"I have been thinking, Richard, that it is a long time since I saw my
father, and I have made up my mind to go down to-morrow and return in a
day or two, and you can take rooms for us in the meantime."
I fancied that this resolution, obviously the result of the vision which
had so profoundly scared him, would probably vanish next morning with
the damps and shadows of night. But I was mistaken. Off went Tom at peep
of day to the country, having agreed that so soon as I had secured
suitable lodgings, I was to recall him by letter from his visit to my
Uncle Ludlow.
Now, anxious as I was to change my quarters, it so happened, owing to a
series of petty procrastinations and accidents, that nearly a week
elapsed before my bargain was made and my letter of recall on the wing
to Tom; and, in the meantime, a trifling adventure or two had occurred
to your humble servant, which, absurd as they now appear, diminished by
distance, did certainly at the time serve to whet my appetite for change
considerably.
A night or two after the departure of my comrade, I was sitting by my
bedroom fire, the door locked, and the ingredients of a tumbler of hot
whisky-punch upon the crazy spider-table; for, as the best mode of
keeping the
Black spirits and white,
Blue spirits and grey,
with which I was environed, at bay, I had adopted the practice
recommended by the wisdom of my ancestors, and "kept my spirits up by
pouring spirits down." I had thrown aside my volume of Anatomy, and was
treating myself by way of a tonic, preparatory to my punch and bed, to
half-a-dozen pages of the _Spectator_, when I heard a step on the flight
of stairs descending from the attics. It was two o'clock, and the
streets were as silent as a churchyard--the sounds were, therefore,
perfectly distinct. There was a slow, heavy tread, characterised by the
emphasis and deliberation of age, descending by the narrow staircase
from above; and, what made the sound more singular, it was plain that
the feet which produced it were perfectly bare, measuring the descent
with something between a pound and a flop, very ugly to hear.
I knew quite well that my attendant had gone away many hours before, and
that nobody but myself had any business in the house. It was quite plain
also that the person who was coming down stairs had no intention
whatever of concealing his movements; but, on the contrary, appeared
disposed to make even more noise, and proceed more deliberately, than
was at all necessary. When the step reached the foot of the stairs
outside my room, it seemed to stop; and I expected every moment to see
my door open spontaneously, and give admission to the original of my
detested portrait. I was, however, relieved in a few seconds by hearing
the descent renewed, just in the same manner, upon the staircase leading
down to the drawing-rooms, and thence, after another pause, down the
next flight, and so on to the hall, whence I heard no more.
Now, by the time the sound had ceased, I was wound up, as they say, to a
very unpleasant pitch of excitement. I listened, but there was not a
stir. I screwed up my courage to a decisive experiment--opened my door,
and in a stentorian voice bawled over the banisters, "Who's there?"
There was no answer but the ringing of my own voice through the empty
old house,--no renewal of the movement; nothing, in short, to give my
unpleasant sensations a definite direction. There is, I think, something
most disagreeably disenchanting in the sound of one's own voice under
such circumstances, exerted in solitude, and in vain. It redoubled my
sense of isolation, and my misgivings increased on perceiving that the
door, which I certainly thought I had left open, was closed behind me;
in a vague alarm, lest my retreat should be cut off, I got again into my
room as quickly as I could, where I remained in a state of imaginary
blockade, and very uncomfortable indeed, till morning.
Next night brought no return of my barefooted fellow-lodger; but the
night following, being in my bed, and in the dark--somewhere, I suppose,
about the same hour as before, I distinctly heard the old fellow again
descending from the garrets.
