker, ere, drooping her head, +she replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Sir, just three months ago, come the twentieth, I was a happy woman. I +had a good husband and a tidy home. There was not a lady in the land I +would have changed places with. But that night, my man, coming home in a +fog, fell into the river and was drowned. It was a week before they +found him, and all the time—while I had been hoping to hear his step +every minute in the day—I was a widow." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor soul!" I said, involuntarily. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir, when a man goes, all goes. I have done my best, but still I +have not been able to feed my children—his children—properly, and the +sight of their poor pinched faces breaks my heart, it do, sir," and she +burst out sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +"And so, I suppose," I remarked, "you thought you would face this house +rather than poverty?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir. I heard the neighbours talking about this place, and you, +sir, and I made up my mind to come and ask if I mightn't tidy up things +a bit for you, sir. I was a servant, sir, before I married, and I'd be +so thankful." +</p> + +<p> +Well, to cut the affair shorter for the reader than I was able to do for +myself, I gave her half a crown, and told her I would think over her +proposal, and let her hear from me—which I did. I told her she might +come for a couple of hours each morning, and a couple each evening, and +she could bring one of the children with her if she thought she was +likely to find the place lonely. +</p> + +<p> +I would not let her come in the day-time, because, in the quest I +had set myself, it was needful I should feel assured no person could +have an opportunity of elaborating any scheme for frightening me, on +the premises. +</p> + +<p> +"Real ghosts," said I to Mr. Craven, "I do not mind; but the physical +agencies which may produce ghosts, I would rather avoid." Acting on +which principle I always remained in the house while Mrs. Stott—my +charwoman was so named—cleaned, and cooked, and boiled, and put +things straight. +</p> + +<p> +No one can imagine what a revolution this woman effected in my ways and +habits, and in the ways and habits of the Uninhabited House. +</p> + +<p> +Tradesmen called for orders. The butcher's boy came whistling down the +lane to deliver the rump-steak or mutton-chop I had decided on for +dinner; the greengrocer delivered his vegetables; the cheesemonger took +solemn affidavit concerning the freshness of his stale eggs and the +superior quality of a curious article which he called country butter, +and declared came from a particular dairy famed for the excellence of +its produce; the milkman's yahoo sounded cheerfully in the morning +hours; and the letter-box was filled with cards from all sorts and +descriptions of people—from laundresses to wine merchants, from +gardeners to undertakers. +</p> + +<p> +The doors now never shut nor opened of their own accord. A great peace +seemed to have settled over River Hall. +</p> + +<p> +It was all too peaceful, in fact. I had gone to the place to hunt a +ghost, and not even the ghost of a ghost seemed inclined to reveal +itself to me. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap10"></a> +10. THE WATCHER IS WATCHED +</h3> + +<p> +I have never been able exactly to satisfy my own mind as to the precise +period during my occupation of the Uninhabited House when it occurred to +me that I was being watched. Hazily I must have had some consciousness +of the fact long before I began seriously to entertain the idea. +</p> + +<p> +I felt, even when I was walking through London, that I was being often +kept in sight by some person. I had that vague notion of a stranger +being interested in my movements which it is so impossible to define to +a friend, and which one is chary of seriously discussing with oneself. +Frequently, when the corner of a street was reached, I found myself +involuntarily turning to look back; and, prompted by instinct, I +suppose, for there was no reason about the matter, I varied my route to +and from the Uninhabited House, as much as the nature of the roads +permitted. Further, I ceased to be punctual as to my hours of business, +sometimes arriving at the office late, and, if Mr. Craven had anything +for me to do Cityward, returning direct from thence to River Hall +without touching Buckingham Street. +</p> + +<p> +By this time February had drawn to a close, and better weather might +therefore have been expected; instead of which, one evening as I paced +westward, snow began to fall, and continued coming down till somewhere +about midnight. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning Mrs. Stott drew my attention to certain footmarks on the +walks, and beneath the library and drawing-room windows—the footmarks, +evidently, of a man whose feet were not a pair. With the keenest +interest, I examined these traces of a human pursuer. Clearly the +footprints had been made by only one person, and that person deformed in +some way. Not merely was the right foot-track different from that of the +left, but the way in which its owner put it to the ground must have been +different also. The one mark was clear and distinct, cut out in the snow +with a firm tread, while the other left a little broken bank at its +right edge, and scarcely any impression of the heel. +</p> + +<p> +"Slightly lame," I decided. "Eases his right foot, and has his boots +made to order." +</p> + +<p> +"It is very odd," I remarked aloud to Mrs. Stott. +</p> + +<p> +"That it is, sir," she answered; adding, "I hope to gracious none of +them mobsmen are going to come burglaring here!" "Pooh!" I replied; +"there is nothing for them to steal, except chairs and tables, and I +don't think one man could carry many of them away." +</p> + +<p> +The whole of that day I found my thoughts reverting to those foot-marks +in the snow. What purpose anyone proposed to serve by prowling about +River Hall I could not imagine. Before taking up my residence in the +Uninhabited House, I had a theory that some malicious person or persons +was trying to keep the place unoccupied—nay, further, imagination +suggested the idea that, owing to its proximity to the river, Mr. +Elmsdale's Hall might have taken the fancy of a gang of smugglers, who +had provided for themselves means of ingress and egress unknown to the +outside world. But all notions of this kind now seemed preposterous. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, but surely, the conviction had been gaining upon me that, let +the mystery of River Hall be what it would, no ordinary explanation +could account for the phenomena which it had presented to tenant after +tenant; and my own experiences in the house, slight though they were, +tended to satisfy me there was something beyond malice or interest at +work about the place. +</p> + +<p> +The very peace vouchsafed to me seemed another element of mystery, since +it would certainly have been natural for any evil-disposed person to +inaugurate a series of ghostly spectacles for the benefit of an +investigator like myself; and yet, somehow, the absence of supernatural +appearances, and the presence of that shadowy human being who thought it +worth while to track my movements, and who had at last left tangible +proof of his reality behind him in the snow, linked themselves together +in my mind. +</p> + +<p> +"If there is really anyone watching me," I finally decided, "there must +be a deeper mystery attached to River Hall than has yet been suspected. +Now, the first thing is to make sure that some one is watching me, and +the next to guard against danger from him." +</p> + +<p> +In the course of the day, I made a, for me, curious purchase. In a +little shop, situated in a back street, I bought half a dozen reels of +black sewing-cotton. +</p> + +<p> +This cotton, on my return home, I attached to the trellis-work outside +the drawing-room window, and wound across the walk and round such trees +and shrubs as grew in positions convenient for my purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"If these threads are broken to-morrow morning, I shall know I have a +flesh-and-blood foe to encounter," I thought. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning I found all the threads fastened across the walks leading +round by the library and drawing-room snapped in two. +</p> + +<p> +It was, then, flesh and blood I had come out to fight, and I decided +that night to keep watch. +</p> + +<p> +As usual, I went up to my bedroom, and, after keeping the gas burning +for about the time I ordinarily spent in undressing, put out the light, +softly turned the handle of the door, stole, still silently, along the +passage, and so into a large apartment with windows which overlooked +both the library and drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +It was here, I knew, that Miss Elmsdale must have heard her father +walking past the door, and I am obliged to confess that, as I stepped +across the room, a nervous chill seemed for the moment to take my +courage captive. +</p> + +<p> +If any reader will consider the matter, mine was not an enviable +position. Alone in a desolate house, reputed to be haunted, watching +for some one who had sufficient interest in the place to watch it and +me closely. +</p> + +<p> +It was still early—not later than half-past ten. I had concluded to +keep my vigil until after midnight, and tried to while away the time +with thoughts foreign to the matter in hand. +</p> + +<p> +All in vain, however. Let me force what subject I pleased upon my +mind, it reverted persistently to Mr. Elmsdale and the circumstances +of his death. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did he commit suicide?" I speculated. "If he had lost money, was +that any reason why he should shoot himself?" +</p> + +<p> +People had done so, I was aware; and people, probably, would continue to +do so; but not hard-headed, hard-hearted men, such as Robert Elmsdale +was reputed to have been. He was not so old that the achievement of a +second success should have seemed impossible. His credit was good, his +actual position unsuspected. River Hall, unhaunted, was not a bad +property, and in those days he could have sold it advantageously. +</p> + +<p> +I could not understand the motive of his suicide, unless, indeed, he was +mad or drunk at the time. And then I began to wonder whether anything +about his life had come out on the inquest—anything concerning habits, +associates, and connections. Had there been any other undercurrent, +besides betting, in his life brought out in evidence, which might help +me to a solution of the mystery? +</p> + +<p> +"I will ask Mr. Craven to-morrow," I thought, "whether he has a copy of +the <i>Times</i>, containing a report of the inquest. Perhaps—" +</p> + +<p> +What possibility I was about to suggest to my own mind I shall never now +know, for at that moment there flamed out upon the garden a broad, +strong flame of light—a flame which came so swiftly and suddenly, that +a man, creeping along the River Walk, had not time to step out of its +influence before I had caught full sight of him. There was not much to +see, however. A man about the middle height, muffled in a cloak, wearing +a cap, the peak of which was drawn down over his forehead: that was all +I could discern, ere, cowering back from the light, he stole away into +the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Had I yielded to my first impulse, I should have rushed after him in +pursuit; but an instant's reflection told me how worse than futile such +a wild-goose chase must prove. Cunning must be met with cunning, +watching with watching. +</p> + +<p> +If I could discover who he was, I should have taken the first step +towards solving the mystery of River Hall; but I should never do so by +putting him on his guard. The immediate business lying at that moment to +my hand was to discover whence came the flare of light which, streaming +across the walk, had revealed the intruder's presence to me. For that +business I can truthfully say I felt little inclination. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, it had to be undertaken. So, walking downstairs, I +unlocked and opened the library-door, and found, as I anticipated, the +room in utter darkness. I examined the fastenings of the shutters—they +were secure as I had left them; I looked into the strong-room—not even +a rat lay concealed there; I turned the cocks of the gas lights—but no +gas whistled through the pipes, for the service to the library was +separate from that of the rest of the house, and capable of being shut +off at pleasure. I, mindful of the lights said to have been seen +emanating from that room, had taken away the key from the internal tap, +so that gas could not be used without my knowledge or the possession of +a second key. Therefore, as I have said, it was no surprise to me to +find the library in darkness. Nor could I say the fact of the light +flaring, apparently, from a closely-shut-up room surprised me either. +For a long time I had been expecting to see this phenomenon: now, when I +did see it, I involuntarily connected the light, the apartment, and the +stranger together. +</p> + +<p> +For he was no ghost. Ghosts do not leave footmarks behind them in the +snow. Ghosts do not break threads of cotton. It was a man I had seen in +the garden, and it was my business to trace out the connection between +him and the appearances at River Hall. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking thus, I left the library, extinguished the candle by the aid of +which I had made the investigations stated above, and after lowering the +gaslight I always kept burning in the hall, began ascending the broad, +handsome staircase, when I was met by the figure of a man descending the +steps. I say advisedly, the figure; because, to all external appearance, +he was as much a living man as myself. +</p> + +<p> +And yet I knew the thing which came towards me was not flesh and +blood. Knew it when I stood still, too much stupefied to feel afraid. +Knew it, as the figure descended swiftly, noiselessly. Knew it, as, +for one instant, we were side by side. Knew it, when I put out my hand +to stop its progress, and my hand, encountering nothing, passed +through the phantom as through air. Knew, it, when I saw the figure +pass through the door I had just locked, and which opened to admit the +ghostly visitor—opened wide, and then closed again, without the help +of mortal hand. +</p> + +<p> +After that I knew nothing more till I came to my senses again and found +myself half lying, half sitting on the staircase, with my head resting +against the banisters. I had fainted; but if any man thinks I saw in a +vision what I have described, let him wait till he reaches the end of +this story before expressing too positive an opinion about the matter. +</p> + +<p> +How I passed the remainder of that night, I could scarcely tell. +Towards morning, however, I fell asleep, and it was quite late when I +awoke: so late, in fact, that Mrs. Stott had rung for admittance +before I was out of bed. +</p> + +<p> +That morning two curious things occurred: one, the postman brought a +letter for the late owner of River Hall, and dropped it in the box; +another, Mrs. Stott asked me if I would allow her and two of the +children to take up their residence at the Uninhabited House. She +could not manage to pay her rent, she explained, and some kind +friends had offered to maintain the elder children if she could keep +the two youngest. +</p> + +<p> +"And I thought, sir, seeing how many spare rooms there are here, and the +furniture wanting cleaning, and the windows opening when the sun is out, +that perhaps you would not object to my staying here altogether. I +should not want any more wages, sir, and I would do my best to give +satisfaction." +</p> + +<p> +For about five minutes I considered this proposition, made to me whilst +sitting at breakfast, and decided in favour of granting her request. I +felt satisfied she was not in league with the person or persons engaged +in watching my movements; it would be well to have some one in care of +the premises during my absence, and it would clearly be to her interest +to keep her place at River Hall, if possible. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, when she brought in my boots, I told her she could remove +at once if she liked. +</p> + +<p> +"Only remember one thing, Mrs. Stott," I said. "If you find any ghosts +in the dark corners, you must not come to me with any complaints." +</p> + +<p> +"I sleep sound, sir," she answered, "and I don't think any ghosts will +trouble me in the daytime. So thank you, sir; I will bring over a few +things and stay here, if you please." +</p> + +<p> +"Very good; here is the key of the back door," I answered; and in five +minutes more I was trudging Londonward. +</p> + +<p> +As I walked along I decided not to say anything to Mr. Craven concerning +the previous night's adventures; first, because I felt reluctant to +mention the apparition, and secondly, because instinct told me I should +do better to keep my own counsel, and confide in no one, till I had +obtained some clue to the mystery of that midnight watcher. +</p> + +<p> +"Now here's a very curious thing!" said Mr. Craven, after he had opened +and read the letter left at River Hall that morning. "This is from a man +who has evidently not heard of Mr. Elmsdale's death, and who writes to +say how much he regrets having been obliged to leave England without +paying his I O U held by my client. To show that, though he may have +seemed dishonest, he never meant to cheat Mr. Elmsdale, he encloses a +draft on London for the principal and interest of the amount due." +</p> + +<p> +"Very creditable to him," I remarked. "What is the amount, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! the total is under a hundred pounds," answered Mr. Craven; "but +what I meant by saying the affair seemed curious is this: amongst Mr. +Elmsdale's papers there was not an I O U of any description." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that is singular," I observed; then asked, "Do you think Mr. +Elmsdale had any other office besides the library at River Hall?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," was the reply, "none whatever. When he gave up his offices in +town, he moved every one of his papers to River Hall. He was a reserved, +but not a secret man; not a man, for instance, at all likely to lead a +double life of any sort." +</p> + +<p> +"And yet he betted," I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly that does puzzle me," said Mr. Craven. "And it is all against +my statement, for I am certain no human being, unless it might be Mr. +Harringford, who knew him in business, was aware of the fact." +</p> + +<p> +"And what is your theory about the absence of all-important documents?" +I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"I think he must have raised money on them," answered Mr. Craven. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you aware whether anyone else ever produced them?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not; I never heard of their being produced: but, then, I should +not have been likely to hear." Which was very true, but very +unsatisfactory. Could we succeed in tracing even one of those papers, a +clue might be found to the mystery of Mr. Elmsdale's suicide. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon I repaired to the house of one of our clients, who had, I +knew, a file of the <i>Times</i> newspapers, and asked him to allow me to +look at it. +</p> + +<p> +I could, of course, have seen a file at many places in the city, but I +preferred pursuing my investigations where no one was likely to watch +the proceeding. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Times!</i> bless my soul, yes; only too happy to be able to oblige Mr. +Craven. Walk into the study, there is a good fire, make yourself quite +at home, I beg, and let me send you a glass of wine." +</p> + +<p> +All of which I did, greatly to the satisfaction of the dear old +gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Turning over the file for the especial year in which Mr. Elmsdale had +elected to put a pistol to his head, I found at last the account of the +inquest, which I copied out in shorthand, to be able to digest it more +fully at leisure; and as it was growing dusk, wended my way back to +Buckingham Street. +</p> + +<p> +As I was walking slowly down one side of the street, I noticed a man +standing within the open door of a house near Buckingham Gate. +</p> + +<p> +At any other time I should not have given the fact a second thought, but +life at River Hall seemed to have endowed me with the power of making +mountains out of molehills, of regarding the commonest actions of my +fellows with distrust and suspicion; and I was determined to know more +of the gentleman who stood back in the shadow, peering out into the +darkening twilight. +</p> + +<p> +With this object I ran upstairs to the clerk's office, and then passed +into Mr. Craven's room. He had gone, but his lamp was still burning, and +I took care to move between it and the window, so as to show myself to +any person who might be watching outside; then, without removing hat or +top-coat, I left the room, and proceeded to Taylor's office, which I +found in utter darkness. This was what I wanted; I wished to see without +being seen; and across the way, standing now on the pavement, was the +man I had noticed, looking up at our offices. +</p> + +<p> +"All right," thought I, and running downstairs, I went out again, and +walked steadily up Buckingham Street, along John Street, up Adam Street, +as though <i>en route</i> to the Strand. Before, however, I reached that +thoroughfare, I paused, hesitated, and then immediately and suddenly +wheeled round and retraced my steps, meeting, as I did so, a man walking +a few yards behind me and at about the same pace. +</p> + +<p> +I did not slacken my speed for a moment as we came face to face; I did +not turn to look back after him; I retraced my steps to the office; +affected to look out some paper, and once again pursued my former route, +this time without meeting or being followed by anyone, and made my way +into the City, where I really had business to transact. +</p> + +<p> +I could have wished for a longer and a better look at the man who +honoured me so far as to feel interested in my movements; but I did not +wish to arouse his suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +I had scored one trick; I had met him full, and seen his face +distinctly—so distinctly that I was able to feel certain I had seen it +before, but where, at the moment, I could not remember. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind," I continued: "that memory will come in due time; meanwhile +the ground of inquiry narrows, and the plot begins to thicken." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap11"></a> +11. MISS BLAKE ONCE MORE +</h3> + +<p> +Upon my return to River Hall I found in the letter-box an envelope +addressed to —— Patterson, Esq. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking it probably contained some circular, I did not break the seal +until after dinner; whereas, had I only known from whom the note came, +should I not have devoured its contents before satisfying the pangs of +physical hunger! +</p> + +<p> +Thus ran the epistle:— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + "DEAR SIR,— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + "Until half an hour ago I was ignorant that you were the person who + had undertaken to reside at River Hall. If you would add another + obligation to that already conferred upon me, <i>leave that terrible + house at once</i>. What I have seen in it, you know; what may happen to + you, if you persist in remaining there, I tremble to think. For the + sake of your widowed mother and only sister, you ought not to expose + yourself to a risk which is <i>worse than useless</i>. I never wish to + hear of River Hall being let again. Immediately I come of age, I + shall sell the place; and if anything could give me happiness in + this world, it would be to hear the house was razed to the ground. + Pray! pray! listen to a warning, which, believe me, is not idly + given, and leave a place which has already been the cause of so much + misery to yours, gratefully and sincerely, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + "HELENA ELMSDALE." +</p> + +<p> +It is no part of this story to tell the rapture with which I gazed upon +the writing of my "lady-love." Once I had heard Miss Blake remark, when +Mr. Craven was remonstrating with her on her hieroglyphics, that "Halana +wrote an 'unmaning hand,' like all the rest of the English," and, to +tell the truth, there was nothing particularly original or +characteristic about Miss Elmsdale's calligraphy. +</p> + +<p> +But what did that signify to me? If she had strung pearls together, I +should not have valued them one-half so much as I did the dear words +which revealed her interest in me. +</p> + +<p> +Over and over I read the note, at first rapturously, afterwards with a +second feeling mingling with my joy. How did she know it was I who had +taken up my residence at River Hall? Not a soul I knew in London, +besides Mr. Craven, was aware of the fact, and he had promised +faithfully to keep my secret. +</p> + +<p> +Where, then, had Miss Elmsdale obtained her information? from whom +had she learned that I was bent on solving the mystery of the +"Uninhabited House"? +</p> + +<p> +I puzzled myself over these questions till my brain grew uneasy with +vain conjectures. +</p> + +<p> +Let me imagine what I would—let me force my thoughts into what grooves +I might—the moment the mental pressure was removed, my suspicions +fluttered back to the man whose face seemed not unfamiliar. +</p> + +<p> +"I am confident he wants to keep that house vacant," I decided. "Once +let me discover who he is, and the mystery of the 'Uninhabited House' +shall not long remain a mystery." +</p> + +<p> +But then the trouble chanced to be how to find out who he was. I could +not watch and be watched at the same time, and I did not wish to take +anyone into my confidence, least of all a professional detective. +</p> + +<p> +So far fortune had stood my friend; I had learnt something suspected by +no one else, and I made up my mind to trust to the chapter of accidents +for further information on the subject of my unknown friend. +</p> + +<p> +When Mr. Craven and I were seated at our respective tables, I +said to him: +</p> + +<p> +"Could you make any excuse to send me to Miss Blake's to-day, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven looked up in utter amazement. "To Miss Blake's!" he repeated. +"Why do you want to go there?" +</p> + +<p> +"I want to see Miss Elmsdale," I answered, quietly enough, though I felt +the colour rising in my face as I spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"You had better put all that nonsense on one side, Patterson," he +remarked. "What you have to do is to make your way in the world, and you +will not do that so long as your head is running upon pretty girls. +Helena Elmsdale is a good girl; but she would no more be a suitable wife +for you, than you would be a suitable husband for her. Stick to law, my +lad, for the present, and leave love for those who have nothing more +important to think of." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not want to see Miss Elmsdale for the purpose you imply," I said, +smiling at the vehemence of Mr. Craven's advice. "I only wish to ask her +one question." +</p> + +<p> +"What is the question?" +</p> + +<p> +"From whom she learned that I was in residence at River Hall," I +answered, after a moment's hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +"What makes you think she is aware of that fact?" he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"I received a note from her last night, entreating me to leave the +place, and intimating that some vague peril menaced me if I persisted in +remaining there." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor child! poor Helena!" said Mr. Craven, thoughtfully; then spreading +a sheet of note-paper on his blotting-pad, and drawing his cheque-book +towards him, he proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +"Now remember, Patterson, I trust to your honour implicitly. You must +not make love to that girl; I think a man can scarcely act more +dishonourably towards a woman, than to induce her to enter into what +must be, under the best circumstances, a very long engagement." +</p> + +<p> +"You may trust me, sir," I answered, earnestly. "Not," I added, "that I +think it would be a very easy matter to make love to anyone with Miss +Blake sitting by." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven laughed; he could not help doing so at the idea I had +suggested. Then he said, "I had a letter from Miss Blake this morning +asking me for money." +</p> + +<p> +"And you are going to let her have some of that hundred pounds you +intended yesterday to place against her indebtedness to you," I +suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"That is so," he replied. "Of course, when Miss Helena comes of age, we +must turn over a new leaf—we really must." +</p> + +<p> +To this I made no reply. It would be a most extraordinary leaf, I +considered, in which Miss Blake did not appear as debtor to my +employer but it scarcely fell within my province to influence Mr. +Craven's actions. +</p> + +<p> +"You had better ask Miss Blake to acknowledge receipt of this," said my +principal, holding up a cheque for ten pounds as he spoke. "I am afraid +I have not kept the account as I ought to have done." +</p> + +<p> +Which was undeniably true, seeing we had never taken a receipt from +her at all, and that loans had been debited to his private account +instead of to that of Miss Blake. But true as it was, I only answered +that I would get her acknowledgment; and taking my hat, I walked off +to Hunter Street. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived there, I found, to my unspeakable joy, that Miss Blake was out, +and Miss Elmsdale at home. +</p> + +<p> +When I entered the shabby sitting-room where her beauty was so +grievously lodged, she rose and greeted me with kindly words, and sweet +smiles, and vivid blushes. +</p> + +<p> +"You have come to tell me you are not going ever again to that dreadful +house," she said, after the first greeting and inquiries for Miss Blake +were over. "You cannot tell the horror with which the mere mention of +River Hall now fills me." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope it will never be mentioned to you again till I have solved the +mystery attached to it," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you will not do what I ask," she cried, almost despairingly. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot," was my reply. "Miss Elmsdale, you would not have a soldier +turn back from the battle. I have undertaken to find out the secret +attached to your old home, and, please God, I shall succeed in my +endeavours." +</p> + +<p> +"But you are exposing yourself to danger, to—" +</p> + +<p> +"I must take my chance of that. I cannot, if I would, turn back now, and +I would not if I could. But I have come to you for information. How did +you know it was I who had gone to River Hall?" +</p> + +<p> +The colour flamed up in her face as I put the question. +</p> + +<p> +"I—I was told so," she stammered out. +</p> + +<p> +"May I ask by whom?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, Mr. Patterson, you may not," she replied. "A—a friend—a kind +friend, informed me of the fact, and spoke of the perils to which you +were exposing yourself—living there all alone—all alone," she +repeated. "I would not pass a night in the house again if the whole +parish were there to keep me company, and what must it be to stay in +that terrible, terrible place alone! You are here, perhaps, because you +do not believe—because you have not seen." +</p> + +<p> +"I do believe," I interrupted, "because I have seen; and yet I mean to +go through with the matter to the end. Have you a likeness of your +father in your possession, Miss Elmsdale?