“I cannot see,” she said.
“I’ve brought a torch,” said Arthur.
He pressed a button, and a narrow ray of bright light was cast upon the floor. Dr. Porhoët and Susie went in. Arthur carefully closed the door, and flashed the light of his torch all round them. They stood in a large hall, the floor of which was scattered with the skins of lions that Haddo on his celebrated expedition had killed in Africa. There were perhaps a dozen, and their number gave a wild, barbaric note. A great oak staircase led to the upper floors.
“We must go through all the rooms,” said Arthur.
He did not expect to find Haddo till they came to the lighted attics, but it seemed needful nevertheless to pass right through the house on their way. A flash of his torch had shown him that the walls of the hall were decorated with all manner of armour, ancient swords of Eastern handiwork, barbaric weapons from central Africa, savage implements of medieval warfare; and an idea came to him. He took down a huge battle-axe and swung it in his hand.
“Now come.”
Silently, holding their breath as though they feared to wake the dead, they went into the first room. They saw it difficultly with their scant light, since the thin shaft of brilliancy, emphasising acutely the surrounding darkness, revealed it only piece by piece. It was a large room, evidently unused, for the furniture was covered with holland, and there was a mustiness about it which suggested that the windows were seldom opened. As in many old houses, the rooms led not from a passage but into one another, and they walked through many till they came back into the hall. They had all a desolate, uninhabited air. Their sombreness was increased by the oak with which they were panelled. There was panelling in the hall too, and on the stairs that led broadly to the top of the house. As they ascended, Arthur stopped for one moment and passed his hand over the polished wood.
“It would burn like tinder,” he said.
They went through the rooms on the first floor, and they were as empty and as cheerless. Presently they came to that which had been Margaret’s. In a bowl were dead flowers. Her brushes were still on the toilet table. But it was a gloomy chamber, with its dark oak, and, so comfortless that Susie shuddered. Arthur stood for a time and looked at it, but he said nothing. They found themselves again on the stairs and they went to the second storey. But here they seemed to be at the top of the house.
“How does one get up to the attics?” said Arthur, looking about him with surprise.
He paused for a while to think. Then he nodded his head.
“There must be some steps leading out of one of the rooms.”
They went on. And now the ceilings were much lower, with heavy beams, and there was no furniture at all. The emptiness seemed to make everything more terrifying. They felt that they were on the threshold of a great mystery, and Susie’s heart began to beat fast. Arthur conducted his examination with the greatest method; he walked round each room carefully, looking for a door that might lead to a staircase; but there was no sign of one.
“What will you do if you can’t find the way up?” asked Susie.
“I shall find the way up,” he answered.
They came to the staircase once more and had discovered nothing. They looked at one another helplessly.
“It’s quite clear there is a way,” said Arthur, with impatience. “There must be something in the nature of a hidden door somewhere or other.”
He leaned against the balustrade and meditated. The light of his lantern threw a narrow ray upon the opposite wall.
“I feel certain it must be in one of the rooms at the end of the house. That seems the most natural place to put a means of ascent to the attics.”
They went back, and again he examined the panelling of a small room that had outside walls on three sides of it. It was the only room that did not lead into another.
“It must be here,” he said.
Presently he gave a little laugh, for he saw that a small door was concealed by the woodwork. He pressed it where he thought there might be a spring, and it flew open. Their torch showed them a narrow wooden staircase. They walked up and found themselves in front of a door. Arthur tried it, but it was locked. He smiled grimly.
“Will you get back a little,” he said.
He lifted his axe and swung it down upon the latch. The handle was shattered, but the lock did not yield. He shook his head. As he paused for a moment, an there was a complete silence, Susie distinctly heard a slight noise. She put her hand on Arthur’s arm to call his attention to it, and with strained ears they listened. There was something alive on the other side of the door. They heard its curious sound: it was not that of a human voice, it was not the crying of an animal, it was extraordinary.
It was the sort of gibber, hoarse and rapid, and it filled them with an icy terror because it was so weird and so unnatural.
“Come away, Arthur,” said Susie. “Come away.”
“There’s some living thing in there,” he answered.
He did not know why the sound horrified him. The sweat broke out on his forehead.
“Something awful will happen to us,” whispered Susie, shaking with uncontrollable fear.
“The only thing is to break the door down.”
The horrid gibbering was drowned by the noise he made. Quickly, without pausing, he began to hack at the oak door with all his might. In rapid succession his heavy blows rained down, and the sound echoed through the empty house. There was a crash, and the door swung back. They had been so long
