It was not yet ten o'clock, and I was dismayed at the thought of being left to my own devices in this big country-house, at an hour when the talk at the Hare and Tortoise usually became worth while. I sat down and began to turn over the periodicals on the library table, but I was in no mood for reading.
The butler appeared and offered me drink, but the thought of drinking alone did not appeal to me. I repelled the suggestion coldly; but after I had dropped my eyes to the English review I had taken up, I was conscious that he stood his ground.
"Beg pardon, sir."
"Well?"
"Hit's a bit hod about the chimney, sir."
The professional man in me was at once alert. The chimney's conduct was inexplicable enough, but I was in no humor to brook the theories of a stupid servant. Still, he might know something, so I nodded for him to go on.
He glanced over his shoulder and came a step nearer.
"They say in the village, sir, that the 'ouse is 'aunted."
"What?"
"'Aunted, sir."
"Who say it, James?"
"The liveryman told the coachman, and the 'ousemaid got hit from a seamstress. Hit's werry queer, sir."
"Rubbish, James. I 'm amazed that a person of your station should listen to a liveryman's gossip. There 's the chimney, it's working perfectly. Some shift of air-currents causes it to puff a little smoke into this room occasionally, but those things are not related to the supernatural. We 'll find some way of correcting it in a day or two."
"Werry good, sir. But begging pardon, the chimney hain't hall. Hit walks, if I may so hexpress hit."
"Walks?" I exclaimed, sitting up and throwing down my review. "What walks?"
"You 'ear hit, sir, hin the walls. Hit goes right through the solid brick, most hunaccountable."
"You hear a mouse in the walls and think it's a ghost? But you forget, James, that this is a new house,—only a year or so old,—and spooks don't frequent such places. If it were an old place, it might be possible that the creaking of floors and the settling of walls would cause uneasiness in nervous people. The ghost tradition usually rests on some ugly fact. But here nothing of the kind is present."
"Hit was one of 'is majesty's horfficers, sir," he answered hoarsely.
"Hit was one of 'is majesty's horfficers, sir," he answered hoarsely."Hit was one of 'is majesty's horfficers, sir," he answered hoarsely.
"Hit was one of 'is majesty's horfficers, sir," he answered hoarsely."Hit was one of 'is majesty's horfficers, sir," he answered hoarsely.
It flashed over me that this big stolid fellow was out of his head; but sane or mad he was clearly greatly disturbed. It was best, I thought, on either hypothesis, to speak to him peremptorily, and I rose, the better to deal with the situation.
"What nonsense is this you have in your head? You 're in the United States, and there are n't any majesty's soldiers to deal with. You forget that you 're not in England now."
"But this 'ere country used to be Henglish, you may recall, sir. The story the coachman got hin the village goes back to the hold times, sir, when the colonies was hin rebellion, if I may so call hit, sir, and 'is majesty's troops was puttin' down the rebellion hin these parts. Some American rebels chased a British soldier from hover near White Plains to these 'ere woods as they was then, and they 'anged 'im, sir, right where this 'ere 'ouse stands, if I may make so free."
"Ah! This is a revolutionary relic, then?"
"You 'ave got hit, sir," he sputtered eagerly. "They 'anged the man right 'ere where the 'ouse stands."
"That's not a bad story, James. And what does your mistress say about it?"
"Well, sir; hit's the talk hin the village that that's why she bought the place, sir. She rather fancies ghosts and the like, as you may know, sir."
"Be careful what you say, James. Miss Hollister is a noble and wise lady, and you do well to give her your best service."
"We're all fond of 'er, sir, though she's a bit troubled hin the 'ead, if I may make so bold. She says a good ghost is a hasset."
I did not at once catch 'asset' with an aspirate, but when he repeated it, I laughed in spite of myself.
"You 'd better go to bed, James. And don't encourage talk among the other servants about this ghost. I know something about the building of houses, and I 'll give these walls a good looking over. Good-night."
It was apparent that my interview had not cheered him greatly. He turned at the door, to ask if I would put out the lights, and fear was so clearly written upon his big red face that I dismissed him sharply.
I made myself comfortable for an hour, smoking a cigar over an article on English politics, and while I read, a big log placidly burned itself to ashes. I found the switch and snapped out the library lights. When I had gained the second floor I turned off the lights in the hall below, and as I looked down the well to make sure I had turned the right key, the third floor lights suddenly died and I was left in darkness. This was the least bit disconcerting. I was quite sure that the upper lights had remained burning brightly after the darkening of the lower hall, so that it was hardly possible that the one switch had cut off both lights.
