VIII
- AFTER THE ATTACK
It
was now about three a.m., and, presently, the Eastern sky began to pale with
the coming of dawn. Gradually, the day came, and, by its light, I scanned the
gardens, earnestly; but nowhere could I see any signs of the brutes. I leant
over, and glanced down to the foot of the wall, to see whether the body of the
Thing I had shot the night before was still there. It was gone. I supposed that
others of the monsters had removed it during the night.
Then,
I went down on to the roof, and crossed over to the gap from which the coping
stone had fallen. Reaching it, I looked over. Yes, there was the stone, as I
had seen it last; but there was no appearance of anything beneath it; nor could
I see the creatures I had killed, after its fall. Evidently, they also had been
taken away. I turned, and went down to my study. There, I sat down, wearily. I
was thoroughly tired. It was quite light now; though the sun's rays were not,
as yet, perceptibly hot. A clock chimed the hour of four.
I
awoke, with a start, and looked 'round, hurriedly. The clock in the corner,
indicated that it was three o'clock. It was already afternoon. I must have
slept for nearly eleven hours.
With
a jerky movement, I sat forward in the chair, and listened. The house was
perfectly silent. Slowly, I stood up, and yawned. I felt desperately tired,
still, and sat down again; wondering what it was that had waked me.
It
must have been the clock striking, I concluded, presently; and was commencing
to doze off, when a sudden noise brought me back, once more, to life. It was
the sound of a step, as of a person moving cautiously down the corridor, toward
my study. In an instant, I was on my feet, and grasping my rifle. Noiselessly,
I waited. Had the creatures broken in, whilst I slept? Even as I questioned,
the steps reached my door, halted momentarily, and then continued down the
passage. Silently, I tiptoed to the doorway, and peeped out. Then, I
experienced such a feeling of relief, as must a reprieved criminal - it was my
sister. She was going toward the stairs.
I
stepped into the hall, and was about to call to her, when it occurred to me,
that it was very queer she should have crept past my door, in that stealthy
manner. I was puzzled, and, for one brief moment, the thought occupied my mind,
that it was not she, but some fresh mystery of the house. Then, as I caught a
glimpse of her old petticoat, the thought passed as quickly as it had come, and
I half laughed. There could be no mistaking that ancient garment. Yet, I
wondered what she was doing; and, remembering her condition of mind, on the
previous day, I felt that it might be best to follow, quietly - taking care not
to alarm her - and see what she was going to do. If she behaved rationally,
well and good; if not, I should have to take steps to restrain her. I could run
no unnecessary risks, under the danger that threatened us.
Quickly,
I reached the head of the stairs, and paused a moment. Then, I heard a sound
that sent me leaping down, at a mad rate - it was the rattle of bolts being unshot.
That foolish sister of mine was actually unbarring the back door.
Just
as her hand was on the last bolt, I reached her. She had not seen me, and, the
first thing she knew, I had hold of her arm. She glanced up quickly, like a
frightened animal, and screamed aloud.
'Come,
Mary!' I said, sternly, 'what's the meaning of this nonsense? Do you mean to
tell me you don't understand the danger, that you try to throw our two lives
away in this fashion!'
To
this, she replied nothing; only trembled, violently, gasping and sobbing, as
though in the last extremity of fear.
Through
some minutes, I reasoned with her; pointing out the need for caution, and
asking her to be brave. There was little to be afraid of now, I explained - and,
I tried to believe that I spoke the truth - but she must be sensible, and not
attempt to leave the house for a few days.
At
last, I ceased, in despair. It was no use talking to her; she was, obviously,
not quite herself for the time being. Finally, I told her she had better go to
her room, if she could not behave rationally.
Still,
she took not any notice. So, without more ado, I picked her up in my arms, and
carried her there. At first, she screamed, wildly; but had relapsed into silent
trembling, by the time I reached the stairs.
Arriving
at her room, I laid her upon the bed. She lay there quietly enough, neither
speaking nor sobbing - just shaking in a very ague of fear. I took a rug from a
chair near by, and spread it over her. I could do nothing more for her, and so,
crossed to where Pepper lay in a big basket. My sister had taken charge of him
since his wound, to nurse him, for it had proved more severe than I had
thought, and I was pleased to note that, in spite of her state of mind, she had
looked after the old dog, carefully. Stooping, I spoke to him, and, in reply,
he licked my hand, feebly. He was too ill to do more.
