THE HAUNTED ROOM
"There is a letter for you, Miss Edith," said Nurse as the girls came
in from school, the next Saturday. "It is for Miss Frances, too."
"For us both?" exclaimed Frances. "Where from?"
"Pierre brought it from the Manor," replied Nurse.
"I can't get over there being no telephones in the houses here,"
remarked Frances, snatching off her hat. "Imagine having to send a man
with a note instead of just taking down a receiver and talking. Not to
have telephones is so very English."
"The English don't hold much with new inventions, Miss," Nurse agreed.
"What was good enough for those before us does us very well."
"I know it!" sighed Fran, "but think of the _convenience_ of a
telephone."
Edith was holding a dainty square note bearing the inscription:
"Miss Edith Pearce,
Miss Thayne,
Rose Villa.
À la main de Pierre."
"From Miss Connie, of course," said Edith delightedly. Each took a
corner of the enclosed card and with several little squeals of amused
pleasure, Frances read it aloud.
"Miss Lisle presents her compliments to Miss Pearce and Miss
Thayne and requests them to grant her the favor of attending
a meeting of the Society for the Suppression of Ghosts to be
held in the haunted room of Laurel Manor this evening at ten.
Notes:
Dinner 7:30.
Beds provided at 9:45 (Ghost _not_ guaranteed to appear).
Very best nighties because of looking pretty for spooks.
Breakfast any old hour."
Screaming with delight, Edith ran to find Estelle, Frances for her
mother.
"But I don't know that I want you to sleep in a room that has the
reputation of being haunted, Edith," protested Estelle. "Will Mrs.
Thayne permit Frances to go?"
"Oh, Sister, there's some joke about it," pleaded Edith. "There must
be, because Miss Connie always laughs whenever the ghost is mentioned.
And would her father let her sleep in that room if it was anything to
frighten people? Oh, Star, it will be such fun!"
Up-stairs, Frances was besieging her amused mother. Two minutes later,
the girls met in the hall, dancing with glee, for each might go were
the other permitted.
"Dinner at the Manor, too!" sighed Frances. "What bliss!"
Neither Estelle nor Mrs. Thayne had much peace from then until it was
time to start. Finally the hour arrived and the family assembled in the
hall to see them off, Win interested and Roger openly envious. "I'd
like a chance at that ghost just once," he vowed. "I'd settle him."
"Perhaps later, Miss Connie will invite you boys," said Edith. "Why,
here's Pierre. Oh, he's come for our bags."
To have a servant sent for their light luggage again struck Frances as
most charmingly English, and two very happy girls waved farewell to
Rose Villa as they turned out of the terrace.
In the great hall of the Manor, Constance greeted them, ceremoniously
enough, but with mysterious smiles and twinkles. In person she
conducted them to a pretty guest-room near her own apartments.
"We won't invade the ghost's domain until time for bed," she announced
gayly. "You'll find a bath adjoining and would you like Paget to do
your hair or fasten your dinner frocks?"
"We will help each other," said Edith, as full of twinkles as Connie
herself.
"Then I will dress and come for you in about half an hour."
"Isn't Miss Connie the dearest thing!" said Edith enthusiastically as
the door closed. "I never saw anybody just like her before."
"Mother thinks her charming," replied Frances, brushing her curly hair.
"Edith, do you suppose we shall ever know the truth about that story of
the Italian prince?"
"It doesn't seem as though it were true," observed Edith. "Or at least,
as though she cared very much if she had to break her engagement, for
she is always so gay and happy."
The face that was looking just then from the mirror in Connie's room
did not precisely correspond to these adjectives, but the young
mistress of the Manor was the daughter of a brave soldier and the
descendant of a long line of gallant gentlemen. Those slow weeks since
Christmas that Constance crowded with gayety were bringing gradual
healing. The heart under the fluffy frock she slipped on to-night was
not so heavy as the one under the white gown worn that day when she
stood by Win in the Manor library and watched the boat for St. Malo
leave the harbor.
Frances and Edith were ready when she came for them, also prettily
dressed in white.
"Nice little English flappers," Constance remarked approvingly. "Why,
what is the matter with Frances?"
"I don't know what a flapper is," confessed Frances, sure however, that
it could be nothing very dreadful.
Constance laughed and patted the brown cheek. "Merely a jolly little
English school girl with her hair down her back. Yours is tidily
braided but Edith looks the typical flapper."