Standing by the rail that guarded the well, I peered upward, thinking that some one above me was manipulating another switch; but the silence was as complete as the blackness. I was about to turn from the rail to the wall to find the switch, but at this moment, as my face was still lifted in the intentness with which I was listening, something brushed my cheek,—something soft of touch and swift of movement. As I gripped the rail I felt this touch once, twice, thrice. Then my hand sought the wall madly, and with so bad an aim that it was quite a minute before I found the switch-plate and snapped all the keys. The stair, and the halls above and below me sprang into being again, and I stood blinking stupidly upward.
Though I was in a modern house thoroughly lighted by electricity, I cannot deny that this incident, following so quickly upon the butler's story, occasioned a moment's acute horripilation, accompanied by an uncomfortable tremor of the legs. As already hinted, I lay no claim to great valor. As for ghosts, I am half persuaded of their existence, and after witnessing a presentation of Hamlet, always feel that Shakespeare is as safe a guide in such matters as the destructive scientific critics.
There were various plausible explanations of the failure of the lights. Some switch that I did not know of, perhaps in the third-floor hall, might have been turned; or the power house in the village might have been shifting dynamos. Either solution of the riddle was credible. But the ghostly touch on my face could not be accounted for so readily. Leaving the lights on, I continued to the third floor, and examined the switch, and sought in other ways to explain these phenomena. My composure returned more slowly than I care to confess, and I think it was probably in my mind that the ghost of King George's dead soldier might be lying in wait for me; but I saw and heard nothing. The doors of the unused chambers on the third floor were closed, and I did not feel justified in trying them. The servants were housed on this floor, at the rear of the house, and a door that cut off their quarters proved on examination to be tightly locked.
The fourth floor was only a half-story, used for storage purposes. The roof was gained, I recalled, by an iron ladder and a hatchway in a trunk-room. I ran down to my room and found a candle, to be armed against any further fickleness of the lights, and set out for the fourth floor. I had changed my coat, and with a couple of candles and a box of matches started for the roof. My courage had risen now, and I was ready for any further adventure that the night might hold for me. Miss Hollister and Cecilia were both in their rooms, presumably asleep; the servants doubtless had their doors barred against ghostly visitors, and the house was mine to explore as I pleased.
I think I was humming slightly as I mounted the stair, which, in keeping with the general luxuriousness that characterized the furnishing of the house, was thickly carpeted even to the fourth floor. I was slipping my hand along the rail, and mounting, I dare say, a little jauntily as I screwed my courage to an unfamiliar notch, when suddenly, midway of the first half, and just before I reached the turn where the stair broke, the lights failed again, with startling abruptness. This was carrying the joke pretty far, and instantly I clapped my hand to my pocket for the box of safety-matches, dug it out, and then in my haste dropped the lid essential to ignition, and stooped to find it.
The stair had narrowed on this flight, and as I sought with futile eagerness to regain the box-lid, I could have sworn that some one passed me. Still half-stooping, I stretched out my arms and clasped empty air, and so suddenly had I thrown myself forward, that I lost my balance and rolled downward the space of half a dozen treads before I recovered myself. I was badly scared and hardly less angry at having missed through my own clumsiness the joy of grappling with the ghost of one of King George's soldiers; but the matches having been lost in the pitch-darkness of the stair, I could get my bearings again only by clinging to the stair-rail until I found the second-floor switch. I should say that two full minutes had passed between the loss of the matches and my flashing on of the lamps. From top to bottom the lights shone brightly; but no one was visible and I heard no sound in any part of the house.
As I began to analyze my sensations during the temporary eclipse of the lights, I was conscious of two things. The being, human or other, that had passed me had been light of step and fleet of motion. There had been something uncanny in the ease and speed of that passing. I was without conviction as to its direction, whether up or down, though I inclined to the former notion for the reason that the employment of a concealed switch above seemed the more reasonable argument. And a faint, an almost imperceptible scent, as of a flower, had seemed to be a part of the passing. Mine is a sensitive nostril, and I was confident that it did not betray me in this. The sensation stirred by that faintest of odors had been agreeable; there was nothing suggestive of grave-mold or cerecloth about it. There was in fact something rather delightfully human and contemporaneous in this fellow that pleased and reassured me. That scamp of a revolutionary British soldier, resenting as was his right the application of hemp to his precious neck, had still a grace in him, and a ghost who prowls undaunted about an electric-lighted house in this twentieth century, having his whim with the switches, cannot be an utterly bad fellow. My respect for all who are doomed to walk the night rose as, leaving the lights on clear to the lower hall, I gathered up my matches and started again for the roof. The trunk-room door opened readily, as on my morning inspection of the chimney-pots, but as I glanced up, I saw that the hatch was open. Through the aperture shone the heavens, a square of stars, and bright with the moon's radiance. Pocketing my matches, I ran nimbly up the ladder.