Then,
going to the bed, I bent over my sister, and asked her how she felt; but she
only shook the more, and, much as it pained me, I had to admit that my presence
seemed to make her worse.
And
so, I left her - locking the door, and pocketing the key. It seemed to be the
only course to take.
The
rest of the day, I spent between the tower and my study. For food, I brought up
a loaf from the pantry, and on this, and some claret, I lived for that day.
What
a long, weary day it was. If only I could have gone out into the gardens, as is
my wont, I should have been content enough; but to be cooped in this silent
house, with no companion, save a mad woman and a sick dog, was enough to prey
upon the nerves of the hardiest. And out in the tangled shrubberies that
surrounded the house, lurked - for all I could tell - those infernal
Swine-creatures waiting their chance. Was ever a man in such straits?
Once,
in the afternoon, and again, later, I went to visit my sister. The second time,
I found her tending Pepper; but, at my approach, she slid over, unobtrusively,
to the far corner, with a gesture that saddened me beyond belief. Poor girl!
her fear cut me intolerably, and I would not intrude on her, unnecessarily. She
would be better, I trusted, in a few days; meanwhile, I could do nothing; and I
judged it still needful - hard as it seemed - to keep her confined to her room.
One thing there was that I took for encouragement: she had eaten some of the
food I had taken to her, on my first visit.
And
so the day passed.
As
the evening drew on, the air grew chilly, and I began to make preparations for
passing a second night in the tower - taking up two additional rifles, and a heavy
ulster. The rifles I loaded, and laid alongside my other; as I intended to make
things warm for any of the creatures who might show, during the night. I had
plenty of ammunition, and I thought to give the brutes such a lesson, as should
show them the uselessness of attempting to force an entrance.
After
that, I made the 'round of the house again; paying particular attention to the
props that supported the study door. Then, feeling that I had done all that lay
in my power to insure our safety, I returned to the tower; calling in on my
sister and Pepper, for a final visit, on the way. Pepper was asleep; but woke,
as I entered, and wagged his tail, in recognition. I thought he seemed slightly
better. My sister was lying on the bed; though whether asleep or not, I was
unable to tell; and thus I left them.
Reaching
the tower, I made myself as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and
settled down to watch through the night. Gradually, darkness fell, and soon the
details of the gardens were merged into shadows. During the first few hours, I
sat, alert, listening for any sound that might help to tell me if anything were
stirring down below. It was far too dark for my eyes to be of much use.
Slowly,
the hours passed; without anything unusual happening. And the moon rose,
showing the gardens, apparently empty, and silent. And so, through the night,
without disturbance or sound.
Toward
morning, I began to grow stiff and cold, with my long vigil; also, I was
getting very uneasy, concerning the continued quietness on the part of the
creatures. I mistrusted it, and would sooner, far, have had them attack the
house, openly. Then, at least, I should have known my danger, and been able to
meet it; but to wait like this, through a whole night, picturing all kinds of
unknown devilment, was to jeopardize one's sanity. Once or twice, the thought
came to me, that, perhaps, they had gone; but, in my heart, I found it
impossible to believe that it was so.
IX - IN
THE CELLARS
At
last, what with being tired and cold, and the uneasiness that possessed me, I
resolved to take a walk through the house; first calling in at the study, for a
glass of brandy to warm me. This, I did, and, while there, I examined the door,
carefully; but found all as I had left it the night before.
The
day was just breaking, as I left the tower; though it was still too dark in the
house to be able to see without a light, and I took one of the study candles
with me on my 'round. By the time I had finished the ground floor, the daylight
was creeping in, wanly, through the barred windows. My search had shown me
nothing fresh. Everything appeared to be in order, and I was on the point of
extinguishing my candle, when the thought suggested itself to me to have
another glance 'round the cellars. I had not, if I remember rightly, been into
them since my hasty search on the evening of the attack.
For,
perhaps, the half of a minute, I hesitated. I would have been very willing to
forego the task - as, indeed, I am inclined to think any man well might - for of
all the great, awe-inspiring rooms in this house, the cellars are the hugest
and weirdest. Great, gloomy caverns of places, unlit by any ray of daylight.
Yet, I would not shirk the work. I felt that to do so would smack of sheer
cowardice. Besides, as I reassured myself, the cellars were really the most
unlikely places in which to come across anything dangerous; considering that
they can be entered, only through a heavy oaken door, the key of which, I carry
always on my person.
It
is in the smallest of these places that I keep my wine; a gloomy hole close to
the foot of the cellar stairs; and beyond which, I have seldom proceeded.
