How his companion so quickly overcame her terror, Shorthouse never
properly understood; but his admiration for her self-control increased
tenfold, and at the same time served to feed his own dying flame—for
which he was undeniably grateful. Equally inexplicable to him was the
evidence of physical force they had just witnessed. He at once
suppressed the memory of stories he had heard of “physical mediums”
and their dangerous phenomena; for if these were true, and either his
aunt or himself was unwittingly a physical medium, it meant that they
were simply aiding to focus the forces of a haunted house already
charged to the brim. It was like walking with unprotected lamps among
uncovered stores of gunpowder.
So, with as little reflection as possible, he simply relit the
candle and went tip to the next floor. The arm in his trembled, it is
true, and his own tread was often uncertain, but they went on with
thoroughness, and after a search revealing nothing they climbed the
last flight of stairs to the top floor of all.
Here they found a perfect nest of small servants’ rooms, with
broken pieces of furniture, dirty cane-bottomed chairs, chests of
drawers, cracked mirrors, and decrepit bedsteads. The rooms had low
sloping ceilings already hung here and there with cobwebs, small
windows, and badly plastered walls—a depressing and dismal region
which they were glad to leave behind.
It was on the stroke of midnight when they entered a small room on
the third floor, close to the top of the stairs, and arranged to make
themselves comfortable for the remainder of their adventure. It was
absolutely bare, and was said to be the room—then used as a clothes
closet— into which the infuriated groom had chased his victim and
finally caught her. Outside, across the narrow landing, began the
stairs leading up to the floor above, and the servants’ quarters where
they had just searched.
In spite of the chilliness of the night there was something in the
air of this room that cried for an open window. But there was more
than this. Shorthouse could only describe it by saying that he felt
less master of himself here than in any other part of the house. There
was something that acted directly on the nerves, tiring the
resolution, enfeebling the will. He was conscious of this result
before he had been in the room five minutes, and it was in the short
time they stayed there that he suffered the wholesale depletion of his
vital forces, which was, for himself, the chief horror of the whole
experience.
They put the candle on the floor of the cupboard, leaving the door
a few inches ajar, so that there was no glare to confuse the eyes, and
no shadow to shift about on walls and ceiling. Then they spread the
cloak on the floor and sat down to wait, with their backs against the
wall.
Shorthouse was within two feet of the door on to the landing; his
position commanded a good view of the main staircase leading down into
the darkness, and also of the beginning of the servants’ stairs going
to the floor above; the heavy stick lay beside him within easy reach.
The moon was now high above the house. Through the open window they
could see the comforting stars like friendly eyes watching in the sky.
One by one the clocks of the town struck midnight, and when the sounds
died away the deep silence of a windless night fell again over
everything. Only the boom of the sea, far away and lugubrious, filled
the air with hollow murmurs.
Inside the house the silence became awful; awful, he thought,
because any minute now it might be broken by sounds portending terror.
The strain of waiting told more and more severely on the nerves; they
talked in whispers when they talked at all, for their voices sounded
queer and unnatural. A chilliness, not altogether due to the night
air, invaded the room, and made them cold. The influences against
them, whatever these might be, were slowly robbing them of
self-confidence, and the power of decisive action; their forces were
on the wane, and the possibility of real fear took on a new and
terrible meaning. He began to tremble for the elderly woman by his
side, whose pluck could hardly save her beyond a certain extent.
He heard the blood singing in his veins. It sometimes seemed so
loud that he fancied it prevented his hearing properly certain other
sounds that were beginning very faintly to make themselves audible in
the depths of the house. Every time he fastened his attention on these
sounds, they instantly ceased.
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