I had been surprised to find the hatch open, but it is not too much to say that I was greatly astonished by what I saw on the moon-flooded roof. There, midway of a flat area that lay between the two larger chimney-pots, two persons were intently engaged, not in ghostly promenading or posturing, or even in audible conversation, but in a spirited bout with foils! The clicking and scraping of the steel testified unmistakably to the reality of their presence. And I was grateful for those sounds! It needed only silence to tumble me back down the trap with chattering teeth, but these were beyond question corporeal beings, albeit rendered weird and fantastical by the oddity of their playground and the soft effulgence of the moon. The vigor of the onset and the skill of the antagonists held me spellbound. I stood with head and shoulders thrust through the opening, staring at this unusual spectacle, and not sure but that after all my eyes were tricking me.
"Touché!"
It was a woman's voice, faint from breathlessness. She threw off her mask and dropped her foil, and with a most human and feminine gesture put up her hands to adjust her hair. It was Cecilia Hollister, in a short skirt and fencing coat!
Her opponent was a man, and as he too flung off his mask I saw that he was a gentleman of years. If Miss Cecilia Hollister chose to meet strange men on the roof of her aunt's house and practice the fencer's art with them, it was no affair of mine, and I was about to withdraw when the stranger swung round and saw me. His sudden exclamation caused the girl to turn, and as a reasonable frankness has always seemed to me essential to a nice discretion, I crawled out on the roof.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Hollister, but if I had known you were here I should not have intruded. The vagaries of the library chimney have been on my mind, and I was about to have another peep into yonder pot."
She stood at her ease, with one hand resting lightly against the inexplicable chimney in question, and still somewhat spent from her exercise.
She stood at her ease, with one hand resting lightly against the inexplicable chimney.She stood at her ease, with one hand resting lightlyagainst the inexplicable chimney.
She stood at her ease, with one hand resting lightly against the inexplicable chimney.She stood at her ease, with one hand resting lightlyagainst the inexplicable chimney.
"Father," she said, turning to the stranger who stood near, "this is Mr. Ames, who is Aunt Octavia's guest."
The light of the gibbous moon enabled me to discern pretty clearly the form and features of Mr. Bassford Hollister. And I find, in looking over my notes, that I accepted as a matter of course the singular meeting with my hostess's brother. I had grown so used to the ways of the Hollisters I already knew, that the meeting with another member of the family at eleven o'clock at night on the roof of this remarkable house gave me no great shock of surprise. He was tall, slender and dark, with fine eyes that suggested Cecilia's. His close-trimmed beard was slightly gray: but he bore himself erect, and I had already seen that he was alert of arm and eye and nimble of foot.
He put on his coat, which had been lying across one of the crenelations, and covered his head with a small soft hat.
"This will do for to-night, Cecilia. You had the best of me. We 'll try again another time. I 'm glad you stopped us, Mr. Ames. We 'd had enough."
He seemed in no wise disturbed by my appearance, nor in any haste to leave. This meeting between the father and daughter, I reasoned, could hardly have been a matter of chance, and it must have been in Cecilia's mind that some sort of explanation would not be amiss.
"Father and I have fenced together for years," she said. "My sister Hezekiah does not care for the sport. As you have already seen that my aunt Octavia is an unusual woman, given to many whims, I will not deny to you that at present my father ispersona non gratain this house. I beg to assure you that nothing to his discredit or mine has contributed to that situation, nor can our meeting here to-night be construed as detrimental to him or to me. In meeting my father in this way I have in a sense broken faith with my aunt Octavia, but I assure you, Mr. Ames, that it is only the natural affection for a daughter that led my father to seek me here in this clandestine fashion."
Cecilia had spoken steadily, but her voice broke as she concluded, and she walked quickly toward the hatchway. Her father stepped before me to give her his hand through the opening.
I withdrew to the edge of the roof while a few words passed between them that seemed to be on his part an expostulation and on hers an earnest denial and plea. He passed her the foils and masks and she vanished; whereupon he addressed himself to me.
