The Oxford Book of Victorian Ghost Stories (70 page)

'Bravo!' said Malcolm huskily, drowning one or two faint 'Noes'. 'Just for the joke, gentlemen.'

'No, no! Drop it, Hirst,' said another man.

'Only for the joke,' said Hirst, somewhat eagerly. 'I've got some things upstairs in which I am going to play in the "Rivals"—knee-breeches, buckles, and all that sort of thing. It's a rare chance. If you'll wait a bit I'll give you a full dress rehearsal, entitled, "Jerry Bundler; or, The Nocturnal Strangler".'

'You won't frighten us,' said the commercial, with a husky laugh.

'I don't know that,' said Hirst sharply; 'it's a question of acting, that's all. I'm pretty good, ain't I, Somers?'

'Oh, you're all right—for an amateur,' said his friend, with a laugh.

'I'll bet you a level sov. you don't frighten me,' said the stout traveller.

'Done!' said Hirst. 'I'll take the bet to frighten you first and the old gentleman afterwards. These gentlemen shall be the judges.'

'You won't frighten us, sir,' said another man 'because we're prepared for you; but you'd better leave the old man alone. It's dangerous play.'

'Well, I'll try you first,' said Hirst, springing up. 'No gas, mind.'

He ran lightly upstairs to his room, leaving the others, most of whom had been drinking somewhat freely, to wrangle about his proceedings. It ended in two of them going to bed.

'He's crazy on acting,' said Somers, lighting his pipe. 'Thinks he's the equal of anybody almost. It doesn't matter with us, but I won't let him go to the old man. And he won't mind so long as he gets an opportunity of acting to us.'

'Well, I hope he'll hurry up,' said Malcolm, yawning; 'it's after twelve now.'

Nearly half an hour passed. Malcolm drew his watch from his pocket and was busy winding it, when George, the waiter, who had been sent on an errand to the bar, burst suddenly into the room and rushed towards them.

' 'E's comin', gentlemen,' he said breathlessly.

'Why, you're frightened, George,' said the stout commercial, with a chuckle.

'It was the suddenness of it,' said George sheepishly; 'and besides, I didn't look for seein' 'im in the bar. There's only a glimmer of light there, and 'e was sitting on the floor behind the bar. I nearly trod on im.

'Oh, you'll never make a man, George,' said Malcolm.

'Well, it took me unawares,' said the waiter. 'Not that I'd have gone to the bar by myself if I'd known 'e was there, and I don't believe you would either sir.'

'Nonsense!' said Malcolm. 'I'll go and fetch him in.'

'You don't know what it's like, sir,' said George, catching him by the sleeve. 'It ain't fit to look at by yourself, it ain't, indeed. It's got the-

What's that?'

They all started at the sound of a smothered cry from the staircase and the sound of somebody running hurriedly along the passage. Before anybody could speak, the door flew open and a figure bursting into the room flung itself gasping and shivering upon them.

'What is it? What's the matter?' demanded Malcolm. 'Why, it's Mr. Hirst.' He shook him roughly and then held some spirit to his lips. Hirst drank it greedily and with a sharp intake of his breath gripped him by the arm.

'Light the gas, George,' said Malcolm.

The waiter obeyed hastily. Hirst, a ludicrous but pitiable figure in knee-breeches and coat, a large wig all awry, and his face a mess of grease paint, clung to him, trembling.

'Now what's the matter?' asked Malcolm.

'I've seen it,' said Hirst, with a hysterical sob. 'O Lord, I'll never play the fcol again, never!'

'Seen what?' said the others.

'Him—it—the ghost—anything!' said Hirst wildly.

'Rot!' said Malcolm uneasily.

'I was coming down the stairs,' said Hirst. 'Just capering down—as I thought—it ought to do. I felt a tap-'

He broke off suddenly and peered nervously through the open door into the passage.

'I thought I saw it again,' he whispered. 'Look—at the foot of the stairs. Can you see anything?'