Indeed, save for the rummage 'round, already mentioned, I doubt whether I had
ever, before, been right through the cellars.
As
I unlocked the great door, at the top of the steps, I paused, nervously, a
moment, at the strange, desolate smell that assailed my nostrils. Then,
throwing the barrel of my weapon forward, I descended, slowly, into the
darkness of the underground regions.
Reaching
the bottom of the stairs, I stood for a minute, and listened. All was silent,
save for a faint drip, drip of water, falling, drop-by-drop, somewhere to my
left. As I stood, I noticed how quietly the candle burnt; never a flicker nor
flare, so utterly windless was the place.
Quietly,
I moved from cellar to cellar. I had but a very dim memory of their
arrangement. The impressions left by my first search were blurred. I had
recollections of a succession of great cellars, and of one, greater than the
rest, the roof of which was upheld by pillars; beyond that my mind was hazy,
and predominated by a sense of cold and darkness and shadows. Now, however, it
was different; for, although nervous, I was sufficiently collected to be able
to look about me, and note the structure and size of the different vaults I
entered.
Of
course, with the amount of light given by my candle, it was not possible to
examine each place, minutely, but I was enabled to notice, as I went along,
that the walls appeared to be built with wonderful precision and finish; while
here and there, an occasional, massive pillar shot up to support the vaulted
roof.
Thus,
I came, at last, to the great cellar that I remembered. It is reached, through
a huge, arched entrance, on which I observed strange, fantastic carvings, which
threw queer shadows under the light of my candle. As I stood, and examined
these, thoughtfully, it occurred to me how strange it was, that I should be so
little acquainted with my own house. Yet, this may be easily understood, when
one realizes the size of this ancient pile, and the fact that only my old
sister and I live in it, occupying a few of the rooms, such as our wants
decide.
Holding
the light high, I passed on into the cellar, and, keeping to the right, paced slowly
up, until I reached the further end. I walked quietly, and looked cautiously
about, as I went. But, so far as the light showed, I saw nothing unusual.
At
the top, I turned to the left, still keeping to the wall, and so continued,
until I had traversed the whole of the vast chamber. As I moved along, I
noticed that the floor was composed of solid rock, in places covered with a
damp mould, in others bare, or almost so, save for a thin coating of light-grey
dust.
I
had halted at the doorway. Now, however, I turned, and made my way up the
center of the place; passing among the pillars, and glancing to right and left,
as I moved. About halfway up the cellar, I stubbed my foot against something
that gave out a metallic sound. Stooping quickly, I held the candle, and saw
that the object I had kicked, was a large, metal ring. Bending lower, I cleared
the dust from around it, and, presently, discovered that it was attached to a
ponderous trap door, black with age.
Feeling
excited, and wondering to where it could lead, I laid my gun on the floor, and,
sticking the candle in the trigger guard, took the ring in both hands, and
pulled. The trap creaked loudly - the sound echoing, vaguely, through the huge
place - and opened, heavily.
Propping
the edge on my knee, I reached for the candle, and held it in the opening,
moving it to right and left; but could see nothing. I was puzzled and
surprised. There were no signs of steps, nor even the appearance of there ever
having been any. Nothing; save an empty blackness. I might have been looking
down into a bottomless, sideless well. Then, even as I stared, full of
perplexity, I seemed to hear, far down, as though from untold depths, a faint
whisper of sound. I bent my head, quickly, more into the opening, and listened,
intently. It may have been fancy; but I could have sworn to hearing a soft
titter, that grew into a hideous, chuckling, faint and distant. Startled, I
leapt backward, letting the trap fall, with a hollow clang, that filled the
place with echoes. Even then, I seemed to hear that mocking, suggestive
laughter; but this, I knew, must be my imagination. The sound, I had heard, was
far too slight to penetrate through the cumbrous trap.
For
a full minute, I stood there, quivering - glancing, nervously, behind and before;
but the great cellar was silent as a grave, and, gradually, I shook off the
frightened sensation. With a calmer mind, I became again curious to know into
what that trap opened; but could not, then, summon sufficient courage to make a
further investigation. One thing I felt, however, was that the trap ought to be
secured. This, I accomplished by placing upon it several large pieces of
'dressed' stone, which I had noticed in my tour along the East wall.
Then,
after a final scrutiny of the rest of the place, I retraced my way through the
cellars, to the stairs, and so reached the daylight, with an infinite feeling
of relief, that the uncomfortable task was accomplished.
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