"I had learned from both my daughters of your presence in my sister's house, and I had expected to meet you, sooner or later. This is a strange business, a strange business."
He had drawn out a pipe, which he filled and lighted dexterously. The flame of his match gave me better acquaintance with his face. He leaned against the serrated roof-guard with the greatest composure, his hat tilted to one side, and drew his pipe to a glow. I had not forgotten my encounter with the ghost on the stair, and as I waited for him to speak, I was trying to identify him with the mysterious agency that had tampered with the lights, and passed so ghostly a hand across my face in the stair-well. I could hardly say that there had not been time for either Bassford Hollister or his daughter to have reached the roof after my experiences on the stair; and yet they had been engaged so earnestly at the moment of my appearance at the hatchway that it was improbable that either could have played ghost and flown to the roof before I reached it. And eliminating the ghost altogether, I had yet to learn how Bassford Hollister had gained entrance to the house. It seemed best to drop speculations and wait for him to declare himself.
"You must understand, Mr. Ames, that my daughters, both of them, are very dear to me. It is the great grief of my life that owing to matters beyond my control I have been unable to care for them as I should like to do. This being the case, I have been obliged to allow them to accept many favors from my only sister Octavia. This in ordinary circumstances would not be repugnant to my pride; but my sister is a very unusual person. She must do for my children in her own way, and while I was prepared, in agreeing that they should accept her bounty, for some whimsical manifestation of her eccentric character, I did not imagine that she would go so far as to shut me out from all knowledge of her plans for them. That, Mr. Ames, is what has happened."
His voice rose and fell mournfully. He puffed his pipe for a moment and continued:—
"Cecilia, being the older, was to be launched first. Hezekiah was to be cared for in due season. Last summer Octavia took them both abroad. As you are aware, they are young women of unusual distinction of appearance and manner, and they attracted a great deal of attention. From what I hear, a troop of suitors followed them about. That sort of thing would appeal to Octavia; to me it is most repellent, but I had already committed myself, agreeing that Octavia should manage in her own fashion. There is now something forward here which I do not understand. I have an idea that Octavia has contrived some preposterous scheme for choosing a husband for Cecilia that is in keeping with her odd fashion of transacting all her business. I do not know its nature, and by the terms of her agreement Cecilia is not to disclose the method to be employed to me,—not even to me, her own father. You must agree, Ames, that that is rather rubbing it in."
"But you don't assume that your daughter is not to be a free agent in the matter? You don't believe that some unworthy and improper man is to be forced upon her?"
"That, sir, is exactly what I fear!"
"You will pardon me, but I cannot for a moment believe that Miss Hollister would risk her niece's happiness even to satisfy her own peculiar humor. Your sister is a shrewd woman, and her heart, I am convinced, is the kindest. Among the suitors now camped at the Prescott Arms there must be some one whom your daughter approves, and I see no reason why he should not ultimately be her choice. Now that you have broached the matter, I make free to say that one of these suitors is an old friend of mine. Hartley Wiggins by name, and that he is a man of the highest character and a gentleman in the strictest sense."
He had been listening to me with the greatest composure, but at the mention of Wiggins's name he started and nervously clutched my arm.
"That man may be all that you say," he cried chokingly, "but he has acted infamously toward both my daughters. He is a rogue, and a most despicable fellow. He has flirted outrageously with Hezekiah while at the same time pretending to be deeply interested in Cecilia. I say to you in all candor that a man who will trifle with the affections of a child like Hezekiah is a villain, nothing less."
"But, my dear sir, is it not possible that you do him a great wrong? May it not be the other way round, that Hezekiah is trifling with Wiggins's affections? He 's a splendid fellow, Hartley Wiggins, but he 's a little slow, that's all. And between two superb young women like your daughters a man may be pardoned for doubts and hesitations; a case of being happy with either if t'other dear charmer were only away. To put it quite concretely, I will say that in my own very slight acquaintance with these young women I feel the spell of both. Your sister, I take it, is anxious not to show partiality for any of these men, and yet I dare say she probably feels kindly disposed toward Wiggins. His worst crime seems to be that he chose Tory ancestors! The thing is bound to straighten itself out."
He tossed his head impatiently.
"Has it occurred to you that Octavia's interest in this Hartley Wiggins may be due to a trifling and immaterial fact?"
"Nothing beyond his indubitable eligibility."
