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Storyteller's Cabin |
This ill-fated house was large, solemn-looking, and gloomy. A heavy portico frowned down on neighboring barefaced hall-doors. The elderly caretaker was prudently awaiting us outside with a key, which said key he turned in the lock, and admitted us into a great echoing hall, black as night, saying as he did so: "My missus has made the bed, and stoked up a good fire in the first front, Sir. Your things is all laid out, and I hope you'll have a comfortable night, Sir."
"No, Sir! Thank you, Sir! Excuse me, I'll not come in! Goodnight!" and with the words still on his lips, he clattered down the steps with most indecent haste, and vanished.
"And of course you will not come in either?" said John. "It is not in the bond, and I prefer to face them alone!" and he laughed contemptuously, a laugh that had a curious echo, it struck me at the time. A laugh strangely repeated, with an unpleasant mocking emphasis. 'Call for me, alive or dead, at eight o'clock to-morrow morning!' he added, pushing me forcibly out into the porch, and closing the door with a heavy, reverberating clang, that sounded half-way down the street.
I did call for him the next morning as desired, with the caretaker, who stared at John's commonplace, self-possessed appearance, with an expression of respectful astonishment.
"So it was all humbug, of course," I said, as he took my arm, and we set off for our club.
"You shall have the whole story whenever we have had something to eat," he replied somewhat impatiently. "It will keep till after breakfast- I'm famishing!"
I remarked that he looked unusually grave as we chatted over our broiled fish and omelet, and that occasionally his attention seemed wandering, to say the least. The moment he had brought out his cigar case and lit up he turned to me and said:
"I see you are just quivering to know my experience, and I won't keep you in suspense any longer. In four words- I have seen them!"
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