'No, mere's nothing there,' said Malcolm, whose own voice shook a little. 'Go on. You felt a tap on your shoulder-'

'I turned round and saw it—a little wicked head and a white dead face. Pah!'

'That's what I saw in the bar,' said George. ' 'Orrid it was —devilish!'

Hirst shuddered, and, still retaining his nervous grip of Malcolm's sleeve, dropped into a chair.

'Well, it's a most unaccountable thing,' said the dumbfounded Malcolm, turning round to the others. 'It's the last time I come to this house.'

'I leave tomorrow,' said George. 'I wouldn't go down to that bar again by myself, no, not for fifty pounds!'

'It's talking about the thing that's caused it, I expect,' said one of the men; 'we've all been talking about this and having it in our minds. Practically we've been forming a spiritualistic circle without knowing it.'

'Hang the old gentleman!' said Malcolm heartily. 'Upon my soul, I'm half afraid to go to bed. It's odd they should both think they saw something.'

'I saw it as plain as I see you, sir,' said George solemnly. 'P'raps if you keep your eyes turned up the passage you'll see it for yourself.'

They followed the direction of his finger, but saw nothing, although one of them fancied that a head peeped round the corner of the wall.

'Who'll come down to the bar?' said Malcolm, looking round.

'You can go, if you like,' said one of the others, with a faint laugh; 'we'll wait here for you.'

The stout traveller walked towards the door and took a few steps up the passage. Then he stopped. All was quite silent, and he walked slowly to the end and looked down fearfully towards the glass partition which shut off the bar. Three times he made as though to go to it; then he turned back, and, glancing over his shoulder, came hurriedly back to the room.

'Did you see it, sir?' whispered George.

'Don't know,' said Malcolm shortly. 'I fancied I saw something, but it might have been fancy. I'm in the mood to see anything just now. How are you feeling now, sir?'

'Oh, I feel a bit better now,' said Hirst somewhat brusquely, as all eyes were turned upon him. 'I daresay you think I'm easily scared, but you didn't see it.'

'Not at all,' said Malcolm, smiling faintly despite himself.

'I'm going to bed,' said Hirst, noticing the smile and resenting it. 'Will you share my room with me, Somers?'

'I will with pleasure,' said his friend 'provided you don't mind sleeping with the gas on full all night.'

He rose from his seat, and bidding the company a friendly good night, left the room with his crestfallen friend. The others saw them to the foot of the stairs, and having heard their door close, returned to the coffee-room.

'Well, I suppose the bet's off?' said the stout commercial, poking the fire and then standing with his legs apart on the hearthrug; 'though, as far as I can see, I won it. I never saw a man so scared in all my life. Sort of poetic justice about it, isn't there?'

'Never mind about poetry or justice,' said one of his listeners; 'who's going sleep with me?'

'I will,' said Malcolm affably.

'And I suppose we share a room together, Mr. Leek?' said the third man, turning to the fourth.

'No, thank you,' said the other briskly; 'I don't believe in ghosts. If anything comes into my room I shall shoot it.'

'That won't hurt a spirit, Leek,' said Malcolm decisively.

'Well the noise'll be like company to me,' said Leek, 'and it'll wake the house too. But if you're nervous, sir,' he added with a grin to the man who had suggested sharing his room, 'George'll be only too pleased to sleep on the door-mat inside your room, I know.'

'That I will, sir,' said George fervently; 'and if you gentlemen would only come down with me to the bar to put the gas out, I could never be sufficiently grateful.'

They went out in a body, with the exception of Leek, peering carefully before them as they went. George turned the light out in the bar and they returned unmolested to the coffee-room, and, avoiding the sardonic smile of Leek, prepared to separate for the night.

'Give me the candle while you put the gas out, George,' said the traveller.

The waiter handed it to him and extinguished the gas, and at the same moment all distinctly heard a step in the passage outside. It stopped at the door, and as they watched with bated breath, the door creaked and slowly opened. Malcolm fell back open-mouthed, as a white, leering face, with sunken eyeballs and close-cropped bullet head, appeared at the opening.