"Then let me tell you what I suspect. Both his names contain seven letters. My sister is slightly cracked as to the number seven. I swear to you my belief that the fact that his names contain seven letters each is at the bottom of all this. Incredible, my dear sir, but wholly possible!"
"Then, such being the case, why does n't she show her hand openly? If she believes that Wiggins with his septenary names is ordained by the seven original pleiades to marry your daughter Cecilia, I should think that by the same token she would have sought a man rejoicing in the noble name of Septimus. You send conjecture far when once you entertain so absurd an idea."
"You think my assumption unlikely?" he asked eagerly.
"I certainly do, Mr. Hollister. But I confess that I had never counted the letters in Wiggins's name before, and your suggestion is interesting. And this whole idea of the potential seven in our affairs has possibilities. If seven at all, why is n't it possible that your sister has Jacob in mind and the seven years he served for Rachel? You may as well assume that, as Wiggins is specially favored in the number of letters in his singularly prosaic and unromantic name, it is Miss Hollister's plan to keep him dallying seven years."
He seized me by the arm and forced me back against the battlements, then stood off and eyed me fiercely.
"You speak of serving and of service! Will you tell me just why you are here and what brings you into this affair! My daughter Hezekiah is the frankest person alive, and she told me of her meetings with you and that you had been to the Asolando,—where she spent a day in the sheerest spirit of mischief. That was the beginning of all our troubles, that damned hole with its insane confectionery and poetry. If Cecilia, in a misguided notion of earning her own living, had not gone there and worn an apron for a week before I dragged her out, she would never have met Wiggins. And now will you kindly tell me just what you are doing in my sister's house, where I have to come like a thief in the night to see one of my own children?"
This fierce deliverance touched me nearly: I doubted my ability to explain to one of these amazing Hollisters just how I came to be sojourning in the house of another of the family without any business that would bear scrutiny. I hastened to declare my profession, and that I had been summoned by Miss Hollister to examine her chimneys. I could not, however, tell him that until my arrival the chimneys had behaved themselves admirably!
"You've admitted your friendship for this Wiggins person; that's enough," he said when I had concluded. "I advise you to leave the house at once. I tell you he 's got to be eliminated from the situation. Understand, that I do not threaten you with violence, but I will not promise to abstain from visiting heavy punishment upon that fellow. And you? A chimney-doctor? I am a man of considerable knowledge of the world, and I say to you very candidly that I don't believe there is any such profession."
"Then let me tell you," I replied, not without heat, "that I am a graduate in architecture, and that if you will do me the honor to consult a list of the alumni of the Institute of Technology, you will find that I was graduated there not without credit. And as for remaining in this house, I beg to inform you, Mr. Hollister, that as I am your sister's guest and as she is perfectly competent to manage her own affairs, I shall stay here as long as it pleases her to ask me to remain. And now, one other matter. How did you gain this roof to-night, when by your own admission you are not on such terms with your sister as would justify you in entering it openly?"
The moonlight did not fail to convey the contempt in his face, but I thought he grinned as he answered quietly:—
"You don't seem to understand, young man, that you are entitled to no explanations from me. If my sister has her sense of a joke, I assure you that I have mine. I came here to see my daughter. As I taught her to fence when she was ten years old and as she is particularly expert, and moreover, as in my present condition of poverty I have been obliged to forego the pleasure of metropolitan life and to give up my membership in the Fencers' Club, you can hardly deny my right to meet my own daughter for a brief bout anywhere I please. You strike me as a singularly fresh young person. It would be a positive grief to me to feel that my conduct had displeased you. And now, as the night grows chill, I shall beg you to precede me into the house by the way you came."
"But first," I persisted, "let me ask a question. It is possible that you yourself have some preference among your daughter's several suitors, Mr. Hollister. Would you object to telling me which one you would choose for Miss Cecilia?"
"Beyond question, the man for Cecilia, if I have any voice in the matter, is Lord Arrowood."
"Arrowood!" I exclaimed. "You surprise me greatly. I saw him at the inn, and he seemed to me the most insignificant and uninteresting one of the lot."
"That proves you a person of poor gifts of discernment, Mr. Ames;" and his tone and manner were quite reminiscent of his sister's ways; and his further explanation proved him even more worthily the brother of his sister.
"As I was obliged," he began, "owing to an unfortunate physical handicap, to abandon my art, that of a marine painter, I have given my attention for a number of years to the study of the Irish situation. Between the various political parties of Great Britain, poor Ireland can never regain her ancient power. But I see no reason why she should not become once more a free and independent nation. I have gone deeply into Irish history, and I may modestly say that I probably know that history from the time of the Anglo-Norman invasion to the death of Gladstone better than any other living man. I met Arrowood by chance in the highway yesterday, and I found that he holds exactly my ideas."
