That Affair at Elizabeth, Burton Egbert Stevenson [chromebook ebook reader .txt] 📗

the cellar. It rested for an instant on a face peering at us around a corner of the wall—a face so distorted, so demoniac, that it seemed scarcely human. Then there was a flash of flame, a report, and the torch crashed from my hand, while a gust of acrid smoke whirled into my face.

I felt Godfrey clutch me and pull me down beside him into the half-filled grave; I even fancied that I touched the staring face which lay there. In an agony of horror I struggled to free myself, to stand erect, ready to brave any danger rather than that, but he held me fast.

"Steady, Lester, steady," he whispered. "If she fires again, I'll drop her," and I knew that he held his revolver in his hand.

"Don't do that!" I gasped. "Don't do that! You've no right to do that!"

"I have the right to defend myself," retorted Godfrey grimly, and waited, his muscles tense.

But she did not fire again. Instead, there was a long, unbroken silence, during which, it seemed to me, I could feel my hair whitening on my head. I also became conscious of a stinging numbness in my right hand. Minute after minute passed, and still no sound came from the outer cellar. I felt that if the silence endured a moment longer, I should shriek aloud.

"Lie still," whispered Godfrey, at last, "and I'll try to find the torch. Did she hit you?"

"My hand feels numb."

"Let me see," and I felt his fingers touching it softly here and there. "It's just a scratch, I think. But wait till I find the torch."

I heard him groping about for it; then for a time all was still again. Suddenly, from an angle of the wall, a shaft of light shot about the cellar. It was empty.

"All right, Lester," said Godfrey's voice. "Let's have a look at the hand."

I got up unsteadily and went to him. A moment's examination showed that my wound was indeed only a scratch. The bullet had grazed the back of the hand and struck the wrist-bone a glancing blow.

"We'll have it dressed as soon as we can," said Godfrey. "And now the next thing is to get out of this place alive. Our enemy is probably lying in wait for us with a loaded gun at the top of the stairs. By the way, I caught only the merest glimpse of the face. Did you recognise it?"

"Yes," I said; "it was the elder Miss Kingdon."

Godfrey gave a little whistle.

"It looked positively devilish," he said. "It gave me the worst scare I've had for a long time. Did you notice the eyes, how they glared at us?"

"Yes," I said, and shivered a little.

"I confess I don't like the thought of going up those stairs," he went on, "but there's no other way out. This window's too small. So we'll have to chance it. Give me your hand."

I stretched out my uninjured hand. In an instant we were in darkness, and I knew that he had exchanged the torch for his revolver.

"Come on," he whispered, and we started forward.

At the foot of the stair we paused for a moment, listening; but no sound came from above. We mounted a step, two steps, three——

Suddenly I felt a convulsive pressure on my hand. From above came a quick succession of sharp taps, as of some one rapping with his knuckles upon the wall. It rose, fell, rose again——

Involuntarily we retreated to the foot of the stair and took refuge against the farther wall. The light flashed out again, and I saw Godfrey mopping his face with his handkerchief. As for myself, I was fairly bathed in perspiration.

"What was it?" I asked hoarsely.

"I don't know," Godfrey answered, in the same tone. "But I know one thing—if we stay down here much longer, we'll both of us lose our nerve completely. I'm going to make a dash for it," and he started for the cellar steps.

I followed him, clenching my teeth convulsively.

But again a sound from overhead stopped us—a quick step across the floor, the opening of a door, and then a scream so shrill, so agonised, that it made my heart stand still.

"Come on!" cried Godfrey, and dashed up the stair.

In an instant, we reached the top. The kitchen was dark, but a stream of light poured through the open door from the room beyond. We sprang to it. I saw it was the dining-room; a light stood on the table and for a second I thought the room was empty. Then my ear caught a kind of dry sobbing, which seemed to come from one corner.

In an alcove between the chimney and the wall was a closet. Its door was open and, as we peered into it, I saw a woman's figure clothed in white straining at some dark and heavy object.

Godfrey took but one glance at it.

"Good God!" he cried, and sprang into the closet. "Bring the light, Lester."

So shaken by I knew not what new horror that I could scarcely walk, I yet had self-control enough to obey. I tottered to the table, took up the lamp, and returned to the closet door. The rays of the light fell within, revealing the whole terrible scene—Lucy Kingdon and Godfrey holding up a figure clothed in black, a figure which swayed and wabbled, turning at last so that I caught a glimpse of the swollen, distorted face—the same face which had glared at us around a corner of the cellar wall.

CHAPTER XVIII A New Turn to the Puzzle

How we got her down, I scarcely know. I dimly remembered bringing a chair for Godfrey and holding up the body for a dreadful instant while he severed the cord about the neck; but my first clear recollection is of her form upon a bed in the adjoining room, with Godfrey bending over her and Lucy Kingdon standing by with such a face of anguish and despair that, for the first time since I had known her, I found it in my heart to pity her.

She had snatched up some dark garment and thrown it over her night-dress, and she stood looking down at the limp form on the bed, with its hideous, staring face, as though struck to stone. All but her lips—they opened and shut, drinking the air in gasps, and from moment to moment she muttered to herself, "I should have known! I should have known! I should have known!"

At last Godfrey stood erect and turned to her, and his face was very tender.