She took a hand of each and three abreast they went down to the hall
where Colonel Lisle was standing in a soldierly attitude before the
fire. He greeted them with charming courtesy, offered Fran his arm and
conducted her to the dining-room.
Both girls were supremely happy, Edith quietly so, Frances fairly
radiating enjoyment in the stately room with its fine old portraits and
windows open to admit the sweet odors of myrtle and daffodils.
"Don't think the Island winters are all as mild as this," the Colonel
was saying as Yvonne removed the soup plates. "I have seen both snow
and hail in Jersey and sometimes we have extremely cold weather. But
you were asking, Frances, why French is the official language here. The
Channel Islands came to the English crown with William the Conqueror,
and have always remained one of the crown properties. So while the
islanders are English they have French blood in their veins and each
island has retained its peculiar historic customs, the official use of
French being one. When Normandy was regained by France, the islands
remained with England and though Jersey was frequently attacked and
sometimes invaded by the French they never held more than a portion of
it temporarily. Indeed, so much was a Norman or French invasion feared,
that the islanders inserted in the Litany an additional petition: 'From
the fury of the Normans, good Lord, deliver us!'"
"We have seen the tablet in the Royal Square, marking the spot where
Major Pierson fell in the battle of Jersey," said Edith, who shared
Win's liking for history.
"Ah, in 1781. That was the last French invasion. Speaking of the Royal
Square," the Colonel went on, "there is a curious custom connected with
the Royal Court there, that might interest you. Any person with a
grievance relating to property has a right to come into a session of
the court and call aloud upon Rollo the Dane. The Cohue Royale,--the
Court,--_must_ listen and _must_ heed. That is a very ancient relic of
Norman rule in the Island. Oh, no, it is seldom resorted to. One does
not lightly call Prince Rollo to one's aid. That is the final appeal
when all other justice fails."
Yvonne, who was waiting upon the table, reappeared from a brief absence
with a beaming face.
"It is Monsieur Max who arrives," she said confidentially to Constance.
"Max!" exclaimed Connie. "Why, how nice! Sha'n't he come directly, Dad?
Tell him not to dress, Yvonne."
"By all means, tell him to come as he is," said the Colonel, his face
lighting with pleasure at this news.
"Pardon, m'sieur," said Yvonne. "Monsieur Max already hastens to his
room and says the dinner shall not delay, that he shall be fast,--ver'
queeck."
"Max can be fast," said Constance smiling. "Well, we will dawdle over
our fish. I never thought of his coming," she went on, watching Yvonne
as she deftly laid another place beside Frances. "This must be one of
the week-ends he promised. I wonder why he didn't warn us?"
"I suppose there was no time to do so," said the Colonel. "Max knows he
is welcome at any hour."
Max was "queeck." The fish was only just finished when he came quietly
into the room, dressed for dinner and looking not in the least as
though he had recently stepped from a steamer. Edith and Frances
watched eagerly. If they were still in deep ignorance concerning Miss
Connie's Italian prince, this was surely their chance to discover how
matters stood between their adored little lady and Mr. Max.
Disappointment awaited them, for nothing could have been more
commonplace than the greeting exchanged. Even the fancy of fourteen
years could not construe Constance's "Hello, old boy!" and Max's
nonchalantly offered hand into the slightest foundation for a romance.
So far as outward appearances went Max was much more affectionate
towards the Colonel, who did not disguise his marked pleasure at seeing
him.
With gay words for both girls, the newcomer slid into his seat. "I'm as
hungry as a hunter, Connie," he announced. "Soup, Yvonne? Anything and
everything that's going. Oh, it was rather a rough crossing, but it
merely gave me an appetite. Where are the boys? Couldn't they come to
this exclusive dinner? Or am I butting in myself?"
"You are," replied Constance mischievously, "but for Dad's sake, we
will forgive you. The boys are not here for the simple reason that they
were not invited. Having fortified ourselves with strong meat, the
girls and I are going to brave the Manor ghost to-night."
Darkness had fallen and with it a sense of the eerie over Fran. She was
distinctly relieved to hear Max laugh at this announcement.
"Do you really want to see the ghost?" he asked, turning to her.
"Crazy to," was Fran's prompt reply. "I wouldn't dare stay alone in
that room, but with Miss Connie and Edith, I sha'n't be afraid. Indeed,
I want dreadfully to see the ghost."