"But Arrowood isn't an Irishman," I interjected; "neither, I should say, are you!"
"That's not to the point. Neither was Napoleon a Frenchman strictly speaking; nor was Lafayette an American. A friend of mine in Wall Street is ready, when the time is ripe, to finance the scheme by selling bonds to the multitudes of Irish office-holders throughout the United States,—most of whom are not unknown to the banks."
"And I suppose you and Arrowood would sit jointly in the seat of the ancient kings in Dublin after you had effected yourcoup."
"You lose your bet, Mr. Ames. We have agreed that, as the mayors of Boston for many years have been Irishmen, and as they have, by their prowess in holding the natives in subordination, demonstrated the highest political sagacity, we could not do better than take one of these rulers of the old Puritan capital and place him on the Irish throne. The keen humor of that move would so tickle all interested powers, that the investiture and coronation of the new ruler would be accomplished without firing a shot."
This certainly had the true Hollister touch! Miss Octavia herself could not have devised a more delightful scheme.
"And so," Mr. Bassford Hollister concluded, "I naturally incline toward Arrowood, though he is so poor that he was obliged to come over in the steerage to continue his wooing of my daughter."
He let himself down into the dark trunk-room, waited for me courteously, and walked by my side to the stairway, both of us maintaining silence. I was deeply curious to know how he had entered and whether he expected to go down the front way and out the main door. We kept together to the third-floor hall,—I could have sworn to that; then suddenly, just as we reached the stairway, out went the lights, and we were in utter darkness. I smothered an exclamation, clutched my matches and struck a light, and as the stick flamed slowly, I looked about for Bassford Hollister; but he had vanished as suddenly and completely as though a trap had yawned beneath us and swallowed him. I found the third-floor switch and it responded immediately, flooding the stair-well to the lower hall, but I neither saw nor heard anything more of Hollister.
Astounded by this performance, I continued on to the lower floor to have a look around, and there, calmly reading by the library table, sat Miss Octavia!
"Late hours, Mr. Ames!" she cried. "I supposed you had retired long ago."
I was still the least bit ruffled by that last transaction on the stair, and I demanded a little curtly:—
"Pardon my troubling you; but may I inquire, Miss Hollister, how long you have been sitting here?"
The clock on the stair began to strike twelve, and she listened composedly to a few of the deep-toned strokes before replying.
"Just half an hour. I thought some one knocked at my door about an hour ago. The lights were on and I came down, saw a magazine that had escaped my eye before, and here you find me."
"Some one knocked at your door?"
"I thought so. You know, the servants have an idea that the place is haunted, and I thought that if I sat here the ghost might take it upon himself to walk. I confess to a slight disappointment that it is only you who have appeared. I suppose it was n't you who knocked at my door?"
"No," I replied, laughing a little at her manner, "not unless it was you who switched off the lights as I was coming down from the fourth floor. I have been studying this chimney from the roof. I know something of the ways of electric switches, and they don't usually move of their own accord."
"Your coming to this house has been the greatest joy to me, Mr. Ames. I should not have imagined, in a chance look at you, that you were psychical, and yet such is clearly the fact. I assure you that I have not touched any switch since I left my room. It was unnecessary, as I found the lights on. And I acquit you of rapping, rapping at my chamber-door. It gives me the greatest satisfaction to assume that the house is haunted, and at any time you find the ghost, I beg that you will lose no time in presenting me. If the prowler is indeed one of King George's soldiers, hanged during the Revolution on the site of this house, I should like to have words with him. I have just been reading an article on the political corruption in Philadelphia in this magazine. It bears every evidence of truth, but if half of it is fiction I still feel that, as an American citizen, though denied the inalienable right of representation assured me in the Constitution, we owe that ghost an apology; for certainly nothing was gained by throwing off the British yoke, and that poor soldier died in a worthy cause."
She wore a remarkable lavender dressing-gown, and a night-cap such as I had never seen outside a museum. As she concluded her speech, spoken in that curious lilting tone which, from the beginning, had left me in doubt as to the seriousness of all her statements, she rose and, still clasping her magazine, made me a courtesy and was soon mounting the stair.
I heard her door close a minute later, and then, feeling that I had earned the right to repose, I went to my room and to bed.
