Footsteps in the Dark (10 page)

The library door was ajar; she pushed it open, and went in. The biscuit-tin, she remembered, stood on a small table by the door, and she peered for it, blinking. Yes, there it was. She set the candle down and opened it, and slipped two of the biscuits into the pocket of her dressing-gown. She had quite recovered from her rather shame-faced feeling of trepidation, for no skulls had bounced at her feet, or anything else of such a disturbing nature. She picked up the candle again, and turned to the bookshelves that ran along the wall opposite the fireplace. It was very hard to see far by the light of one candle, and she knocked her shin on a chair as she moved across the room.

The difficulty was to find anything one wanted to read. She held the candle close up to the row of books, and slowly edged along in front of the shelves, surveying a most unpromising selection of titles. "Meditations on Mortality," read Mrs. Bosanquet. "Dear me, how gloomy. The Sermons of Dr Brimley. That might send me to sleep, but I really don't think… Tyndall on Light… Ah, this is better!" She came opposite a collection of novels, and reached up a hand to pull one down from the shelf. Then, just as her fingers had half-pulled the volume from its place an unaccountable feeling of dread seized her, and she stayed quite still, straining her ears to catch the least sound. All she could hear was the beating of her own heart, but it did not reassure her. Mrs. Bosanquet, who did not believe in nerves, knew that something was in the room with her.

"It's nonsense," she told herself. "Of course there isn't. Of course there isn't!" She forced herself to draw the book out from its place, but her unreasoning conviction grew. It seemed as though she dared not move or look round, but she knew that was absurd. "I've got to turn round," she thought. "It's all nonsense. There's nothing here. I can't stand like this all night. I must turn round."

Fearfully she began to edge towards the door. She found that it had become almost impossible to breathe, and realised that her terror was growing.

"It's always worse if one turns one's back on things," Mrs. Bosanquet thought. "Suppose it crept up behind me? Suppose I felt a hand touching me?"

The leap of her heart was choking her; she felt as though she might faint if she went on like this. She stopped, and very cautiously peered over her shoulder. There was nothing. Yet what was that vague, dark figure by the fireplace? Only the tall-backed arm-chair, of course. She was so sure of it that she took a step towards it, and lifted her candle to see more clearly.

The dark shape grew distinct in the tiny light. A cowled figure was standing motionless by the fireplace, and through the slits in the cowl two glittering eyes were fixed upon Mrs. Bosanquet. She stood as though paralysed, and even as she stared at it the figure moved, and glided towards her with one menacing hand stretched out like the talon of a bird of prey.

The spell broke. For the first time in her life Mrs. Bosanquet gave a wild, shrill scream, and crumpled up in a dead faint on the floor.

Chapter Six

Mrs. Bosanquet groped her way back to consciousness to find the room full of lamplight, and the rest of the family gathered solicitously about her. Someone had laid her upon the sofa, someone else was bathing her forehead with water, while a third held a bottle of smelling-salts to her nose. She opened her eyes, and looked up, blankly at first, into Celia's concerned face. She heard a voice saying: "It's all right: she's coming round," and by degrees her recollection came back to her. She opened her eyes again, and struggled up into a sitting posture, unceremoniously thrusting aside the smelling bottle and the brandy that Margaret was trying to give her. "Where is it?" she demanded, looking round her suspiciously.

"Where is what, Aunt Lilian?" Celia said soothingly. "Are you feeling better now?"

"I am perfectly well. No, my dear child, I never touch spirits. Where did it go? Did you see it?"

Celia patted her hand. "No, dear, we didn't see anything. I woke up, hearing you scream, and when we got downstairs we found you had fainted. Did you feel ill in the night, Aunt, or what?"

"I came to get a book and a biscuit," Mrs. Bosanquet replied. "Was there no one but myself in the room?"

"Why no, darling, how should there be? Did you think you saw someone?"

"Think!" said Mrs. Bosanquet indignantly. "Do you suppose I should scream for help merely because I thought I saw someone? I did see it, as plainly as I can see you."

Charles came forward, ousting his wife from her place by the invalid's side. "What did you see, Aunt Lilian?" he asked. "Do you feel well enough to tell us about it?"

"Certainly I am well enough to tell you," she said. "My dears, it is all perfectly true, and I am not ashamed to own that I have been wrong. The house is haunted, and the first thing to be done in the morning is to summon the Vicar."