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a miniature copied from his portrait, which was of course +too large to carry from place to place," she answered. "Why do you +wish to know?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you let me see it, I will reply to your question," I said. +</p> + +<p> +Round her dear throat she wore a thin gold chain. Unfastening this, she +handed to me the necklet, to which was attached a locket enamelled in +black. It is no exaggeration to say, as I took this piece of personal +property, my hand trembled so much that I could not open the case. +</p> + +<p> +True love is always bashful, and I loved the girl, whose slender +neck the chain had caressed, so madly and senselessly, if you will, +that I felt as if the trinket were a living thing, a part and parcel +of herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me unfasten it," she said, unconscious that aught save awkwardness +affected my manipulation of the spring. And she took the locket and +handed it back to me open, wet with tears—her tears. +</p> + +<p> +Judge how hard it was for me then to keep my promise to Mr. Craven and +myself—how hard it was to refrain from telling her all my reasons for +having ever undertaken to fight the dragon installed at River Hall. +</p> + +<p> +I thank God I did refrain. Had I spoken then, had I presumed upon her +sorrow and her simplicity, I should have lost something which +constitutes the sweetest memory of my life. +</p> + +<p> +But that is in the future of this story, and meantime I was looking at +the face of her father. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at it long and earnestly; then I closed the locket, softly +pressing down the spring as I did so, and gave back miniature and chain +into her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mr. Patterson?" she said, inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you bear what I have to tell?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I can, whatever it may be," she answered. +</p> + +<p> +"I have seen that face at River Hall." +</p> + +<p> +She threw up her arms with a gesture of despair. +</p> + +<p> +"And," I went on, "I may be wrong, but I think I am destined to solve +the mystery of its appearance." +</p> + +<p> +She covered her eyes, and there was silence between us for a minute, +when I said: +</p> + +<p> +"Can you give me the name of the person who told you I was at +River Hall?" +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot," she repeated. "I promised not to mention it." +</p> + +<p> +"He said I was in danger." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, living there all alone." +</p> + +<p> +"And he wished you to warn me." +</p> + +<p> +"No; he asked my aunt to do so, and she refused; and so I—I thought I +would write to you without mentioning the matter to her." +</p> + +<p> +"You have done me an incalculable service," I remarked, "and in return I +will tell you something." +</p> + +<p> +"What is that?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"From to-night I shall not be alone in the house." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! how thankful I am!" she exclaimed; then instantly added, "Here +is my aunt." +</p> + +<p> +I rose as Miss Blake entered, and bowed. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! it is you, is it?" said the lady. "The girl told me some one +was waiting." +</p> + +<p> +Hot and swift ran the colour to my adored one's cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt," she observed, "I think you forget this gentleman comes from +Mr. Craven." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no! my dear, I don't forget Mr. Craven, or his clerks either," +responded Miss Blake, as, still cloaked and bonneted, she tore open Mr. +Craven's envelope. +</p> + +<p> +"I am to take back an answer, I think," said I. +</p> + +<p> +"You are, I see," she answered. "He's getting mighty particular, is +William Craven. I suppose he thinks I am going to cheat him out of his +paltry ten pounds. Ten pounds, indeed! and what is that, I should like +to know, to us in our present straits! Why, I had more than twice ten +yesterday from a man on whom we have no claim—none whatever—who, +without asking, offered it in our need." +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt," said Miss Elmsdale, warningly. +</p> + +<p> +"If you will kindly give me your acknowledgment, Miss Blake, I should +like to be getting back to Buckingham Street," I said. "Mr. Craven will +wonder at my absence." +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit of it," retorted Miss Blake. "You and Mr. Craven understand +each other, or I am very much mistaken; but here is the receipt, and +good day to you." +</p> + +<p> +I should have merely bowed my farewell, but that Miss Elmsdale stood up +valiantly. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Mr. Patterson," she said, holding out her dainty hand, and +letting it lie in mine while she spoke. "I am very much obliged to you. +I can never forget what you have done and dared in our interests." +</p> + +<p> +And I went out of the room, and descended the stairs, and opened the +front door, she looking graciously over the balusters the while, happy, +ay, and more than happy. +</p> + +<p> +What would I not have done and dared at that moment for Helena Elmsdale? +Ah! ye lovers, answer! +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap12"></a> +12. HELP +</h3> + +<p> +"There has been a gentleman to look at the house, sir, this afternoon," +said Mrs. Stott to me, when, wet and tired, I arrived, a few evenings +after my interview with Miss Elmsdale, at River Hall. +</p> + +<p> +"To look at the house!" I repeated. "Why, it is not to let." +</p> + +<p> +"I know that, sir, but he brought an order from Mr. Craven's office to +allow him to see over the place, and to show him all about. For a widow +lady from the country, he said he wanted it. A very nice gentleman, sir; +only he did ask a lot of questions, surely—" +</p> + +<p> +"What sort of questions?" I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! as to why the tenants did not stop here, and if I thought there was +anything queer about the place; and he asked how you liked it, and how +long you were going to stay; and if you had ever seen aught strange in +the house. +</p> + +<p> +"He spoke about you, sir, as if he knew you quite well, and said you +must be stout-hearted to come and fight the ghosts all by yourself. A +mighty civil, talkative gentleman—asked me if I felt afraid of living +here, and whether I had ever met any spirits walking about the stairs +and passages by themselves." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he leave the order you spoke of just now behind him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir. He wanted me to give it back to him; but I said I must keep +it for you to see. So then he laughed, and made the remark that he +supposed, if he brought the lady to see the place, I would let him in +again. A pleasant-spoken gentleman, sir—gave me a shilling, though I +told him I did not require it." +</p> + +<p> +Meantime I was reading the order, written by Taylor, and dated two +years back. +</p> + +<p> +"What sort of looking man was he?" I asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sir, there was not anything particular about him in any way. +Not a tall gentleman, not near so tall as you, sir; getting into +years, but still very active and light-footed, though with something +of a halt in his way of walking. I could not rightly make out what it +was; nor what it was that caused him to look a little crooked when you +saw him from behind. +</p> + +<p> +"Very lean, sir; looked as if the dinners he had eaten done him no good. +Seemed as if, for all his pleasant ways, he must have seen trouble, his +face was so worn-like." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he say if he thought the house would suit?" I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"He said it was a very nice house, sir, and that he imagined anybody not +afraid of ghosts might spend two thousand a year in it very comfortably. +He said he should bring the lady to see the place, and asked me +particularly if I was always at hand, in case he should come tolerably +early in the morning." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" was my comment, and I walked into the dining-room, wondering what +the meaning of this new move might be; for Mrs. Stott had described, to +the best of her ability, the man who stood watching our offices in +London; and—good heavens!—yes, the man I had encountered in the lane +leading to River Hall, when I went to the Uninhabited House, after +Colonel Morris' departure. +</p> + +<p> +"That is the man," thought I, "and he has some close, and deep, and +secret interest in the mystery associated with this place, the origin of +which I must discover." +</p> + +<p> +Having arrived at this conclusion, I went to bed, for I had caught a bad +cold, and was aching from head to foot, and had been sleeping ill, and +hoped to secure a good night's rest. +</p> + +<p> +I slept, it is true, but as for rest, I might as well, or better, have +been awake. I fell from one dream into another; found myself wandering +through impossible places; started in an agony of fear, and then dozed +again, only to plunge into some deeper quagmire of trouble; and through +all there was a vague feeling I was pursuing a person who eluded all my +efforts to find him; playing a terrible game of hide-and-seek with a man +who always slipped away from my touch, panting up mountains and running +down declivities after one who had better wind and faster legs than I; +peering out into the darkness, to catch a sight of a vague figure +standing somewhere in the shadow, and looking, with the sun streaming +into my eyes and blinding me, adown long white roads filled with a +multitude of people, straining my sight to catch a sight of the coming +traveller, who yet never came. +</p> + +<p> +When I awoke thoroughly, as I did long and long before daybreak, I knew +I was ill. I had a bad sore throat and an oppression at my chest which +made me feel as if I was breathing through a sponge. My limbs ached more +than had been the case on the previous evening whilst my head felt +heavier than a log of teak. +</p> + +<p> +"What should I do if I were to have a bad illness in that house?" I +wondered to myself, and for a few minutes I pondered over the expediency +of returning home; but this idea was soon set aside. +</p> + +<p> +Where could I go that the Uninhabited House would not be a haunting +presence? I had tried running away from it once before, and found it +more real to me in the King's Road, Brighton, than on the banks of the +Thames. No!—ill or well, I would stay on; the very first night of my +absence might be the night of possible explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Having so decided, I dressed and proceeded to the office, remaining +there, however, only long enough to write a note to Mr. Craven, saying I +had a very bad cold, and begging him to excuse my attendance. +</p> + +<p> +After that I turned my steps to Munro's lodgings. If it were possible +to avert an illness, I had no desire to become invalided in Mr. +Elmsdale's Hall. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately, Munro was at home and at dinner. "Just come in time, old +fellow," he said, cheerily. "It is not one day in a dozen you would have +found me here at this hour. Sit down, and have some steak. Can't +eat—why, what's the matter, man? You don't mean to say you have got +another nervous attack. If you have, I declare I shall lodge a complaint +against you with Mr. Craven." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not nervous," I answered; "but I have caught cold, and I want you +to put me to rights." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait till I have finished my dinner," he replied; and then he proceeded +to cut himself another piece of steak—having demolished which, and seen +cheese placed on the table, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Harry, we'll get to business, if you please. Where is this cold +you were talking about?" +</p> + +<p> +I explained as well as I could, and he listened to me without +interruption. When I had quite finished, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Hal Patterson, you are either becoming a hypochondriac, or you are +treating me to half confidences. Your cold is not worth speaking about. +Go home, and get to bed, and take a basin of gruel, or a glass of +something hot, after you are in bed, and your cold will be well in the +morning. But there is something more than a cold the matter with you. +What has come to you, to make a few rheumatic pains and a slight sore +throat seem of consequence in your eyes?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid of being ill," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"Why are you afraid of being ill? why do you imagine you are going to be +ill? why should you fall ill any more than anybody else?" +</p> + +<p> +I sat silent for a minute, then I said, "Ned, if I tell you, will you +promise upon your honour not to laugh at me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I won't, if I can help it. I don't fancy I shall feel inclined to +laugh," he replied. +</p> + +<p> +"And unless I give you permission, you will not repeat what I am going +to tell you to anyone?" +</p> + +<p> +"That I can safely promise," he said. "Go on." +</p> + +<p> +And I went on. I began at the beginning and recited all the events +chronicled in the preceding pages; and he listened, asking no questions, +interposing no remark. +</p> + +<p> +When I ceased speaking, he rose and said he must think over the +statements I had made. +</p> + +<p> +"I will come and look you up to-night, Patterson," he observed. "Go home +to River Hall, and keep yourself quiet. Don't mention that you feel ill. +Let matters go on as usual. I will be with you about nine. I have an +appointment now that I must keep." +</p> + +<p> +Before nine Munro appeared, hearty, healthy, vigorous as usual. +</p> + +<p> +"If this place were in Russell Square," he said, after a hasty glance +round the drawing-room, "I should not mind taking a twenty-one years' +lease of it at forty pounds a year, even if ghosts were included in the +fixtures." +</p> + +<p> +"I see you place no credence in my story," I said, a little stiffly. +</p> + +<p> +"I place every credence in your story," was the reply. "I believe you +believe it, and that is saying more than most people could say nowadays +about their friends' stories if they spoke the truth." +</p> + +<p> +It was of no use for me to express any further opinion upon the matter. +I felt if I talked for a thousand years I should still fail to convince +my listener there was anything supernatural in the appearances beheld at +River Hall. It is so easy to pooh-pooh another man's tale; it is +pleasant to explain every phenomenon that the speaker has never +witnessed; it is so hard to credit that anything absolutely +unaccountable on natural grounds has been witnessed by your dearest +friend, that, knowing my only chance of keeping my temper and preventing +Munro gaining a victory over me was to maintain a discreet silence, I +let him talk on and strive to account for the appearances I had +witnessed in his own way. +</p> + +<p> +"Your acquaintance of the halting gait and high shoulder may or might +have some hand in the affair," he finished. "My own opinion is he has +not. The notion that you are being watched, is, if my view of the +matter be correct, only a further development of the nervous excitement +which has played you all sort of fantastic tricks since you came to +this house. If anyone does wander through the gardens, I should set him +down as a monomaniac or an