I slept late, and on going down found the table set in the breakfast-room. A pleasant inadvertence marked the choice of eating-places at Hopefield Manor; I was never quite sure where I should find a table spread. No one was about, and I was seized with that mild form of panic familiar to the guest who finds himself late to a meal. As I paused uncertainly in the door, viewing the table, set, I noticed, for only one person, Miss Octavia entered briskly, her slight figure concealed by a prodigious gingham apron.
"Good-morrow, merry gentleman," she began blithely. "The most delightful thing has happened. Without the slightest warning, without the faintest intimation of their dissatisfaction, the house-servants have departed, with the single exception of my personal maid, who, being a Swede and therefore singularly devoid of emotion, was unshaken by the ghost-rumors that have sent the rest of my staff scampering over the hills."
She lighted the coffee-machine lamp in her most tranquil fashion, and begged me to be seated.
"I have already breakfasted," she continued, "and Cecilia is even now preparing you an omelet with her own hand. I beg to reassure you, as my guest, that theémeuteof the servants causes me not the slightest annoyance. From reading the comic papers you may have gained an impression that the loss of servants is a tragic business in any household, but nothing so petty can disturb me. Cecilia is an excellent cook; and I myself shall not starve so long as I have strength to crack an egg or lift a stove-lid. And besides, I still retain my early trust in Providence. I do not doubt that before nightfall a corps of excellent servants will again be on duty here. Very likely they are even now bound for this place, coming from the wet coasts of Ireland, from Liverpool, from lonely villages in Scandinavia. The average woman would merely fret herself into a sanatorium if confronted with the problem I face this morning, but I hope you will testify in future to the fact that I faced this day in the cheeriest and most hopeful spirit."
"Not only shall I do so, Miss Hollister," I replied, trying to catch her own note, "but it will, throughout my life, give me the greatest satisfaction to set your cause aright. To that extent let me be Horatio to your Hamlet."
"Thank you, milord," she returned, with the utmost gravity. "And may I say further that the incident gives the stamp of authenticity to my ghost? I was obliged to pay those people double wages to lure them from the felicities of the city, and they must have been a good deal alarmed to have left so precipitately. You must excuse me now, as it is necessary for me to do the pastry-cook's work this morning, that individual having fled with the rest, and it being incumbent on me, to maintain my fee-simple in this property, to make a dozen pies before high noon. But first I must visit the stables, where I believe the coachman still lingers, having been prevented from joining the stampede of the house-servants by the painful twinges of gout."
With this she left me, and I began pecking at a grape-fruit. It had been in my mind as I dressed that morning to play truant and visit the city. It was almost imperative that I take a look at my office, and I had resolved upon a plan which would, I believed, give me the key to the ghost mystery. If Pepperton had built that house he must know whether he had contrived any secret passages that would afford exits and entrances not apparent to the eye. It would be an easy matter to run into the city, explain myself to my assistant, and get hold of Pepperton. My mind was made up, and I had even consulted a time-table and chosen one of the express trains. As I sat at the table absorbed in my plans for the day, my nerves received a sudden shock. I had heard no one enter, yet a voice at my shoulder murmured casually:
"Hast thou seen ghosts? Hast thou at midnight heard"—
It was the voice of Hezekiah, I knew, before I faced her. She wore a blue sailor-waist with a broad red ribbon tied under the collar, and a blue tam o' shanter capped her head. She bore a tray that contained my omelet, a plate of toast, and other sundries incidental to a substantial breakfast, which she distributed deftly upon the table.
"How did you get here?" I blurted, my nerves still out of control.
"The kitchen door, sir. I had ridden into the garden, and seeing Aunt Octavia heading for the stables and Cecilia at the kitchen window, I pedaled boldly in. Cecilia wanted to borrow my bicycle, and being a good little sister, I gave it to her. She also said that you required food, so I told her to go and I would carry you your breakfast. I shall skip myself in a minute. You may draw your own coffee. Mind the machine; it tips if you are n't careful."
She went to the window and peered out toward the stables.
"May I ask, Daughter of Kings, where your sister has gone so suddenly?"
"Certainly. She 's off for town to chase a cook and a few other people to run this hotel. I heard at the post-office that the whole camp had deserted, so I ran over to see what was doing; and just for that I 've got to walk home."
"But your aunt said that Providence would take care of the servant question; she expected a whole corps of ideal servants to come straying in during the day."