Celia gave a gasp of horror, and clasped her brother's arm nervously. "Oh, what have you seen?" she cried.

Mrs. Bosanquet took the glass of water from Margaret, and drank some. "I have seen the Monk!" she said dramatically.

"Good Lord!" Peter exclaimed. "You haven't really, have you? Are you sure you didn't imagine it?"

A withering glance was cast at him. "It is true that I so far forgot myself as to scream, and faint, but I can assure you, my dear Peter, that I am not such a fool that I would imagine such a thing. It was standing almost exactly where you are now, and it began to move towards me, with its arm stretched out as though it were pointing at me."

Celia shuddered, and looked round fearfully. Just what did it look like?" Charles asked quietly.

"Like a monk," said Mrs. Bosanquet. "It had a cowl over its face, and I trust I am not a fanciful woman, but there was something indescribably menacing and horrible about it. I can see its eyes now."

"Where?" shrieked Celia, clutching Peter again.

"In my mind's eye. Don't be foolish, my dear, it is not here now. Its robe was black, and so were its hands - at least the one that pointed at me was. I daresay I am stupid, but that seemed to me to make it even more unnerving."

Charles turned quickly towards Peter. "That settles it! Gloves! Now how did he make his get-away?"

"Almost any way," Peter said. "He'd have had plenty of time to get across the hall before any of us reached the stairs."

"It is no use being obstinate about it," Mrs. Bosanquet said. "It was no man,, but an apparition. I am now convinced of the existence of such things. Perhaps it was sent to open my eyes."

"All dressed up in a Dominican habit and black gloves," said Charles. "I hardly think so. Take a look at the front door, Peter."

"Bolted, and the chain in position. I happened to notice. What about this window?"

Charles strode across to it, and flung back the curtains. "It's bolted - no, by Jove, it's not!" He turned to Bowers, who up till now had been a scared auditor. "Bowers, do you remember if you bolted this to-night?"

Bowers shook his head. "No, sir. At least, I don't think so. Begging your pardon, sir, but the mistress always likes it left open till you go up to bed. I thought you bolted it."

"That's right," Peter said. "And to-night we sat in the drawing-room. That's how it got forgotten. Cheer up, Aunt Lilian! What you saw was someone dressed up to give you a fright, and that's how he got in."

"No, my dear, you are wrong," Mrs. Bosanquet said firmly. "It had no need of doors or windows. For all we know it is still present, though now invisible."

Celia gave one moan of horror, and implored Charles to take her back to town at once.

"I think we'd all better go back to bed for the rest of the night, and discuss it in the morning," Charles said. "I don't see that we shall do much good trying to search the garden now. We'll bolt this window, though. And what about having Margaret to sleep in your room, Aunt? Would you prefer it?"

"Not at all," she replied. "If it re-appeared, Margaret would be of no assistance to me, or any of you. I shall go quietly up, and to sleep, for I feel I shall not see it again to-night."

On account of the night's disturbance breakfast was put back next morning for an hour, but contrary to everyone's expectations Mrs. Bosanquet was the first down. When Celia, Margaret, and Peter appeared they found her looking as placid as ever, and reading the morning paper. "Good morning, my dears," she said, laying the paper down. "I see there has been fresh trouble in China. I feel one has so much to be thankful for in not being Chinese."

"Darling Aunt Lilian!" said Margaret, twinkling. "You really are a marvellous person!"

"On the contrary I fear I am a very ordinary one. And why you should think so merely because I remarked…'

"Oh, I didn't! But after what you went through last night I wonder you can be so calm."

"I lay awake and thought about that for some time after you had left me," said Mrs. Bosanquet. "Do you know, I have come to the conclusion that I behaved very foolishly?"

Celia looked up hopefully. "Do you mean you may have imagined it after all?"

"No, my dear, certainly not. I am not at all imaginative. In fact, your uncle used very often to say I was too mundane. But then he was extremely imaginative himself, and could tell the most entertaining stories, as I daresay you remember."

"Then how did you behave foolishly?" asked Peter, helping himself from one of the dishes on the sideboard.

