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Storyteller's Cabin |
I believe I had best endeavor to give the narrative without comment, and in John Hollyoak's own way. This is, as well as I can recollect, his experience word for word:
"I proceeded upstairs, after I had shut you out, lighting my way by a match, and found the front room easily, as the door was ajar, and it was lit up by a roaring and most cheerful-looking fire, and two wax candles. It was a comfortable apartment, furnished with old-fashioned chairs and tables, and the traditional four-poster bed. There were numerous doors, which proved to be cupboards; and when I had executed a rigorous search in each of these closets and locked them, and investigated the bed above and beneath, sounded the walls, and bolted the door, I sat down before the fire, lit a cigar, opened a book, and felt that I was going to be master of the situation, and most thoroughly and comfortably 'at home.' My novel proved absorbing. I read on greedily, chapter after chapter, and so interested was I, and amused-for it was a lively book-that I positively lost sight of my whereabouts, and fancied myself reading in my own chamber! There was not a sound. The coals dropping from the grate occasionally broke the silence, till a neighboring church-clock slowly boomed twelve! 'The hour!' I said to myself, with a laugh, as I gave the fire a rousing poke, and commenced a new chapter; but ere I had read three pages I had occasion to pause and listen. What was that distinct sound now coming nearer and nearer? 'Rats, of course,' said Common-sense-'it was just the house for vermin.' Then a longish silence. Again a stir, sounds approaching, as if apparently caused by many feet passing down the corridor - high-heeled shoes, the sweeping switch of silken trains! Of course it was all imagination, I assured myself-or rats! Rats were capable of making such curious improbable noises!
"Then another silence. No sound but cinders and the ticking of my watch, which I had laid upon the table.
"I resumed my book, rather ashamed, and a little indignant with myself for having neglected it, and calmly dismissed my late interruption as 'rats-nothing but rats.'
"I had been reading and smoking for some time in a placid and highly incredulous frame of mind, when I was somewhat rudely startled by a loud single knock at my room door. I took no notice of it, but merely laid down my novel and sat tight. Another knock more imperious this time- After a moment's mental deliberation I arose, armed myself with the poker, prepared to brain any number of rats, and threw the door open with a violent swing that strained its very hinges, and beheld, to my amazement, a tall powdered footman in a laced scarlet uniform, who, making a formal inclination of his head, astonished me still further by saying:
" 'Dinner is ready!' "
" 'I'm not coming!' " I replied, without a moment's hesitation, and thereupon I slammed the door in his face, locked it, and resumed my seat, also my book; but reading was a farce; my ears were aching for the next sound.
"It came soon-rapid steps running up the stairs, and again a single knock. I went over to the door, and once more discovered the tall butler, who repeated, with a studied courtesy:
" 'Dinner is ready, and the company are waiting.' "
" 'I told you I was not coming. Be off, and be hanged!' I cried again, shutting the door violently.
"This time I did not make even a pretence at reading. I merely sat and waited for the next move.
"I had not long to sit. In ten minutes I heard a third loud summons. I rose, went to the door, and tore it open. There, as I expected, was the servant again, with his parrot speech:
" 'Dinner is ready, the company are waiting, and the master says you must come!'
" 'All right, then, I'll come,' I replied, wearied by reason of his importunity, and feeling suddenly fired with a desire to see the end of the adventure.
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