This time I had had my punch, and the _morale_ of the garrison was
consequently excellent. I jumped out of bed, clutched the poker as I
passed the expiring fire, and in a moment was upon the lobby. The sound
had ceased by this time--the dark and chill were discouraging; and,
guess my horror, when I saw, or thought I saw, a black monster, whether
in the shape of a man or a bear I could not say, standing, with its back
to the wall, on the lobby, facing me, with a pair of great greenish eyes
shining dimly out. Now, I must be frank, and confess that the cupboard
which displayed our plates and cups stood just there, though at the
moment I did not recollect it. At the same time I must honestly say,
that making every allowance for an excited imagination, I never could
satisfy myself that I was made the dupe of my own fancy in this matter;
for this apparition, after one or two shiftings of shape, as if in the
act of incipient transformation, began, as it seemed on second thoughts,
to advance upon me in its original form. From an instinct of terror
rather than of courage, I hurled the poker, with all my force, at its
head; and to the music of a horrid crash made my way into my room, and
double-locked the door. Then, in a minute more, I heard the horrid bare
feet walk down the stairs, till the sound ceased in the hall, as on the
former occasion.
If the apparition of the night before was an ocular delusion of my fancy
sporting with the dark outlines of our cupboard, and if its horrid eyes
were nothing but a pair of inverted teacups, I had, at all events, the
satisfaction of having launched the poker with admirable effect, and in
true "fancy" phrase, "knocked its two daylights into one," as the
commingled fragments of my tea-service testified. I did my best to
gather comfort and courage from these evidences; but it would not do.
And then what could I say of those horrid bare feet, and the regular
tramp, tramp, tramp, which measured the distance of the entire staircase
through the solitude of my haunted dwelling, and at an hour when no good
influence was stirring? Confound it!--the whole affair was abominable. I
was out of spirits, and dreaded the approach of night.
It came, ushered ominously in with a thunder-storm and dull torrents of
depressing rain. Earlier than usual the streets grew silent; and by
twelve o'clock nothing but the comfortless pattering of the rain was to
be heard.
I made myself as snug as I could. I lighted _two_ candles instead of
one. I forswore bed, and held myself in readiness for a sally, candle in
hand; for, _coûte qui coûte_, I was resolved to _see_ the being, if
visible at all, who troubled the nightly stillness of my mansion. I was
fidgetty and nervous and tried in vain to interest myself with my books.
I walked up and down my room, whistling in turn martial and hilarious
music, and listening ever and anon for the dreaded noise. I sate down
and stared at the square label on the solemn and reserved-looking black
bottle, until "FLANAGAN & CO'S BEST OLD MALT WHISKY" grew into a sort of
subdued accompaniment to all the fantastic and horrible speculations
which chased one another through my brain.
Silence, meanwhile, grew more silent, and darkness darker. I listened in
vain for the rumble of a vehicle, or the dull clamour of a distant row.
There was nothing but the sound of a rising wind, which had succeeded
the thunder-storm that had travelled over the Dublin mountains quite out
of hearing. In the middle of this great city I began to feel myself
alone with nature, and Heaven knows what beside. My courage was ebbing.
Punch, however, which makes beasts of so many, made a man of me
again--just in time to hear with tolerable nerve and firmness the lumpy,
flabby, naked feet deliberately descending the stairs again.
I took a candle, not without a tremour. As I crossed the floor I tried
to extemporise a prayer, but stopped short to listen, and never finished
it. The steps continued. I confess I hesitated for some seconds at the
door before I took heart of grace and opened it. When I peeped out the
lobby was perfectly empty--there was no monster standing on the
staircase; and as the detested sound ceased, I was reassured enough to
venture forward nearly to the banisters. Horror of horrors! within a
stair or two beneath the spot where I stood the unearthly tread smote
the floor. My eye caught something in motion; it was about the size of
Goliah's foot--it was grey, heavy, and flapped with a dead weight from
one step to another. As I am alive, it was the most monstrous grey rat I
ever beheld or imagined.
Shakespeare says--"Some men there are cannot abide a gaping pig, and
some that are mad if they behold a cat." I went well-nigh out of my wits
when I beheld this _rat_; for, laugh at me as you may, it fixed upon me,
I thought, a perfectly human expression of malice; and, as it shuffled
about and looked up into my face almost from between my feet, I saw, I
could swear it--I felt it then, and know it now, the infernal gaze and
the accursed countenance of my old friend in the portrait, transfused
into the visage of the bloated vermin before me.