"You know yourself, Max, that it doesn't materialize every time it is
invoked," began Constance.
"I know it," said Max. "I only wanted to ascertain how keen the
spook-hunters are. I slept in that room once for two weeks when the
house was full and became much attached to his ghost-ship."
"So I told the girls," replied Constance with equal gravity.
Edith and Frances were looking at each other in puzzled bewilderment
but Max suddenly changed the subject. His eye had fallen upon Grayfur,
the big cat that had purred himself into the room in the shelter of
Yvonne's skirts.
"Hello, old chap!" he said, snapping his fingers. "Do you like cats,
Frances?"
"No," confessed Frances. "I love dogs. Edith is the one who likes
pussies. She is always bringing stray kittens home."
For some reason this statement seemed to amuse Max. To the surprise of
the girls, he and Constance exchanged a smile.
Ten o'clock struck before Edith and Frances found themselves, after a
happy evening, again in the pretty guest-room.
"Miss Connie, I am afraid you weren't ready to come up," said
thoughtful Edith. "Didn't you want to stop longer with your father and
Mr. Max?"
"Max doesn't leave until Tuesday morning," Constance replied. "Dad will
love to have him all to himself for a good talk and smoke, and if Max
has anything especial to say to me, there will be plenty of
opportunities. I'm quite glad to come up."
When she came for them, the girls were ready and the little procession
started, three kimonoed figures each bearing a lighted candle along the
echoing halls to the haunted room above the library. Electricity had
not trailed its illuminating coils above the first floor of the house
so the big apartment looked spooky and shadowy enough, the candles
placed on the mantel, quite lost in immense distances. Three white cots
stood side by side in its centre.
"First, we will fasten the door securely," said Constance, suiting the
action to the word. "Then we will take this electric torch and look
about a bit."
Careful inspection showed the room undoubtedly tenantless, the handsome
old-fashioned furniture offering no hiding-place for any intruder. Like
the library below, its walls were of paneled oak, with three large
portraits set into the wood-work. One, a Lisle of Queen Elizabeth's
time, looked down benignly, attired in doublet and ruff.
"Miss Connie, how shall we know what to look for or expect?" asked
Frances when the three were settled in their beds, lights out and the
room illuminated only by the moon.
"It wouldn't be wise to tell you," said Constance mysteriously. "All
I'll say is that it is nothing at all disturbing or frightful. The few
people who have seen or heard anything never knew at the time that it
was a ghost."
"But you will tell us in the morning?" asked Edith.
"Yes," replied their hostess. "I will tell you then, whether you see
anything or not, and very likely you will not. But if you want to have
the creeps and would truly enjoy them, I'll tell you something that
really happened to me once in Italy."
"Oh, do, do!" begged both girls in unison. "That would be simply
perfect," added Edith, sitting up in bed, her fair hair floating about
her shoulders and turning her more than ever into the likeness of an
angel.
"Some years ago, when I was about your age," began Constance slowly,
"Dad and Mother and I were traveling in southern Italy, and Max was
with us. He was with us a great deal, you know. We stopped one night at
an old hotel that had once been a monastery, though it was different
from the usual monasteries because it was a place where sick monks came
to be cured and to rest.
"The location was wonderful, on a cliff overlooking the sea and though
the place had been altered for the purposes of a hotel, it was still a
good bit churchly. The partitions between the cells had been knocked
out and additions built, but the hotel dining-room was the old
refectory with stone walls and floor, and the wonderful garden was much
as the monks left it. Such roses you never saw and such climbing vines
and flowering trees. Oh, there's no place like Italy!"
Constance stopped. The moonlight falling across her bed touched her
face into almost unearthly beauty.
"We had connecting rooms that night," she went on. "Dad and Mother took
the corner one with two beds. Next was a tiny room where I was to sleep
and Max's was beyond mine. All were originally cells opening on a
terrace, covered with roses and passion-flowers and looking down to the
sea, which was shining with little silver ripples.
"We'd had an especially happy day and I was so keyed up with enjoyment
that I couldn't go to sleep right away, but lay looking out at the
flowers and the waves. Mother went through to see that Max was all
right and then came back to kiss me. She closed the door into his room,
but left open the one from mine into hers.
"I remember hearing Mother and Dad laugh a little about something and I
suppose I went to sleep, because I woke very suddenly with a start, all
awake in a minute."