For a few seconds the creature stood regarding them, blinking in a strange fashion at the candle. Then, with a sidling movement, it came a little way into the room and stood there as if bewildered.

Not a man spoke or moved, but all watched with a horrible fascination as the creature removed its dirty neck cloth and its head rolled on its shoulder. For a minute it paused, and then holding the rag before it, moved towards Malcolm.

The candle went out suddenly with a flash and a bang. These was a smell of powder, and something writhing in the darkness on the floor. A faint, choking cough, and then silence. Malcolm was the first to speak. 'Matches,' he said in a strange voice. George struck one. Then he leapt at the gas and a burner flamed from the match. Malcolm touched the thing on the floor with his foot and found it soft. He looked at his companions. They mouthed enquiries at him, but he shook his head. He lit the candle, and, kneeling down, examined the silent thing on the floor. Then he rose swiftly, and dipping his handkerchief in the water jug, bent down again and grimly wiped the white face. Then he sprang back with a cry of incredulous horror, pointing at it. Leek's pistol fell to the floor and he shut out the sight with his hands, but the others, crowding forward, gazed spell-bound at the dead face of Hirst.

Before a word was spoken the door opened and Somers hastily entered the room. His eyes fell on the floor. 'Good God!' he cried. 'You didn't-'

Nobody spoke.

'I told him not to,' he said in a suffocating voice. 'I told him not to. I told him-'

He leaned against the wall, deathly sick, put his arms out feebly, and fell fainting into the traveller's arms.

An Eddy on the Floor

BERNARD CAPES

I had the pleasure of an invitation to one of those reunions or seances at the house, in a fashionable quarter, of my distant connection, Lady Barbara Grille, whereat it was my hostess's humour to gather together those many birds of alien feather and incongruous habit that will flock from the hedgerows to the least little flattering crumb of attention. And scarce one of them but thinks the simple feast is spread for him alone. And with so cheap a bait may a tide lure.

That reference to so charming a personality should be in this place is a digression. She affects my narrative only inasmuch as I happened to meet at her house a gentleman who for a time exerted a considerable influence over my fortunes.

The next morning after the seance, my landlady entered with a card, which she presented to my consideration:

Major James Shrike, H. M. Prison, D-

All astonishment, I bade my visitor up.

He entered briskly, fur-collared, hat in hand, and bowed as he stood on the threshold. He was a very short man—snub-nosed; rusty-whiskered; indubitably and unimpressively a cockney in appearance. He might have walked out of a Cruikshank etching.

I was beginning, 'May I enquire—' when the other took me up with a vehement frankness that I found engaging at once.

'This is a great intrusion. Will you pardon me? I heard some remarks of yours last night that deeply interested me. I obtained your name and address from our hostess, and took the liberty of--'

'Oh! pray be seated. Say no more. My kinswoman's introduction is all-sufficient. I am happy in having caught your attention in so motley a crowd.'

'She doesn't—forgive the impertinence—take herself seriously enough.'

'Lady Barbara? Then you've found her out?' 'Ah!—you're not offended?' 'Not in the least.'

'Good. It was a motley assemblage, as you say. Yet I'm inclined to think I found my pearl in the oyster. I'm afraid I interrupted—eh?' 'No, no, not at all. Only some idle scribbling. I'd finished.' 'You are a poet?'

'Only a lunatic. I haven't taken my degree.' 'Ah! it's a noble gift—the gift of song; precious through its rarity.' I caught a note of emotion in my visitor's voice, and glanced at him curiously.

'Surely,' I thought, 'that vulgar, ruddy little face is transfigured.'

'But,' said the stranger, coming to earth, 'I am lingering beside the mark. I must try to justify my solecism in manners by a straight reference to the object of my visit. That is, in the first instance, a matter of business.'

'Business!'

'I am a man with a purpose, seeking the hopefullest means to an end. Plainly: if I could procure you the post of resident doctor at D-gaol, would you be disposed to accept it?'

I looked my utter astonishment.