intending burglar, and in any case the very +best thing you can do is to pack up your traps and leave River Hall to +its fate." +</p> + +<p> +I did not answer; indeed, I felt too sick at heart to do so. What he +said was what other people would say. If I could not evolve some clearer +theory than I had yet been able to hit on, I should be compelled to +leave the mystery of River Hall just as I had found it. Miss Blake had, +I knew, written to Mr. Craven that the house had better be let again, as +there "was no use in his keeping a clerk there in free lodgings for +ever": and now came Ned Munro, with his worldly wisdom, to assure me +mine was a wild-goose chase, and that the only sensible course for me to +pursue was to abandon it altogether. For the first time, I felt +disheartened about the business, and I suppose I showed my +disappointment, for Munro, drawing his chair nearer to me, laid a +friendly hand on my shoulder and said: +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer up, Harry! never look so downhearted because your nervous system +has been playing you false. It was a plucky thing to do, and to carry +out; but you have suffered enough for honour, and I should not continue +the experiment of trying how much you can suffer, were I in your shoes." +</p> + +<p> +"You are very kind, Munro," I answered; "but I cannot give up. If I had +all the wish in the world to leave here to-night, a will stronger than +my own would bring me back here to-morrow. The place haunts me. Believe +me, I suffer less from its influence, seated in this room, than when I +am in the office or walking along the Strand." +</p> + +<p> +"Upon the same principle, I suppose, that a murderer always carries the +memory of his victim's face about with him; though he may have felt +callously indifferent whilst the body was an actual presence." +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely," I agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"But then, my dear fellow, you are not a murderer in any sense of the +word. You did not create the ghosts supposed to be resident here." +</p> + +<p> +"No; but I feel bound to find out who did," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"That is, if you can, I suppose?" he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel certain I shall," was the answer. "I have an idea in my mind, +but it wants shape. There is a mystery, I am convinced, to solve which, +only the merest hint is needed." +</p> + +<p> +"There are a good many things in this world in the same position, I +should say," answered Munro. "However, Patterson, we won't argue about +the matter; only there is one thing upon which I am determined—after +this evening, I will come and stay here every night. I can say I am +going to sleep out of town. Then, if there are ghosts, we can hunt them +together; if there are none, we shall rest all the better. Do you agree +to that?" and he held out his hand, which I clasped in mine, with a +feeling of gratitude and relief impossible to describe. +</p> + +<p> +As he said, I had done enough for honour; but still I could not give +up, and here was the support and help I required so urgently, ready +for my need. +</p> + +<p> +"I am so much obliged," I said at last. +</p> + +<p> +"Pooh! nonsense!" he answered. "You would do as much or more for me any +day. There, don't let us get sentimental. You must not come out, but, +following the example of your gallant Colonel Morris, I will, if you +please, smoke a cigar in the garden. The moon must be up by this time." +</p> + +<p> +I drew back the curtains and unfastened the shutter, which offered +egress to the grounds, then, having rung for Mrs. Stott to remove the +supper-tray, I sat down by the fire to await Munro's return, and began +musing concerning the hopelessness of my position, the gulf of poverty +and prejudice and struggle that lay between Helena and myself. +</p> + +<p> +I was determined to win her; but the prize seemed unattainable as the +Lord Mayor's robes must have appeared to Whittington, when he stood at +the foot of Highgate Hill; and, prostrated as I was by that subtle +malady to which as yet Munro had given no name, the difficulties grew +into mountains, the chances of success dwarfed themselves into +molehills. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst thus thinking vaguely, purposelessly, but still most miserably, I +was aroused from reverie by the noise of a door being shut cautiously +and carefully—an outer door, and yet one with the sound of which I was +unacquainted. +</p> + +<p> +Hurrying across the hall, I flung the hall-door wide, and looked out +into the night. There was sufficient moonlight to have enabled me to +discern any object moving up or down the lane, but not a creature was in +sight, not a cat or dog even traversed the weird whiteness of that +lonely thoroughfare. +</p> + +<p> +Despite Munro's dictum, I passed out into the night air, and went down +to the very banks of the Thames. There was not a boat within hail. The +nearest barge lay a couple of hundred yards from the shore. +</p> + +<p> +As I retraced my steps, I paused involuntarily beside the door, which +led by a separate entrance to the library. +</p> + +<p> +"That is the door which shut," I said to myself, pressing my hand gently +along the lintel, and sweeping the hitherto unbroken cobwebs away as I +did so. "If my nerves are playing me false this time, the sooner their +tricks are stopped the better, for no human being opened this door, no +living creature has passed through it." +</p> + +<p> +Having made up my mind on which points, I re-entered the house, and +walked into the drawing-room, where Munro, pale as death, stood draining +a glass of neat brandy. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter?" I cried, hurriedly. "What have you seen, what—" +</p> + +<p> +"Let me alone for awhile," he interrupted, speaking in a thick, hoarse +whisper; then immediately asked, "Is that the library with the windows +nearest the river?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"I want to go into that room," he said, still in the same tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Not now," I entreated. "Sit down and compose yourself; we will go into +it, if you like, before you leave." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, now—this minute," he persisted. "I tell you, Patterson, I must +see what is in it." +</p> + +<p> +Attempting no further opposition, I lit a couple of candles, and giving +one into his hand, led the way to the door of the library, which I +unlocked and flung wide open. +</p> + +<p> +To one particular part Munro directed his steps, casting the light +from his candle on the carpet, peering around in search of something +he hoped, and yet still feared, to see. Then he went to the shutters +and examined the fastenings, and finding all well secured, made a +sign for me to precede him out of the room. At the door he paused, +and took one more look into the darkness of the apartment, after +which he waited while I turned the key in the lock, accompanying me +back across the hall. +</p> + +<p> +When we were once more in the drawing-room, I renewed my inquiry as to +what he had seen; but he bade me let him alone, and sat mopping great +beads of perspiration off his forehead, till, unable to endure the +mystery any longer, I said: +</p> + +<p> +"Munro, whatever it may be that you have seen, tell me all, I entreat. +Any certainty will be better than the possibilities I shall be conjuring +up for myself." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me wearily, and then drawing his hand across his eyes, as +if trying to clear his vision, he answered, with an uneasy laugh: +</p> + +<p> +"It was nonsense, of course. I did not think I was so imaginative, but I +declare I fancied I saw, looking through the windows of that now utterly +dark room, a man lying dead on the floor." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you hear a door shut?" I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"Distinctly," he answered; "and what is more, I saw a shadow flitting +through the other door leading out of the library, which we found, if +you remember, bolted on the inside." +</p> + +<p> +"And what inference do you draw from all this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Either that some one is, in a to me unintelligible way, playing a very +clever game at River Hall, or else that I am mad." +</p> + +<p> +"You are no more mad than other people who have lived in this house," +I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know how you have done it, Patterson," he went on, unheeding my +remark. "I don't, upon my soul, know how you managed to stay on here. It +would have driven many a fellow out of his mind. I do not like leaving +you. I wish I had told my landlady I should not be back. I will, after +this time; but to-night I am afraid some patient may be wanting me." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear fellow," I answered, "the affair is new to you, but it is not +new to me. I would rather sleep alone in the haunted house, than in a +mansion filled from basement to garret, with the unsolved mystery of +this place haunting me." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you had never heard of, nor seen, nor come near it," he +exclaimed, bitterly; "but, however, let matters turn out as they will, I +mean to stick to you, Patterson. There's my hand on it." +</p> + +<p> +And he gave me his hand, which was cold as ice—cold as that of one +dead. +</p> + +<p> +"I am going to have some punch, Ned," I remarked. "That is, if you will +stop and have some." +</p> + +<p> +"All right," he answered. "Something 'hot and strong' will hurt neither +of us, but you ought to have yours in bed. May I give it to you there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense!" I exclaimed, and we drew our chairs close to the fire, and, +under the influence of a decoction which Ned insisted upon making +himself, and at making which, indeed, he was much more of an adept than +I, we talked valiantly about ghosts and their doings, and about how our +credit and happiness were bound up in finding out the reason why the +Uninhabited House was haunted. +</p> + +<p> +"Depend upon it, Hal," said Munro, putting on his coat and hat, +preparatory to taking his departure, "depend upon it that unfortunate +Robert Elmsdale must have been badly cheated by some one, and sorely +exercised in spirit, before he blew out his brains." +</p> + +<p> +To this remark, which, remembering what he had said in the middle of the +day, showed the wonderful difference that exists between theory and +practice, I made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +Unconsciously, almost, a theory had been forming in my own mind, but I +felt much corroboration of its possibility must be obtained before I +dare give it expression. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, it had taken such hold of me that I could not shake off +the impression, which was surely, though slowly, gaining ground, even +against the dictates of my better judgment. +</p> + +<p> +"I will just read over the account of the inquest once again," I +decided, as I bolted and barred the chain after Munro's departure; and +so, by way of ending the night pleasantly, I took out the report, and +studied it till two, chiming from a neighbouring church, reminded me +that the fire was out, that I had a bad cold, and that I ought to have +been between the blankets and asleep hours previously. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap13"></a> +13. LIGHT AT LAST +</h3> + +<p> +Now, whether it was owing to having gone out the evening before from a +very warm room into the night air, and, afterwards, into that chilly +library, or to having sat reading the report given about Mr. +Elmsdale's death till I grew chilled to my very marrow, I cannot say, +all I know is, that when I awoke next morning I felt very ill, and +welcomed, with rejoicing of spirit, Ned Munro, who arrived about +mid-day, and at once declared he had come to spend a fortnight with me +in the Uninhabited House. +</p> + +<p> +"I have arranged it all. Got a friend to take charge of my patients; +stated that I am going to pay a visit in the country, and so forth. And +now, how are you?" +</p> + +<p> +I told him, very truthfully, that I did not feel at all well. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you will have to get well, or else we shall never be able to +fathom this business," he said. "The first thing, consequently, I shall +do, is to write a prescription, and get it made up. After that, I mean +to take a survey of the house and grounds." +</p> + +<p> +"Do precisely what you like," I answered. "This is Liberty Hall to the +living as well as to the dead," and I laid my head on the back of the +easy-chair, and went off to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +All that day Munro seemed to feel little need of my society. He examined +every room in the house, and every square inch about the premises. He +took short walks round the adjacent neighbourhood, and made, to his own +satisfaction, a map of River Hall and the country and town thereunto +adjoining. Then he had a great fire lighted in the library, and spent +the afternoon tapping the walls, trying the floors, and trying to obtain +enlightenment from the passage which led from the library direct to the +door opening into the lane. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner, he asked me to lend him the shorthand report I had made of +the evidence given at the inquest. He made no comment upon it when he +finished reading, but sat, for a few minutes, with one hand shading his +eyes, and the other busily engaged in making some sort of a sketch on +the back of an old letter. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you doing, Munro?" I asked, at last. +</p> + +<p> +"You shall see presently," he answered, without looking up, or pausing +in his occupation. +</p> + +<p> +At the expiration of a few minutes, he handed me over the paper, saying: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know anyone that resembles?" +</p> + +<p> +I took the sketch, looked at it, and cried out incoherently in my +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," he went on, "who is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"The man who follows me! The man I saw in this lane!" +</p> + +<p> +"And what is his name?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is precisely what I desire to find out," I answered. "When did you +see him? How did you identify him? Why did—" +</p> + +<p> +"I have something to tell you, if you will only be quiet, and let me +speak," he interrupted. "It was, as you know, late last night before I +left here, and for that reason, and also because I was perplexed and +troubled, I walked fast—faster than even is my wont. The road was very +lonely; I scarcely met a creature along the road, flooded with the +moonlight. I never was out on a lovelier night; I had never, even in the +country, felt I had it so entirely to myself. +</p> + +<p> +"Every here and there I came within sight of the river, and it seemed, +on each occasion, as though a great mirror had been put up to make every +object on land—every house, every tree, bush, fern, more clearly +visible than it had been before. I am coming to my story, Hal, so don't +look so impatient. +</p> + +<p> +"At last, as I came once again in view of the Thames, with the moon +reflected in the water, and the dark arches of the bridge looking black +and solemn contrasted against the silvery stream, I saw before me, a +long way before me, a man whose figure stood out in relief against the +white road—a man walking wearily and with evident difficulty—a man, +too, slightly deformed. +</p> + +<p> +"I walked on rapidly, till within about a score yards of him, then I +slackened my speed, and taking care that my leisurely footsteps should +be heard, overtook him by degrees, and then, when I was quite abreast, +asked if he could oblige me with a light. +</p> + +<p> +"He looked up in my face, and said, with a forced, painful smile and +studied courtesy of manner: +</p> + +<p> +"'I am sorry, sir, to say that I do not smoke.' +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know exactly what reply I made. I know his countenance struck +me so forcibly, it was with difficulty I could utter some commonplace +remark concerning the beauty of the night. +</p> + +<p> +"'I do not like moonlight,' he said, and as he said it, something, a +connection of ideas, or a momentary speculation, came upon me so +suddenly, that once again I failed to reply coherently, but asked if he +could tell me the shortest way to the Brompton Road. +</p> + +<p> +"'To which end?' he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"'That nearest Hyde Park Corner,' I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"As it turned out, no question could have served my purpose better. +</p> + +<p> +"'I am going part of the way there,' he said, 'and will show you the +nearest route—that is,' he added, 'if you can accommodate your pace to +mine,' and he pointed, as he spoke, to his right foot, which evidently +was causing him considerable pain. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, that was something quite in my way, and by degrees I got him to +tell me about the accident which had caused his slight deformity. I told +him I was a doctor, and had been to see a patient, and so led him on to +talk about sickness and disease, till at length he touched upon diseases +of a morbid character; asking me if it were true that in some special +maladies the patient was haunted by an apparition which appeared at a +particular hour. +</p> + +<p> +"I told him it was quite true, and that such cases were peculiarly +distressing, and generally proved most difficult to cure—mentioning +several well-authenticated instances, which I do not mean to detail to +you, Patterson, as I know you have an aversion to anything savouring of +medical shop. +</p> + +<p> +"'You doctors do not believe in the actual existence of any such +apparitions, of course?' he remarked, after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +"I told him we did not; that we knew they had their rise and origin +solely in the malady of the patient. +</p> + +<p> +"'And yet,' he said, 'some ghost stories—I am not now speaking of those +associated with disease, are very extraordinary, unaccountable—' +</p> + +<p> +"'Very extraordinary, no doubt,' I answered; 'but I should hesitate +before saying unaccountable. Now, there is that River Hall place up the +river. There must be some rational way of explaining the appearances in +that house, though no one has yet found any clue to that enigma.' +</p> + +<p> +"'River Hall—where is that?' he asked; then suddenly added, 'Oh! I +remember now: you mean the Uninhabited House, as it is called. Yes, +there is a curious story, if you like. May I ask if you are interested +in any way in that matter?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Not in any way, except that I have been spending the evening there +with a friend of mine.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Has he seen anything of the reputed ghost?' asked my companion, +eagerly. 'Is he able to throw any light on the dark subject?' +</p> + +<p> +"'I don't think he can,' I replied. 'He has seen the usual appearances +which I believe it is correct to see at River Hall; but so far, they +have added nothing to his previous knowledge.' +</p> + +<p> +"'He has seen, you say?' +</p> + +<p> +"'Yes; all the orthodox lions of that cheerful house.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And still he is not daunted—he is not afraid?' +</p> + +<p> +"'He is not afraid. Honestly, putting ghosts entirely on one side, I +should not care to be in his shoes, all alone in a lonely house.' +</p> + +<p> +"'And you would be right, sir,' was the answer. 'A man must be mad to +run such a risk.' +</p> + +<p> +"'So I told him,' I agreed. +</p> + +<p> +"'Why, I would not stay in that house alone for any money which could be +offered to me,' he went on, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"'I cannot go so far as that,' I said; 'but still it must be a very +large sum which could induce me to do so.' +</p> + +<p> +"'It ought to be pulled down, sir,' he continued; 'the walls ought to be +razed to the ground.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I suppose they will,' I answered, 'when Miss Elmsdale, the owner, +comes of age; unless, indeed, our modern Don Quixote runs the ghost to +earth before that time.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Did you say the young man was ill?' asked my companion. +</p> + +<p> +"'He has got a cold,' I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"'And colds are nasty things to get rid of,' he commented, 'particularly +in those low-lying localities. That is a most unhealthy part; you ought +to order your patient a thorough change of air.' +</p> + +<p> +"'I have, but he won't take advice,' was my reply. 'He has nailed his +colours to the mast, and means, I believe, to stay in River Hall till he +kills the ghost, or the ghost kills him.' +</p> + +<p> +"'What a foolish youth!' +</p> + +<p> +"'Undoubtedly; but, then, youth is generally foolish, and we have all +our crotchets.' +</p> + +<p> +"We had reached the other side of the bridge by this time, and saying +his road lay in an opposite direction to mine, the gentleman I have +sketched told me the nearest way to take, and bade me a civil good +night, adding, 'I suppose I ought to say good morning.'" +</p> + +<p> +"And is that all?" I asked, as Munro paused. +</p> + +<p> +"Bide a wee, as the Scotch say, my son. I strode off along the road he +indicated, and then, instead of making the detour he had kindly sketched +out for my benefit, chose the first turning to my left, and, quite +convinced he would soon pass that way, took up my position in the +portico of a house which lay well in shadow. It stood a little back from +the side-path, and a poor little Arab sleeping on the stone step proved +to me the policeman was not over and above vigilant in that +neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +"I waited, Heaven only knows how long, thinking all the time I must be +mistaken, and that his home did lie in the direction he took; but at +last, looking out between the pillars and the concealing shrubs, I saw +him. He was looking eagerly into the distance, with such a drawn, worn, +painful expression, that for a moment my heart relented, and I thought I +would let the poor devil go in peace. +</p> + +<p> +"It was only for a moment, however; touching the sleeping boy, I bade +him awake, if he wanted to earn a shilling. 'Keep that gentleman in +sight, and get to know for me where he lives, and come back here, and I +will give you a shilling, and perhaps two, for your pains.' +</p> + +<p> +"With his eyes still heavy with slumber, and his perceptions for the +moment dulled, he sped after the figure, limping wearily on. I saw him +ask my late companion for charity, and follow the gentleman for a few +steps, when the latter, threatening him with his stick, the boy dodged +to escape a blow, and then, by way of showing how lightly his bosom's +load sat upon him, began turning wheels down the middle of the street. +He passed the place where I stood, and spun a hundred feet further on, +then he gathered himself together, and seeing no one in sight, +stealthily crept back to his porch again. +</p> + +<p> +"'You young rascal,' I said, 'I told you to follow him home. I want to +know his name and address particularly.' +</p> + +<p> +"'Come along, then,' he answered, 'and I'll show you. Bless you, we all +knows him—better than we do the police, or anybody hereabouts. He's a +beak and a ward up at the church, whatever that is, and he has +building-yards as big, oh! as big as two workhouses, and—'" +</p> + +<p> +"His name, Munro—his name?" I gasped. +</p> + +<p> +"Harringford." +</p> + +<p> +I expected it. I knew then that for days and weeks my suspicions had +been vaguely connecting Mr. Harringford with the mystery of the +Uninhabited House. +</p> + +<p> +This was the hiding figure in my dream, the link hitherto wanting in my +reveries concerning River Hall. I had been looking for this—waiting for +it; I understood at last; and yet, when Munro mentioned the name of the +man who had thought it worth his while to watch my movements, I shrunk +from the conclusion which forced itself upon me. +</p> + +<p> +"Must we go on to the end with this affair?" I asked, after a pause, and +my voice was so changed, it sounded like that of a stranger to me. +</p> + +<p> +"We do not yet know what the end will prove," Munro answered; "but +whatever it may be, we must not turn back now." +</p> + +<p> +"How ought we to act, do you think?" I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"We ought not to act at all," he answered. "We had better wait and see +what his next move will be. He is certain to take some step. He will try +to get you out of this house by hook or by crook. He has already striven +to effect his purpose through Miss Elmsdale, and failed. It will +therefore be necessary for him to attempt some other scheme. It is not +for me to decide on the course he is likely to pursue; but, if I were in +your place, I should stay within doors at night. I should not sit in the +dark near windows still unshuttered. I should not allow any strangers to +enter the house, and I should have a couple of good dogs running loose +about the premises. I have brought Brenda with me as a beginning, and I +think I know where to lay my hand on a good old collie, who will stay +near any house I am in, and let no one trespass about it with impunity." +</p> + +<p> +"Good heavens! Munro, you don't mean to say you think the man would +<i>murder</i> me!" I exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what he might, or might not do," he replied. "There is +something about this house he is afraid may be found out, and he is +afraid you will find it out. Unless I am greatly mistaken, a great deal +depends upon the secret being preserved intact. At present we can only +surmise its nature; but I mean, in the course of a few days, to know +more of Mr. Harringford's antecedents than he might be willing to +communicate to anyone. What is the matter with you, Hal? You look as +white as a corpse." +</p> + +<p> +"I was only thinking," I answered, "of one evening last week, when I +fell asleep in the drawing-room, and woke in a fright, imagining I saw +that horrid light streaming out from the library, and a face pressed up +close to the glass of the window on my left hand peering into the room." +</p> + +<p> +"I have no doubt the face was there," he said, gravely; "but I do not +think it will come again, so long as Brenda is alive. Nevertheless, I +should be careful. Desperate men are capable of desperate deeds." +</p> + +<p> +The first post next morning brought me a letter from Mr. Craven, which +proved Mr. Harringford entertained for the present no intention of +proceeding to extremities with me. +</p> + +<p> +He had been in Buckingham Street, so said my principal, and offered to +buy the freehold of River Hall for twelve hundred pounds. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Craven thought he might be induced to increase his bid to fifteen +hundred, and added: "Miss Blake has half consented to the arrangement, +and Miss Elmsdale is eager for the matter to be pushed on, so that the +transfer may take place directly she comes of age. I confess, now an +actual offer has been made, I feel reluctant to sacrifice the property +for such a sum, and doubt whether it might not be better to offer it for +sale by auction—that is, if you think there is no chance of your +discovering the reason why River Hall bears so bad a name. Have you +obtained any clue to the mystery?" +</p> + +<p> +To this I replied in a note, which Munro himself conveyed to the office. +</p> + +<p> +"I have obtained an important clue; but that is all I can say for the +present. Will you tell Mr. Harringford I am at River Hall, and that you +think, being on the spot and knowing all about the place, I could +negotiate the matter better than anyone else in the office? If he is +desirous of purchasing, he will not object to calling some evening and +discussing the matter with me. I have an idea that a large sum of money +might be made out of this property by an enterprising man like Mr. +Harringford; and it is just possible, after hearing what I have to say, +he may find himself able to make a much better offer for the Uninhabited +House than that mentioned in your note. At all events, the interview can +do no harm. I am still suffering so much from cold that it would be +imprudent for me to wait upon Mr. Harringford, which would otherwise be +only courteous on my part." +</p> + +<p> +"Capital!" said Munro, reading over my shoulder. "That will bring my +gentleman to River Hall—. But what is wrong, Patterson? You are surely +not going to turn chickenhearted now?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," I answered; "but I wish it was over. I dread something, and I do +not know what it is. Though nothing shall induce me to waver, I am +afraid, Munro. I am not ashamed to say it: I am afraid, as I was the +first night I stayed in this house. I am not a coward, but I am afraid." +</p> + +<p> +He did not reply for a moment. He walked to the window and looked out +over the Thames; then he came back, and, wringing my hand, said, in +tones that tried unsuccessfully to be cheerful: +</p> + +<p> +"I know what it is, old fellow. Do you think I have not had the feeling +myself, since I came here? But remember, it has to be done, and I will +stand by you. I will see you through it." +</p> + +<p> +"It won't do for you to be in the room, though," I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"No; but I will stay within earshot," he answered. +</p> + +<p> +We did not talk much more about the matter. Men rarely do talk much +about anything which seems to them very serious, and I may candidly say +that I had never felt anything in my life to be much more serious than +that impending interview with Mr. Harringford. +</p> + +<p> +That he would come we never doubted for a moment, and we were right. As +soon as it was possible for him to appoint an interview, Mr. +Harringford did so. +</p> + +<p> +"Nine o'clock on to-morrow (Thursday) evening," was the hour he named, +apologizing at the same time for being unable to call at an earlier +period of the day. +</p> + +<p> +"Humph!" said Munro, turning the note over. "You will receive him in the +library, of course, Hal?" +</p> + +<p> +I replied such was my intention. +</p> + +<p> +"And that will be a move for which he is in no way prepared," commented +my friend. +</p> + +<p> +From the night when Munro walked and talked with Mr. Harringford, no +person came spying round and about the Uninhabited House. Of this fact +we were satisfied, for Brenda, who gave tongue at the slightest murmur +wafted over the river from the barges lying waiting for the tide, never +barked as though she were on the track of living being; whilst the +collie—a tawny-black, unkempt, ill-conditioned, savage-natured, but yet +most true and faithful brute, which Munro insisted on keeping within +doors, never raised his voice from the day he arrived at River Hall, +till the night Mr. Harringford rang the visitor's-bell, when the animal, +who had been sleeping with his nose resting on his paws, lifted his head +and indulged in a prolonged howl. +</p> + +<p> +Not a nice beginning to an interview which I dreaded. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap14"></a> +14. A TERRIBLE INTERVIEW +</h3> + +<p> +I was in the library, waiting to receive Mr. Harringford. A bright fire +blazed on the hearth, the table was strewn with papers Munro had brought +to me from the office, the gas was all ablaze, and the room looked +bright and cheerful—as bright and as cheerful as if no ghost had been +ever heard of in connection with it. +</p> + +<p> +At a few minutes past nine my visitor arrived. Mrs. Stott ushered him +into the library, and he entered the room evidently intending to shake +hands with me, which civility I affected not to notice. +</p> + +<p> +After the first words of greeting were exchanged, I asked if he would +have tea, or coffee, or wine; and finding he rejected all offers of +refreshment, I rang the bell and told Mrs. Stott I could dispense with +her attendance for the night. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean to tell me you stay in this house entirely alone?" asked +my visitor. +</p> + +<p> +"Until Mrs. Stott came I was quite alone," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"I would not have done it for any consideration," he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +"Possibly not," I replied. "People are differently constituted." +</p> + +<p> +It was not long before we got to business. His offer of twelve hundred +pounds I pooh-poohed as ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," he said—by this time I knew I had a keen man of business to +deal with—"put the place up to auction, and see whether you will +get as much." +</p> + +<p> +"There are two, or rather, three ways of dealing with the property, +which have occurred to me, Mr. Harringford," I explained. "One is +letting or selling this house for a reformatory, or school. Ghosts in +that case won't trouble the inmates, we may be quite certain; another is +utilizing the buildings for a manufactory; and the third is laying the +ground out for building purposes, thus—" +</p> + +<p> +As I spoke, I laid before him a plan for a tri-sided square of building, +the south side being formed by the river. I had taken great pains with +the drawing of this plan: the future houses, the future square, the +future river-walk with seats at intervals, were all to be found in the +roll which I unfolded and laid before him, and the effect my sketch +produced surprised me. +</p> + +<p> +"In Heaven's name, Mr. Patterson," he asked, "where did you get this? +You never drew it out of your own head!" +</p> + +<p> +I hastened to assure him I had certainly not got it out of any other +person's head; but he smiled incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +"Probably," he suggested, "Mr. Elmsdale left some such sketch behind +him—something, at all events, which suggested the idea to you." +</p> + +<p> +"If he did, I never saw nor heard of it," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"You may have forgotten the circumstance," he persisted; "but I feel +confident you must have seen something like this before. Perhaps amongst +the papers in Mr. Craven's office." +</p> + +<p> +"May I inquire why you have formed such an opinion?" I said, a +little stiffly. +</p> + +<p> +"Simply because this tri-sided square was a favourite project of the +late owner of River Hall," he replied. "After the death of his wife, +the place grew distasteful to him, and I have often heard him say he +would convert the ground into one of the handsomest squares in the +neighbourhood of London. All he wanted was a piece of additional +land lying to the west, which piece is, I believe, now to be had at +a price—" +</p> + +<p> +I sat like one stricken dumb. By no mental process, for which I could +ever account, had that idea been evolved. It sprang into life at a +bound. It came to me in my sleep, and I wakened at once with the whole +plan clear and distinct before my mind's eye, as it now lay clear and +distinct before Mr. Harringford. +</p> + +<p> +"It is very extraordinary," I managed at last to stammer out; "for I can +honestly say I never heard even a suggestion of Mr. Elmsdale's design; +indeed, I did not know he had ever thought of building upon the ground." +</p> + +<p> +"Such was the fact, however," replied my visitor. "He was a speculative +man in many ways. Yes, very speculative, and full of plans and projects. +However, Mr. Patterson," he proceeded, "all this only proves the truth +of the old remark, that 'great wits and little wits sometimes jump +together.'" +</p> + +<p> +There was a ring of sarcasm in his voice, as in his words, but I did not +give much heed to it. The design, then, was not mine. It had come to me +in sleep, it had been forced upon me, it had been explained to me in a +word, and as I asked myself, By whom? I was unable to repress a shudder. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not well, I fear," said Mr. Harringford; "this place seems to +have affected your health. Surely you have acted imprudently in risking +so much to gain so little." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not agree with you," I replied. "However, time will show whether I +have been right or wrong in coming here. I have learned many things of +which I was previously in ignorance, and I think I hold a clue in my +hands which, properly followed, may lead me to the hidden mystery of +River Hall." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed!" he exclaimed. "May I ask the nature of that clue?" +</p> + +<p> +"It would be premature for me to say more than this, that I am inclined +to doubt whether Mr. Elmsdale committed suicide." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think his death was the result of accident, then?" he inquired, +his face blanching to a ghastly whiteness. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I do not," I answered, bluntly. "But my thoughts can have little +interest for anyone, at present. What we want to talk about is the sale +and purchase of this place. The offer you made to Mr. Craven, I consider +ridiculous. Let on building lease, the land alone would bring in a +handsome income, and the house ought to sell for about as much as you +offer for the whole property." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps it might, if you could find a purchaser," he answered; "and the +land might return an income, if you could let it as you suggest; but, in +the meantime, while the grass grows, the steed starves; and while you +are waiting for your buyer and your speculative builder, Miss Blake and +Miss Elmsdale will have to walk barefoot, waiting for shoes you may +never be able to provide for them." +</p> + +<p> +There was truth in this, but only a half-truth, I felt, so I said: +</p> + +<p> +"When examined at the inquest, Mr. Harringford, you stated, I think, +that you were under considerable obligations to Mr. Elmsdale?" +</p> + +<p> +"Did I?" he remarked. "Possibly, he had given me a helping-hand +once or twice, and probably I mentioned the fact. It is a long time +ago, though." +</p> + +<p> +"Not so very long," I answered; "not long enough, I should imagine, to +enable you to forget any benefits you may have received from Mr. +Elmsdale." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Patterson," he interrupted, "are we talking business or sentiment? +If the former, please understand I have my own interests to attend to, +and that I mean to attend to them. If the latter, I am willing, if you +say Miss Elmsdale has pressing need for the money, to send her my cheque +for fifty or a hundred pounds. Charity is one thing, trade another, and +I do not care to mix them. I should never have attained to my present +position, had I allowed fine feelings to interfere with the driving of a +bargain. I don't want River Hall. I would not give that," and he snapped +his fingers, "to have the title-deeds in my hands to-morrow; but as Miss +Elmsdale wishes to sell, and as no one else will buy, I offer what I +consider a fair price for the place. If you think you can do better, +well and good. If—" +</p> + +<p> +He stopped suddenly in his sentence, then rising, he cried, "It is a +trick—a vile, infamous, disgraceful trick!" while his utterance grew +thick, and his face began to work like that of a person in convulsions. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" I asked, rising also, and turning to look in the +direction he indicated with outstretched arm and dilated eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Then I saw—no need for him to answer. Standing in the entrance to the +strong room was Robert Elmsdale himself, darkness for a background, the +light of the gas falling full upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, sternly, he came forward, step by step. With footfalls that +fell noiselessly, he advanced across the carpet, moving steadily +forward towards Mr. Harringford, who, beating the air with his hands, +screamed, "Keep him off! don't let him touch me!" and fell full length +on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Next instant, Munro was in the room. "Hullo, what is the matter?" he +asked. "What have you done to him—what has he been doing to you?" +</p> + +<p> +I could not answer. Looking in my face, I think Munro understood we had +both seen that which no man can behold unappalled. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Hal," he said, "bestir yourself. Whatever has happened, don't +sink under it like a woman. Help me to lift him. Merciful Heaven!" he +added, as he raised the prostrate figure. "He is dead!" +</p> + +<p> +To this hour, I do not know how we managed to carry him into the +drawing-room. I cannot imagine how our trembling hands bore that inert +body out of the library and across the hall. It seems like a dream to me +calling up Mrs. Stott, and then tearing away from the house in quest of +further medical help, haunted, every step I took, by the memory of that +awful presence, the mere sight of which had stricken down one of us in +the midst of his buying, and bargaining, and boasting. +</p> + +<p> +I had done it—I had raised that ghost—I had brought the man to his +death; and as I fled through the night, innocent as I had been of the +thought of such a catastrophe, I understood what Cain must have felt +when he went out to live his life with the brand of murderer upon him. +</p> + +<p> +But the man was not dead; though he lay for hours like one from whom +life had departed, he did not die then. We had all the genius, and +knowledge, and skill of London at his service. If doctors could have +saved him, he had lived. If nursing could have availed him, he had +recovered, for I never left him. +</p> + +<p> +When the end came I was almost worn out myself. +</p> + +<p> +And the end came very soon. +</p> + +<p> +"No more doctors," whispered the sick man; "they cannot cure me. Send +for a clergyman, and a lawyer, Mr. Craven as well as any other. It is +all over now; and better so; life is but a long fever. Perhaps he will +sleep now, and let me sleep too. Yes, I killed him. Why, I will tell +you. Give me some wine. +</p> + +<p> +"What I said at the inquest about owing my worldly prosperity to him was +true. I trace my pecuniary success to Mr. Elmsdale; but I trace also +hours, months, and years of anguish to his agency. My God! the nights +that man has made me spend when he was living, the nights I have spent +in consequence of his death—" +</p> + +<p> +He stopped; he had mentally gone back over a long journey. He was +retracing the road he had travelled, from youth to old age. For he was +old, if not in years, in sorrow. Lying on his death-bed, he understood +for what a game he had burnt his candle to the socket; comprehended how +the agony, and the suspense, and the suffering, and the long, long fever +of life, which with him never knew a remittent moment, had robbed him of +that which every man has a right to expect, some pleasure in the course +of his existence. +</p> + +<p> +"When I first met Elmsdale," he went on, "I was a young man, and an +ambitious one. I was a clerk in the City. I had been married a couple of +years to a wife I loved dearly. She was possessed of only a small dot; +and after furnishing our house, and paying for all the expenses incident +on the coming of a first child, we thought ourselves fortunate in +knowing there was still a deposit standing in our name at the +Joint-Stock Bank, for something over two hundred pounds. +</p> + +<p> +"Nevertheless, I was anxious. So far, we had lived within our income; +but with an annual advance of salary only amounting to ten pounds, or +thereabouts, I did not see how we were to manage when more children +came, particularly as the cost of living increased day by day. It was a +dear year that of which I am speaking. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not precisely remember on what occasion it was I first saw Mr. +Elmsdale; but I knew afterwards he picked me out as a person likely to +be useful to him. +</p> + +<p> +"He was on good terms with my employers, and asked them to allow me to +bid for some houses he wanted to purchase at a sale. +</p> + +<p> +"To this hour I do not know why he did not bid for them himself. He gave +me a five-pound note for my services; and that was the beginning of our +connection. Off and on, I did many things for him of one sort or +another, and made rather a nice addition to my salary out of doing them, +till the devil, or he, or both, put it into my head to start as builder +and speculator on my own account. +</p> + +<p> +"I had two hundred pounds and my furniture: that was the whole of my +capital; but Elmsdale found me money. I thought my fortune was made, the +day he advanced me my first five hundred pounds. If I had known—if I +had known—" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't talk any more," I entreated. "What can it avail to speak of such +matters now?" +</p> + +<p> +He turned towards me impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"Not talk," he repeated, "when I have for years been as one dumb, +and at length the string of my tongue is loosened! Not talk, when, +if I keep silence now, he will haunt me in eternity, as he has +haunted me in time!" +</p> + +<p> +I did not answer, I only moistened his parched lips, and bathed his +burning forehead as tenderly as my unaccustomed hands understood how to +perform such offices. +</p> + +<p> +"Lift me up a little, please," he said; and I put the pillows in +position as deftly as I could. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not a bad fellow," he remarked, "but I am not going to leave +you anything." +</p> + +<p> +"God forbid!" I exclaimed, involuntarily. +</p> + +<p> +"Are not you in want of money?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Not of yours," I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"Mine," he said; "it is not mine, it is his. He thought a great deal of +money, and he has come back for it. He can't rest, and he won't let me +rest till I have paid him principal and interest—compound interest. +Yes—well, I am able to do even that." +</p> + +<p> +We sat silent for a few minutes, then he spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +"When I first went into business with my borrowed capital, nothing I +touched really succeeded. I found myself going back—back. Far better +was my position as clerk; then at least I slept sound at nights, and +relished my meals. But I had tasted of so-called independence, and I +could not go back to be at the beck and call of an employer. Ah! no +employer ever made me work so hard as Mr. Elmsdale; no beck and call +were ever so imperative as his. +</p> + +<p> +"I pass over a long time of anxiety, struggle, and hardship. The world +thought me a prosperous man; probably no human being, save Mr. Elmsdale, +understood my real position, and he made my position almost unendurable. +</p> + +<p> +"How I came first to bet on races, would be a long story, longer than I +have time to tell; but my betting began upon a very small scale, and I +always won—always in the beginning. I won so certainly and so +continuously, that finally I began to hope for deliverance from Mr. +Elmsdale's clutches. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know how"—the narrative was not recited straight on as I am +writing it, but by starts, as strength served him—"Mr. Elmsdale +ascertained I was devoting myself to the turf: all I can say is, he did +ascertain the fact, and followed me down to Ascot to make sure there was +no mistake in his information. +</p> + +<p> +"At the previous Derby my luck had begun to turn. I had lost then—lost +heavily for me, and he taxed me with having done so. +</p> + +<p> +"In equity, and at law, he had then the power of foreclosing on every +house and rood of ground I owned. I was in his power—in the power of +Robert Elmsdale. Think of it—. But you never knew him. Young man, you +ought to kneel down and thank God you were never so placed as to be in +the power of such a devil— +</p> + +<p> +"If ever you should get into the power of a man like Robert Elmsdale, +don't offend him. It is bad enough to owe him money; but it is worse for +him to owe you a grudge. I had offended him. He was always worrying me +about his wife—lamenting her ill-health, extolling her beauty, +glorifying himself on having married a woman of birth and breeding; just +as if his were the only wife in the world, as if other men had not at +home women twice as good, if not as handsome as Miss Blake's sister. +</p> + +<p> +"Under Miss Blake's insolence I had writhed; and once, when my usual +prudence deserted me, I told Mr. Elmsdale I had been in Ireland and seen +the paternal Blake's ancestral cabin, and ascertained none of the family +had ever mixed amongst the upper thousand, or whatever the number may be +which goes to make up society in the Isle of Saints. +</p> + +<p> +"It was foolish, and it was wrong; but I could not help saying what I +did, and from that hour he was my enemy. Hitherto, he had merely been my +creditor. My own imprudent speech transformed him into a man lying in +wait to ruin me. +</p> + +<p> +"He bided his time. He was a man who could wait for years before he +struck, but who would never strike till he could make sure of inflicting +a mortal wound. He drew me into his power more and more, and then he +told me he did not intend to continue trusting anyone who betted—that +he must have his money. If he had not it by a certain date, which he +named, he would foreclose. +</p> + +<p> +"That meant he would beggar me, and I with an ailing wife and a +large family! +</p> + +<p> +"I appealed to him. I don't remember now what I said, but I do recollect +I might as well have talked to stone. +</p> + +<p> +"What I endured during the time which followed, I could not describe, +were I to talk for ever. Till a man in extremity tries to raise money, +he never understands the difficulty of doing so. I had been short of +money every hour since I first engaged in business, and yet I never +comprehended the meaning of a dead-lock till then. +</p> + +<p> +"One day, in the City, when I was almost mad with anxiety, I met +Mr. Elmsdale. +</p> + +<p> +"'Shall you be ready for me, Harringford?' he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"'I do not know—I hope so,' I answered. +</p> + +<p> +"'Well, remember, if you are not prepared with the money, I shall be +prepared to act,' he said, with an evil smile. +</p> + +<p> +"As I walked home that evening, an idea flashed into my mind. I had +tried all honest means of raising the money; I would try dishonest. My +credit was good. I had large transactions with first-rate houses. I was +in the habit of discounting largely, and I—well, I signed names to +paper that I ought not to have done. I had the bills put through. I had +four months and three days in which to turn round, and I might, by that +time, be able to raise sufficient to retire the acceptances. +</p> + +<p> +"In the meantime, I could face Mr. Elmsdale, and so I wrote, appointing +an evening when I would call with the money, and take his release for +all claims upon me. +</p> + +<p> +"When I arrived at River Hall he had all the necessary documents ready, +but refused to give them up in exchange for my cheque. +</p> + +<p> +"He could not trust me, he said, and he had, moreover, no banking +account. If I liked to bring the amount in notes, well and good; if not, +he would instruct his solicitors. +</p> + +<p> +"The next day I had important business to attend to, so a stormy +interview ended in my writing 'pay cash' on the cheque, and his +consenting to take it to my bankers himself. +</p> + +<p> +"My business on the following day, which happened to be out of town, +detained me much longer than I anticipated, and it was late before I +could reach River Hall. Late though it was, however, I determined to go +after my papers. I held Mr. Elmsdale's receipt for the cheque, +certainly; but I knew I had not an hour to lose in putting matters in +train for another loan, if I was to retire the forged acceptances. By +experience, I knew how the months slipped away when money had to be +provided at the end of them, and I was feverishly anxious to hold my +leases and title-deeds once more. +</p> + +<p> +"I arrived at the door leading to the library. Mr. Elmsdale opened it as +wide as the chain would permit, and asked who was there. I told him, +and, grumbling a little at the unconscionable hour at which I had +elected to pay my visit, he admitted me. +</p> + +<p> +"He was out of temper. He had hoped and expected, I knew, to find +payment of the cheque refused, and he could not submit with equanimity +to seeing me slip out of his hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Evidently, he did not expect me to come that night, for his table was +strewed with deeds and notes, which he had been reckoning up, no doubt, +as a miser counts his gold. +</p> + +<p> +"A pair of pistols lay beside his desk—close to my hand, as I took the +seat he indicated. +</p> + +<p> +"We talked long and bitterly. It does not matter now what he said or I +said. We fenced round and about a quarrel during the whole interview. I +was meek, because I wanted him to let me have part of the money at all +events on loan again; and he was blatant and insolent because he fancied +I cringed to him—and I did cringe. +</p> + +<p> +"I prayed for help that night from Man as I have never since prayed for +help from God. +</p> + +<p> +"You are still young, Mr. Patterson, and life, as yet, is new to you, or +else I would ask whether, in going into an entirely strange office, you +have not, if agitated in mind, picked up from the table a letter or +card, and kept twisting it about, utterly unconscious for the time being +of the social solecism you were committing. +</p> + +<p> +"In precisely the same spirit—God is my witness, as I am a dying man, +with no object to serve in speaking falsehoods—while we talked, I took +up one of the pistols and commenced handling it. +</p> + +<p> +"'Take care,' he said; 'that is loaded'; hearing which I laid it +down again. +</p> + +<p> +"For a time we went on talking; he trying to ascertain how I had +obtained the money, I striving to mislead him. +</p> + +<p> +"'Come, Mr. Elmsdale,' I remarked at last, 'you see I have been able to +raise the money; now be friendly, and consent to advance me a few +thousands, at a fair rate, on a property I am negotiating for. There is +no occasion, surely, for us to quarrel, after all the years we have done +business together. Say you will give me a helping-hand once more, and—' +</p> + +<p> +"Then he interrupted me, and swore, with a great oath, he would never +have another transaction with me. +</p> + +<p> +"'Though you have paid <i>me</i>,' he said, 'I know you are hopelessly +insolvent. I cannot tell where or how you have managed to raise that +money, but certain am I it has been by deceiving some one; and so sure +as I stand here I will know all about the transaction within a month.' +</p> + +<p> +"While we talked, he had been, at intervals, passing to and from his +strong room, putting away the notes and papers previously lying about on +the table; and, as he made this last observation, he was standing just +within the door, placing something on the shelf. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is of no use talking to me any more,' he went on. 'If you talked +from now to eternity you could not alter my decision. There are your +deeds; take them, and never let me see you in my house again.' +</p> + +<p> +"He came out of the darkness into the light at that moment, looking +burly, and insolent, and braggart, as was his wont. +</p> + +<p> +"Something in his face, in the tone of his voice, in the vulgar +assumption of his manner, maddened me. I do not know, I have never been +able to tell, what made me long at that moment to kill him—but I did +long. With an impulse I could not resist, I rose as he returned towards +the table, and snatching a pistol from the table—fired. +</p> + +<p> +"Before he could realize my intention, the bullet was in his brain. He +was dead, and I a murderer. +</p> + +<p> +"You can understand pretty well what followed. I ran into the passage +and opened the door; then, finding no one seemed to have heard the +report of the pistol, my senses came back to me. I was not sorry for +what I had done. All I cared for was to avert suspicion from myself, and +to secure some advantage from his death. +</p> + +<p> +"Stealing back into the room, I took all the money I could find, as well +as deeds and other securities. These last I destroyed next day, and in +doing so I felt a savage satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"He would have served them the same as me,' I thought. All the rest you +know pretty well. +</p> + +<p> +"From the hour I left him lying dead in the library every worldly plan +prospered with me. If I invested in land, it trebled in value. Did I +speculate in houses, they were sought after as investments. I grew rich, +respected, a man of standing. I had sold my soul to the devil, and he +paid me even higher wages than those for which I engaged—but there was +a balance. +</p> + +<p> +"One after another, wife and children died; and while my heart was +breaking by reason of my home left desolate, there came to me the first +rumour of this place being haunted. +</p> + +<p> +"I would not believe it—I did not—I fought against the truth as men +fight with despair. +</p> + +<p> +"I used to come here at night and wander as near to the house as I +safely could. The place dogged me, sleeping and waking. That library was +an ever-present memory. I have sat in my lonely rooms till I could +endure the horrors of imagination no longer, and been forced to come +from London that I might look at this terrible house, with the silent +river flowing sullenly past its desolate gardens. +</p> + +<p> +"Life seemed ebbing away from me. I saw that day by day the blood left +my cheeks. I looked at my hands, and beheld they were becoming like +those of some one very aged. My lameness grew perceptible to others as +well as to me, and I could distinguish, as I walked in the sunshine, the +shadow my figure threw was that of one deformed. I grew weak, and worn, +and tired, yet I never thoroughly lost heart till I knew you had come +here to unravel the secret. +</p> + +<p> +"'And it will be revealed to him,' I thought, 'if I do not kill him +too.' +</p> + +<p> +"You have been within an ace of death often and often since you set +yourself this task, but at the last instant my heart always failed me. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you are to live, and I to die. It was to be so, I suppose; but +you will never be nearer your last moment, till you lie a corpse, than +you have been twice, at any rate." +</p> + +<p> +Then I understood how accurately Munro had judged when he warned me to +be on my guard against this man—now harmless and dying, but so recently +desperate and all-powerful for evil; and as I recalled the nights I had +spent in that desolate house, I shivered. +</p> + +<p> +Even now, though the years have come and the years have gone since I +kept my lonely watch in River Hall, I start sometimes from sleep with a +great horror of darkness upon me, and a feeling that stealthily some one +is creeping through the silence to take my life! +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap15"></a> +15. CONCLUSION +</h3> + +<p> +I can remember the day and the hour as if it had all happened yesterday. +I can recall the view from the windows distinctly, as though time had +stood still ever since. There are no gardens under our windows in +Buckingham Street. Buckingham Gate stands the entrance to a desert of +mud, on which the young Arabs—shoeless, stockingless—are disporting +themselves. It is low water, and the river steamers keep towards the +middle arches of Waterloo. Up aloft the Hungerford Suspension rears +itself in mid air, and that spick-and-span new bridge, across which +trains run now ceaselessly, has not yet been projected. It is a bright +spring day. The sunshine falls upon the buildings on the Surrey side, +and lights them with a picturesque beauty to which they have not the +slightest title. A barge, laden with hay, is lying almost motionless in +the middle of the Thames. +</p> + +<p> +There is, even in London, a great promise and hope about that pleasant +spring day, but for me life has held no promise, and the future no hope, +since that night when the mystery of River Hall was solved in my +presence, and out of his own mouth the murderer uttered his +condemnation. +</p> + +<p> +How the weeks and the months had passed with me is soon told. Ill when I +left River Hall, shortly after my return home I fell sick unto death, +and lay like one who had already entered the Valley of the Shadow. +</p> + +<p> +I was too weak to move; I was too faint to think; and when at length I +was brought slowly back to the recollection of life and its cares, of +all I had experienced and suffered in the Uninhabited House, the time +spent in it seemed to me like the memory of some frightful dream. +</p> + +<p> +I had lost my health there, and my love too. Helena was now further +removed from me than ever. She was a great heiress. Mr. Harringford had +left her all his money absolutely, and already Miss Blake was +considering which of the suitors, who now came rushing to woo, it would +be best for her niece to wed. +</p> + +<p> +As for me, Taylor repeated, by way of a good joke, that her aunt +referred to me as a "decent sort of young man" who "seemed to be but +weakly," and, ignoring the fact of ever having stated "she would not +mind giving fifty pounds," remarked to Mr. Craven, that, if I was in +poor circumstances, he might pay me five or ten sovereigns, and charge +the amount to her account. +</p> + +<p> +Of all this Mr. Craven said nothing to me. He only came perpetually to +my sick-bed, and told my mother that whenever I was able to leave town I +must get away, drawing upon him for whatever sums I might require. I did +not need to encroach on his kindness, however, for my uncle, hearing of +my illness, sent me a cordial invitation to spend some time with him. +</p> + +<p> +In his cottage, far away from London, strength at last returned to me, +and by the autumn my old place in Mr. Craven's office was no longer +vacant. I sat in my accustomed corner, pursuing former avocations, a +changed man. +</p> + +<p> +I was hard-working as ever, but hope lightened my road no longer. +</p> + +<p> +To a penny I knew the amount of my lady's fortune, and understood Mr. +Harringford's bequest had set her as far above me as the stars are above +the earth. +</p> + +<p> +I had the conduct of most of Miss Elmsdale's business. As a compliment, +perhaps, Mr. Craven entrusted all the work connected with Mr. +Harringford's estate to me, and I accepted that trust as I should have +done any other which he might choose to place in my hands. +</p> + +<p> +But I could have dispensed with his well-meant kindness. Every visit I +paid to Miss Blake filled my soul with bitterness. Had I been a porter, +a crossing-sweeper, or a potman, she might, I suppose, have treated me +with some sort of courtesy; but, as matters stood, her every tone, word, +and look, said, plainly as possible, "If you do not know your station, I +will teach it to you." +</p> + +<p> +As for Helena, she was always the same—sweet, and kind, and grateful, +and gracious; but she had her friends about her: new lovers waiting for +her smiles. And, after a time, the shadow cast across her youth would, +I understood, be altogether removed, and leave her free to begin a new +and beautiful life, unalloyed by that hideous, haunting memory of +suicide, which had changed into melancholy the gay cheerfulness of her +lovely girlhood. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; it was the old story of the streamlet and the snow, of the rose and +the wind. To others my love might not have seemed hopeless, but to me it +was dead as the flowers I had seen blooming a year before. +</p> + +<p> +Not for any earthly consideration would I have made a claim upon her +affection. +</p> + +<p> +What I had done had been done freely and loyally. I gave it all to her +as utterly as I had previously given my heart, and now I could make no +bargain with my dear. I never for a moment thought she owed me anything +for my pains and trouble. Her kindly glances, her sweet words, her +little, thoughtful turns of manner, were free gifts of her goodness, but +in no sense payment for my services. +</p> + +<p> +She understood I could not presume upon them, and was, perhaps, better +satisfied it should be so. +</p> + +<p> +But nothing satisfied Miss Blake, and at length between her and Mr. +Craven there ensued a serious disagreement. She insisted he should not +"send that clerk of his" to the house again, and suggested if Mr. Craven +were too high and mighty to attend to the concerns of Miss Elmsdale +himself, Miss Blake must look out for another solicitor. +</p> + +<p> +"The sooner the better, madam," said Mr. Craven, with great state; and +Miss Blake left in a huff, and actually did go off to a rival attorney, +who, however, firmly declined to undertake her business. +</p> + +<p> +Then Helena came as peacemaker. She smoothed down Mr. Craven's +ruffled feathers and talked him into a good temper, and effected +a reconciliation with her aunt, and then nearly spoilt everything +by adding: +</p> + +<p> +"But indeed I think Mr. Patterson had better not come to see us for the +present, at all events." +</p> + +<p> +"You ungrateful girl!" exclaimed Mr. Craven; but she answered, with a +little sob, that she was not ungrateful, only—only she thought it would +be better if I stayed away. +</p> + +<p> +And so Taylor took my duties on him, and, as a natural consequence, some +very pretty disputes between him and Miss Blake had to be arranged by +Mr. Craven. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the winter passed, and it was spring again—that spring day of +which I have spoken. Mr. Craven and I were alone in the office. He had +come late into town and was reading his letters; whilst I, seated by a +window overlooking the Thames, gave about equal attention to the river +outside and a tedious document lying on my table. +</p> + +<p> +We had not spoken a word, I think, for ten minutes, when a slip of paper +was brought in, on which was written a name. +</p> + +<p> +"Ask her to walk in," said Mr. Craven, and, going to the door, he +greeted the visitor, and led Miss Elmsdale into the room. +</p> + +<p> +I rose, irresolute; but she came forward, and, with a charming +blush, held out her hand, and asked me some commonplace question +about my health. +</p> + +<p> +Then I was going, but she entreated me not to leave the room on +her account. +</p> + +<p> +"This is my birthday, Mr. Craven," she went on, "and I have come to ask +you to wish me many happy returns of the day, and to do something for +me—will you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you every happiness, my dear," he answered, with a tenderness +born, perhaps, of olden memories and of loving-kindness towards one so +sweet, and beautiful, and lonely. "And if there is anything I can do for +you on your birthday, why, it is done, that is all I can say." +</p> + +<p> +She clasped her dear hands round his arm, and led him towards a further +window. I could see her downcast eyes—the long lashes lying on her +cheeks, the soft colour flitting and coming, making her alternately pale +and rosy, and I was jealous. Heaven forgive me! If she had hung so +trustfully about one of the patriarchs, I should have been jealous, +though he reckoned his years by centuries. +</p> + +<p> +What she had to say was said quickly. She spoke in a whisper, bringing +her lips close to his ear, and lifting her eyes imploringly to his when +she had finished. +</p> + +<p> +"Upon my word, miss," he exclaimed, aloud, and he held her from him and +looked at her till the colour rushed in beautiful blushes even to her +temples, and her lashes were wet with tears, and her cheeks dimpled with +smiles. "Upon my word—and you make such a request to me—to me, who +have a character to maintain, and who have daughters of my own to whom I +am bound to set a good example! Patterson, come here. Can you imagine +what this young lady wants me to do for her now? She is twenty-one +to-day, she tells me, and she wants me to ask you to marry her. She says +she will never marry anyone else." Then, as I hung back a little, dazed, +fearful, and unable to credit the evidence of my senses, he added: +</p> + +<p> +"Take her; she means it every word, and you deserve to have her. If she +had chosen anybody else I would never have drawn out her settlements." +</p> + +<p> +But I would not take her, not then. Standing there with the spring +landscape blurred for the moment before me, I tried to tell them both +what I felt. At first, my words were low and broken, for the change from +misery to happiness affected me almost as though I had been suddenly +plunged from happiness into despair. But by degrees I recovered my +senses, and told my darling and Mr. Craven it was not fit she should, +out of very generosity, give herself to me—a man utterly destitute of +fortune—a man who, though he loved her better than life, was only a +clerk at a clerk's salary. +</p> + +<p> +"If I were a duke," I went on, breaking ground at last, "with a duke's +revenue and a duke's rank, I should only value what I had for her sake. +I would carry my money, and my birth, and my position to her, and ask +her to take all, if she would only take me with them; but, as matters +stand, Mr. Craven—" +</p> + +<p> +"I owe everything worth having in life to you," she said, impetuously, +taking my hand in hers. "I should not like you at all if you were a +duke, and had a ducal revenue." +</p> + +<p> +"I think you are too strait-laced, Patterson," agreed Mr. Craven. "She +does owe everything she has to your determination, remember." +</p> + +<p> +"But I undertook to solve the mystery for fifty pounds," I remarked, +smiling in spite of myself. +</p> + +<p> +"Which has never been paid," remarked my employer. "But," he went on, +"you young people come here and sit down, and let us talk the affair +over all together." And so he put us in chairs as if we had been +clients, while he took his professional seat, and, after a pause, began: +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Helena, I think the young man has reason. A woman should marry +her equal. He will, in a worldly sense, be more than your equal some +day; but that is nothing. A man should be head of the household. +</p> + +<p> +"It is good, and nice, and loving of you, my child, to wish to endow +your husband with all your worldly goods; but your husband ought, before +he takes you, to have goods of his own wherewith to endow you. Now, now, +now, don't purse up your pretty mouth, and try to controvert a lawyer's +wisdom. You are both young: you have plenty of time before you. +</p> + +<p> +"He ought to be given an opportunity of showing what he can do, and +you ought to mix in society and see whether you meet anyone you +think you can like better. There is no worse time for finding out a +mistake of that sort, than after marriage." And so the kind soul +prosed on, and would, possibly, have gone on prosing for a few hours +more, had I not interrupted one of his sentences by saying I would +not have Miss Elmsdale bound by any engagement, or consider herself +other than free as air. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," he answered, testily, "we understand that thoroughly. But +I suppose you do not intend to cast the young lady's affections from you +as if they were of no value?" +</p> + +<p> +At this juncture her eyes and mine met. She smiled, and I could not help +smiling too. +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose we leave it in this way," Mr. Craven said, addressing +apparently some independent stranger. "If, at the end of a year, Miss +Elmsdale is of the same mind, let her write to me and say so. That +course will leave her free enough, and it will give us twelve months in +which to turn round, and see what we can do in the way of making his +fortune. I do not imagine he will ever be able to count down guineas +against her guineas, or that he wants to do anything so absurd. But he +is right in saying an heiress should not marry a struggling clerk. He +ought to be earning a good income before he is much older, and he shall, +or my name is not William Craven." +</p> + +<p> +I got up and shook his hand, and Helena kissed him. +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, tut! fie, fie! what's all this?" he exclaimed, searching +sedulously for his double eyeglass—which all the while he held between +his finger and thumb. "Now, young people, you must not occupy my time +any longer. Harry, see this self-willed little lady into a cab; and you +need not return until the afternoon. If you are in time to find me +before I leave, that will do quite well. Good-bye, Miss Helena." +</p> + +<p> +I did not take his hint, though. Failing to find a cab—perhaps for want +of looking for one—I ventured to walk with my beautiful companion up +Regent Street as far as Oxford Circus. +</p> + +<p> +Through what enchanted ground we passed in that short distance, how +can I ever hope to tell! It was all like a story of fairyland, with +Helena for Queen of Unreality. But it was real enough. Ah! my dear, +you knew your own mind, as I, after years and years of wedded +happiness, can testify. +</p> + +<p> +Next day, Mr. Craven started off to the west of England. He did not tell +me where he was going; indeed, I never knew he had been to see my uncle +until long afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +What he told that gentleman, what he said of me and Helena, of my poor +talents and her beauty, may be gathered from the fact that the old +admiral agreed first to buy me a partnership in some established firm, +and then swore a mighty oath, that if the heiress was, at the end of +twelve months, willing to marry his nephew, he would make him his heir. +</p> + +<p> +"I should like to have you with me, Patterson," said Mr. Craven, when we +were discussing my uncle's proposal, which a few weeks after took me +greatly by surprise; "but, if you remain here, Miss Blake will always +regard you as a clerk. I know of a good opening; trust me to arrange +everything satisfactorily for you." +</p> + +<p> +Whether Miss Blake, even with my altered fortunes, would ever have +become reconciled to the match, is extremely doubtful, had the <i>beau +monde</i> not turned a very decided cold-shoulder to the Irish patriot. +</p> + +<p> +Helena, of course, everyone wanted, but Miss Blake no one wanted; and +the fact was made very patent to that lady. +</p> + +<p> +"They'll be for parting you and me, my dear," said the poor creature one +day, when society had proved more than usually cruel. "If ever I am let +see you after your marriage, I suppose I shall have to creep in at the +area-door, and make believe I am some faithful old nurse wanting to have +a look at my dear child's sweet face." +</p> + +<p> +"No one shall ever separate me from you, dear, silly aunt," said my +charmer, kissing first one of her relative's high cheek-bones, and then +the other. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll have to jog on, two old spinsters together, then, I am thinking," +replied Miss Blake. +</p> + +<p> +"No," was the answer, very distinctly spoken. "I am going to marry Mr. +Henry Patterson, and he will not ask me to part from my ridiculous, +foolish aunt." +</p> + +<p> +"Patterson! that conceited clerk of William Craven's? Why, he has not +darkened our doors for fifteen months and more." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite true," agreed her niece; "but, nevertheless, I am going to marry +him. I asked him to marry me a year ago." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't mane that, Helena!" said poor Miss Blake. "You should not +talk like an infant in arms." +</p> + +<p> +"We are only waiting for your consent," went on my lady fair. +</p> + +<p> +"Then that you will never have. While I retain my powers of speech +you shall not marry a pauper who has only asked you for the sake of +your money." +</p> + +<p> +"He did not ask me; I asked him," said Helena, mischievously; "and he is +not a beggar. His uncle has bought him a partnership, and is going to +leave him his money; and he will be here himself to-morrow, to tell you +all about his prospects." +</p> + +<p> +At first, Miss Blake refused to see me; but after a time she relented, +and, thankful, perhaps, to have once again anyone over whom she could +tyrannise, treated her niece's future husband—as Helena declared—most +shamefully. +</p> + +<p> +"But you two must learn to agree, for there shall be no quarrelling in +our house," added the pretty autocrat. +</p> + +<p> +"You needn't trouble yourself about that, Helena," said her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"He'll be just like all the rest. If he's civil to me before marriage, +he won't be after. He will soon find out there is no place in the house, +or, for that matter, in the world, for Susan Blake"; and my enemy, for +the first time in my memory, fairly broke down and began to whimper. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Blake," I said, "how can I convince you that I never dreamt, never +could dream of asking you and Helena to separate?" +</p> + +<p> +"See that, now, and he calls you Helena already," said the lady, +reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, he must begin sometime. And that reminds me the sooner he begins +to call you aunt, the better." +</p> + +<p> +I did not begin to do so then, of that the reader may be quite certain; +but there came a day when the word fell quite naturally from my lips. +</p> + +<p> +For a long period ours was a hollow truce, but, as time passed on, and I +resolutely refused to quarrel with Miss Blake, she gradually ceased +trying to pick quarrels with me. +</p> + +<p> +Our home is very dear to her. All the household management Helena from +the first hour took into her own hands; but in the nursery Miss Blake +reigns supreme. +</p> + +<p> +She has always a grievance, but she is thoroughly happy. She dresses now +like other people, and wears over her gray hair caps of Helena's +selection. +</p> + +<p> +Time has softened some of her prejudices, and age renders her +eccentricities less noticeable; but she is still, after her fashion, +unique, and we feel in our home, as we used to feel in the office—that +we could better spare a better man. +</p> + +<p> +The old house was pulled down, and not a square, but a fine terrace +occupied its site. Munro lives in one of those desirable tenements, and +is growing rich and famous day by day. Mr. Craven has retired from +practice, and taken a place in the country, where he is bored to death +though he professes himself charmed with the quiet. +</p> + +<p> +Helena and I have always been town-dwellers. Though the Uninhabited +House is never mentioned by either of us, she knows I have still a +shuddering horror of lonely places. +</p> + +<p> +My experiences in the Uninhabited House have made me somewhat nervous. +Why, it was only the other night— +</p> + +<p> +"What are you doing, making all that spluttering on your paper?" says an +interrupting voice at this juncture, and, looking up, I see Miss Blake +seated by the window, clothed and in her right mind. +</p> + +<p> +"You had better put by that writing," she proceeds, with the manner of +one having authority, and I am so amazed, when I contrast Miss Blake as +she is, with what she was, that I at once obey! +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Uninhabited House, by Mrs. J. H. 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