Hezekiah laughed. (It is not right for any girl to be as pretty as Hezekiah, or to laugh as musically.) She told me to sit down, and as I did so she passed the toast and helped herself to a slice into which she set her fine white teeth neatly, watching me with the merriest of twinkles in her brown eyes.
"Cecilia has n't Aunt Octavia's confidence in Providence, so she 's taking a shot at the employment agencies. She has left a note on the kitchen table to inform Aunt Octavia that she had forgotten an engagement with the dentist and has gone to catch the ten-eighteen."
"That, Hezekiah, is a lie. It isn't quite square to deceive your aunt that way," I remarked soberly.
Hezekiah laughed again.
"You absurdity! Don't you know Aunt Octavia yet! She will be perfectly overjoyed when she comes back and finds that note from Cecilia. She likes disappearances, mysteries, and all that kind of thing. But it is barely possible that you will have to wash the dishes. I can't, you see, for I 'm not supposed to come on the reservation at all—not until Cecilia has found a husband. Is n't it perfectly delicious?"
"All of that, Daughter of Kings! I think that as soon as I can regain confidence in my own sanity I shall like it myself. But,"—and I watched her narrowly,—"you see, Hezekiah, there is really a ghost, you know."
Once more that divine mirth in her bubbled mellowly. She had walked guardedly to the window and turned swiftly with a mockery of fear in her face.
"Aunt Octavia approaches, and I must be off. But that ghost, Mr. Chimney-Man,—when you find him, please let me know. There are a lot of things I want to ask some reliable ghost about the hereafter."
With this she fled, and I heard the front door close smartly after her. An instant later Miss Octavia appeared and asked solicitously how I liked my omelette.
"The coachman has been telling me a capital ghost-story. He believes them to be beneficent and declares that he will under no circumstances leave my employment."
She sat down and folded her arms upon the table. For the first time I believed that she was serious. There was, in fact, a troubled look on her sweet, whimsical face. It occurred to me that the loss of her servants was not really the slight matter she had previously made of it.
"Mr. Ames, will you pardon me for asking you a question of the most intimate character? It is only after much hesitation that I do so."
I bowed encouragingly, my curiosity fully aroused.
"You may ask me anything in the world, Miss Hollister."
"Then I wish you would tell me whether,—I can't express the dislike I feel in doing this,—but can you tell me whether you have seen in the hands of my niece Cecilia a small—a very small, silver-backed note-book."
"Yes, I have," I answered, greatly surprised.
"And may I ask whether,—and again I must plead my deep concern as an excuse for making such an inquiry,—whether you by any chance saw her making any notation in that book?"
I recalled the silver-bound book perfectly, but had attached no importance to it; but if Cecilia's fortunes were so intimately related to it as Miss Hollister's manner implied, I felt that I must be careful of my answer. I was trying to recall the precise moment at which I had entered the library the preceding evening after Hume's departure, and while I was intent upon this my silence must have been prolonged. I felt obliged to make an answer of some sort, and yet I did not relish the thought of conveying information that might distress and embarrass a noble girl like Cecilia Hollister. Something in my face must have conveyed a hint of this inner conflict to Miss Hollister, for she rose suddenly, holding up her hand as though to silence me. She seemed deeply moved, and cried in agitation:—
"Do not answer me! The question was quite unfair,—quite unfair,—and yet I assure you that at the moment I made the inquiry, I felt justified."
She retreated toward the door as I rose; and then with her composure fully restored she courtesied gracefully.
"Luncheon here will be a buffet affair to-day, as I shall be engaged with matters of pastry. I'm sure, however, that you will find employment until dinner-time, when my house will be fully in order again."
I intended that this should be a busy day, so without making explanations I went to the stable, told the coachman I wished to be driven to the station, and was soon whizzing over the hills toward Katonah. The coachman, an Irishman, introduced the subject of the ghost as soon as we were out of sight of the house.
"The ole lady's dipped; she's dipped, sir," he remarked leadingly.
"It's catching," I answered; "so you'd better forget it."
He thereupon settled glumly to his driving. As we crossed the bridge near where I had first encountered Hezekiah in the apple-orchard, I spied her trudging across a meadow, and she waved her hand gaily. Meadows and streams and stars! Of such were Hezekiah's kingdom.
I wondered how Wiggins and the other gentlemen at the Prescott Arms were faring. My question was partially answered a second later, as we passed the road that forked off to the inn. On a stone by the roadside sat Lord Arrowood, desolately guarding a kit-bag and a suit-case. He was dressed in a shabby Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, and sucked a pipe.