I bounced into my room again with a feeling of loathing and horror I
cannot describe, and locked and bolted my door as if a lion had been at
the other side. D--n him or _it_; curse the portrait and its original! I
felt in my soul that the rat--yes, the _rat_, the RAT I had just seen,
was that evil being in masquerade, and rambling through the house upon
some infernal night lark.
Next morning I was early trudging through the miry streets; and, among
other transactions, posted a peremptory note recalling Tom. On my
return, however, I found a note from my absent "chum," announcing his
intended return next day. I was doubly rejoiced at this, because I had
succeeded in getting rooms; and because the change of scene and return
of my comrade were rendered specially pleasant by the last night's half
ridiculous half horrible adventure.
I slept extemporaneously in my new quarters in Digges' Street that
night, and next morning returned for breakfast to the haunted mansion,
where I was certain Tom would call immediately on his arrival.
I was quite right--he came; and almost his first question referred to
the primary object of our change of residence.
"Thank God," he said with genuine fervour, on hearing that all was
arranged. "On _your_ account I am delighted. As to myself, I assure you
that no earthly consideration could have induced me ever again to pass a
night in this disastrous old house."
"Confound the house!" I ejaculated, with a genuine mixture of fear and
detestation, "we have not had a pleasant hour since we came to live
here"; and so I went on, and related incidentally my adventure with the
plethoric old rat.
"Well, if that were _all_," said my cousin, affecting to make light of
the matter, "I don't think I should have minded it very much."
"Ay, but its eye--its countenance, my dear Tom," urged I; "if you had
seen _that_, you would have felt it might be _anything_ but what it
seemed."
"I inclined to think the best conjurer in such a case would be an
able-bodied cat," he said, with a provoking chuckle.
"But let us hear your own adventure," I said tartly.
At this challenge he looked uneasily round him. I had poked up a very
unpleasant recollection.
"You shall hear it, Dick; I'll tell it to you," he said. "Begad, sir, I
should feel quite queer, though, telling it _here_, though we are too
strong a body for ghosts to meddle with just now."
Though he spoke this like a joke, I think it was serious calculation.
Our Hebe was in a corner of the room, packing our cracked delft tea and
dinner-services in a basket. She soon suspended operations, and with
mouth and eyes wide open became an absorbed listener. Tom's experiences
were told nearly in these words:----
"I saw it three times, Dick--three distinct times; and I am perfectly
certain it meant me some infernal harm. I was, I say, in danger--in
_extreme_ danger; for, if nothing else had happened, my reason would
most certainly have failed me, unless I had escaped so soon. Thank God.
I _did_ escape.
"The first night of this hateful disturbance, I was lying in the
attitude of sleep, in that lumbering old bed. I hate to think of it. I
was really wide awake, though I had put out my candle, and was lying as
quietly as if I had been asleep; and although accidentally restless, my
thoughts were running in a cheerful and agreeable channel.
"I think it must have been two o'clock at least when I thought I heard a
sound in that--that odious dark recess at the far end of the bedroom. It
was as if someone was drawing a piece of cord slowly along the floor,
lifting it up, and dropping it softly down again in coils. I sate up
once or twice in my bed, but could see nothing, so I concluded it must
be mice in the wainscot. I felt no emotion graver than curiosity, and
after a few minutes ceased to observe it.
"While lying in this state, strange to say; without at first a suspicion
of anything supernatural, on a sudden I saw an old man, rather stout and
square, in a sort of roan-red dressing-gown, and with a black cap on his
head, moving stiffly and slowly in a diagonal direction, from the
recess, across the floor of the bedroom, passing my bed at the foot, and
entering the lumber-closet at the left. He had something under his arm;
his head hung a little at one side; and, merciful God! when I saw his
face."