"In screaming in that uncontrolled manner. I realise now that my proper course would have been to have challenged the apparition, and commanded it to tell me what it wanted. For, on thinking it over, I am convinced it manifested itself for some good purpose. Thank you, Peter, yes, I will have an egg." She began to tap the shell briskly. "It is obviously an unquiet spirit, and when you consider that it no doubt belongs to the remains you discovered in that very nasty, airless little cupboard, one can hardly wonder at it."

"I do wish you wouldn't, Aunt!" begged Celia. "Even in broad daylight you give me the creeps."

"Then you are being very silly, dear child. Good morning, Charles. I hope you slept well to make up for your loss of sleep earlier in the night."

Charles took his seat at the head of the table. "I am grateful for the inquiry, Aunt, but no, I didn't. I might have, but for the fact that I was constrained to get up three times; once to look under the bed, once to open the wardrobe, once to demonstrate to your niece that the noise she persistently heard was the wind rustling the creeper outside the window."

"Well, I'm sorry, darling," Celia said, "but after what happened you can't be surprised that I was nervous."

"Surprise, my love," responded her husband, "was not the emotion I found myself a prey to."

"Perhaps it'll convince you that the only thing to do is to go back to town this very day," Celia said pleadingly.

"I confess that a prospect of any more such nights doesn't attract me," said Charles. "But what's the opinion of Aunt Lilian?"

"I was about to say, when you came in," answered Mrs. Bosanquet, "that I have considered the matter very carefully, and come to the conclusion that we should be doing wrong to leave the Priory."

Charles paused in the act of conveying a piece of toast from his plate to his mouth, and stared at her. "Well, I'm damned!" he said inelegantly. "Give me some coffee, Celia: I must drink Aunt Lilian's health."

"Very wrong indeed," nodded Mrs. Bosanquet. "Perhaps we have it in our power to set the ghost free. It probably wants us to do something, and to that end it has been endeavouring to attract our notice."

"I see," said Charles gravely. "And probably it can't make out why we all seem so shy of it. I wonder how it'll try to - er - attract our notice next? It's already knocked a picture down, and thrown a skull at our feet, and made you faint. It must be getting quite disheartened at our failure to appreciate the true meaning of these little attentions."

"It is all very well for you to make a mock of such things, Charles," Mrs. Bosanquet said with dignity, "but I am perfectly serious. So much so that I am determined to do my best to get into communication with it. And since Margaret is going to town on Thursday to see her dentist I shall ask her to call at my flat, and request Parker to give her my planchette board, which is in the old brown trunk in the lobby."

Celia was regarding her in fascinated horror. "Are you really proposing to sit with a planchette in this house?" she asked faintly.

"Not only I, my dear, but all of us. We sit round in a circle, laying the tips of our fingers on the board, and wait for some message to be transcribed."

"Nothing," said Celia vehemently, "would induce me to take part in any such proceeding! The whole thing's bad enough as it is without us trying to invoke the Monk."

"Very well," said Mrs. Bosanquet, not in the least ruffled, "if that is how you feel about it it would be no good your attempting to sit with us. But I for one shall certainly make the attempt."

"This means you won't go back to town!" Celia said unhappily. "I knew what it would be! No, don't tell me I can go without you, Charles. I may be a bad wife, and wake you up to look in the wardrobe in the small hours, but I am not such a bad wife that I'd go away and leave you with a ghost and a planchette."

"I wish you would go back to town, old lady," Charles said. "I don't mean that I don't appreciate this selfimmolating heroism, but it's no use scaring yourself, and nothing dire is at all likely to happen to me. If I thought there was any danger," he added handsomely, "you should stay and share it with me."

"Thanks," said Celia. "I might have known you'd joke about it. I don't know whether there's what you call danger, but if you're going to ask for trouble by putting your hands on Aunt's horrible planchette I shan't leave your side for one moment."

"Cheer up!" Charles said. "I don't mind giving the board a shove to please Aunt Lilian, but last night has completely convinced me that the Monk is as real as you are. In fact, if Margaret is going to town on Thursday she can rout out my service revolver, and the cartridges she'll find with it, and bring them back with her."

"If you think that I should be pleased by you deliberately pushing the board, you are sadly mistaken," said Mrs. Bosanquet severely. "Moreover, I have the greatest objection to fire-arms, and if you propose to let off guns at all hours of the day I shall be obliged to go back to London."