"It's no use," he said gently. "Perhaps we'd better summon a physician; but he can do nothing."

For a moment she did not seem to understand; then she suddenly threw her black hair out of her eyes and fell on her knees beside the bed. She caught one dead hand to her and fondled it and kissed it; while a great wave of sobbing swept over her.

"I should have known!" she repeated. "I should have known! It was my fault!"

I shuddered. Was it her fault? Had she been false to Marcia Lawrence, and her sister true, and was this the result of that treachery?

At last she controlled herself and stood erect, still quivering, but fairly calm. And some of her old proud, disdainful spirit returned to her.

"This gentleman I know," she said, with a little gesture in my direction, after looking at us a moment. "You," she added to Godfrey, "I do not know."

"My name is Godfrey," he answered. "I'm a friend of Mr. Lester's."

"And what are you doing here?"

Not until then did I think of our strange appearance, shoeless, covered from head to foot with yellow clay, spotted here and there with the blood which had dripped from my wound—astonishing objects, truly, to burst in upon a woman in the middle of the night! Even Godfrey, ready in invention as was ever the wily Ulysses, found himself unable, for the moment, to explain.

"I suppose you were lurking about the house," she went on, her face darkening with sudden anger, "Mr. Lester, I know, has a fondness for doing that. No doubt you're also an amateur detective."

But Godfrey had got back his self-possession.

"Something of the kind," he admitted good-humouredly. "We heard you scream and rushed to your assistance."

"You were very kind!" she sneered; then her face changed. "The door was locked," she said. "I locked it when I came home. How did you get in?" She glanced through the dining-room and saw that the door was still closed.

"It wasn't locked at the time we entered," explained Godfrey coolly. "But that was nearly an hour ago. We were not lurking about the house, Miss Kingdon, when we heard you scream. We were in the cellar."

He was watching her keenly, but she showed no sign of understanding.

"In the cellar?" she repeated, and scanned our soiled clothes. "What were you doing there?"

"We were making some investigations," answered Godfrey composedly. "Your sister discovered us there and took a shot at my friend here," and he pointed to my bleeding hand. "Luckily her aim was bad. Didn't you hear the shot?"

"No," she said, staring from one to the other of us, her anger and insolence quite gone. "I heard no shot. I was asleep in the bed here—the door was closed. Why did she shoot at you? Did she take you for burglars?"

"No," said Godfrey, "I hardly think she took us for burglars."

"And yet you were burglars—she was justified in shooting."

"No doubt of that," Godfrey agreed. "We took the chance, and are not complaining."

"You had no business in the cellar. You have no business here. You're intruders. I don't wish you here. I insist that you leave."

"In a moment," said Godfrey.

"At once!" she cried, flushing darkly again. "Or I'll compel you to," and she made a motion toward the pillow of the bed.

"Oh, no, you won't, Miss Kingdon," protested Godfrey easily. "We won't consent to be shot at any more to-night. We have some business here, and we're going to stay till it's completed. Since you didn't hear the shot, will you kindly tell us what it was awakened you? Please believe that we shall be glad to be of service to you. I fear you're going to stand in need of us before long."

She hesitated, still looking at him; but there was no resisting the stern kindness of his eyes, nor doubting that his warning was in earnest.

"I came home about half an hour ago," she began, "or perhaps it's longer than that——"

"Was your sister expecting you?"

"No; I had intended to stay with Mrs. Lawrence all night. But I found I wasn't needed, and so came home."

"The side door was unlocked?"

"Yes, and that surprised me for a moment."

"Was your sister here at the time?"

"She was in the yard—she came in a moment later."

Godfrey and I exchanged a glance, which Miss Kingdon intercepted.

"Wasn't she in the yard?" she demanded. "What is this mystery?"

"We'll tell you in a moment," said Godfrey; "but please let us hear your story first. You had been, you say, at the Lawrence house?"

"Yes; Mrs. Lawrence has been very nervous since Marcia disappeared. I had been sitting with her until she went to sleep. I met Mr. Lester there earlier in the evening," she added, and cast me a half-mocking glance.

"Yes, he told me," said Godfrey. "He's been having an exciting time to-night. Were you with Mrs. Lawrence last night?"

"Yes; I spent the entire night with her."

Again we exchanged a glance.

"And you say that you expected to stay there again to-night?"

"Yes; but my sister hasn't been well for the past two days, so, as soon as Mrs. Lawrence fell asleep and I found she wouldn't need me, I hurried home. I found Harriet very nervous and excited, and finally persuaded her to take a soothing draught and go to bed. I was so tired that I fell asleep almost at once, and I knew nothing more until I was awakened by what seemed to be a kind of drumming on the head-board."

She stopped, shuddering. We, too, had heard that drumming!

"Yes," said Godfrey. "Your bed, I see, is backed against the closet partition—tight against it. It no doubt makes a kind of sounding-board."

"I suppose that's it. I felt for Harriet and found she wasn't there. That startled me wide awake. Again I heard that drumming, and sprang out of bed, lighted the lamp, and rushed to the closet to find that she had——"

The words ended in a sob, which she tried in vain to repress. Godfrey bent again over the figure on the bed.

"She used what is evidently a curtain cord," he said. "Don't look at her, Miss Kingdon. The death is an easy one, whatever it may appear."

"But why did she do it?" demanded Lucy Kingdon. "Why should she