Connie paused, this being the proper moment for a thrill. "What do you
think I saw?" she asked impressively.
"Oh, I can't imagine!" gasped Frances, shivering in delighted
anticipation. "Do go on!"
"Have you chills down your spine!" laughed Constance. "In the moonlight
right beside my bed, I saw a monk, dressed in white, the usual robe of
the Dominicans. He had a wise, kind face, with a pleasant expression,
and as I looked at him, he took my wrist very gently, and put his
finger on my pulse."
"Oh-h!" said Edith, pulling the covers about her more tightly. "Oh,
Miss Connie, what did you do?"
"That frightened me," said Connie. "Up to that time, I noticed only his
pleasant, gentle look, but it seemed as though a bit of ice touched me
and I gave a scream that brought Mother and Dad up standing. Of course,
when they came hurrying in, nobody was visible. I made a big fuss,
presumably because I wanted to be petted and coddled.
"I told them about the monk and Dad at once thought that Max had been
playing a joke on me. He stepped into Max's room, intending to be
severe, but Max was sound asleep and besides, the door into his room
squeaked so that he couldn't possibly have opened it without waking us
all.
"Then they said I had the nightmare. Perhaps I did," said Constance
with a smile, "but I can see yet the kindly face of that old monk. I
didn't want to stay in my room, so Dad told me to go in with Mother and
he'd take my bed. We all settled ourselves again.
"I was asleep or nearly so, feeling so comfy and safe in my bed close
to Mother's when suddenly she sat up straight and said 'Richard!' in
such an odd, startled tone. I woke and heard poor Dad piling out of bed
again to come into our room. Mother sat there looking very troubled and
holding one wrist in the other hand. She didn't say anything
more,--neither of them did,--but I knew perfectly well that the old
monk had been feeling her pulse."
"And what happened in the morning?" demanded Frances breathlessly.
"Nothing at all," said Constance cheerfully. "In the morning everything
was beautiful and lovely as in no other country but Italy. Mother and I
merely agreed that we had an odd dream. We did not stay a second night,
for we were on our way back to Rome."
"Did you ever hear anything more about the monk?" asked Edith.
"Years after," said Connie dreamily, "we met some Americans in
Switzerland who told us of a similar experience in this hotel. Later, I
learned that Dad found out at the time that the place was reputed to be
haunted by an old monk physician who turns up at intervals and feels
people's pulses, and is often seen pottering about the garden in broad
daylight. Monks are such a common sight in Italy that the hotel guests
stop and converse with him, thinking him a gardener and never
suspecting that he is a ghost."
"But the Manor ghost isn't like that?" asked Edith, who wanted
reassurance.
"Not a bit," said Constance. "As for that, there was nothing so very
frightful or repellent about the monk. Don't you think we should go to
sleep now and give his spookship his innings?"
The girls agreed and silence fell over the big room with its three
white beds. Outside the open casements a vine waved within Fran's line
of vision, tapping gently against a window pane.
Presently a slight sound caught Fran's wakeful ear, as of steps on a
somewhat unfamiliar stair where it was necessary to grope one's way.
Touching Edith's shoulder, she sat up in bed. They had entered the
haunted room by a door now locked, opening on a big stone staircase;
these steps seemed upon muffled wood.
Next moment there came a sudden convulsive sneeze that sounded in her
very ear. Frances gasped but Constance sat up laughing.
"No fair!" she exclaimed.
For a second there was absolute silence, then somebody laughed,
extremely close at hand, though yet behind a partition. The laugh was
followed by the soft sound of retreating footsteps.
"What happened, Miss Connie?" begged Edith.
"No ghost," said their hostess merrily. "I had forgotten. That was
clever of Max."
Silence again followed for a period, succeeded by the sound of music in
the garden below the windows, soft and very sweet.
"Oh, is _that_ the ghost?" demanded Frances in great excitement.
"Your mother will bless me for letting you stop awake all night," said
Constance. She sat up, wrapped a white robe about her and stuck her
feet into slippers. Upon the music came the sudden unearthly miaow of a
cat.
The noise sounded directly in the room and all three girls jumped.
Constance laughed again.
"I might have known Max did not come into that passage for nothing,"
she sighed. "Where's that electric torch?"
Having turned on the flash-light, Connie approached the large oil
painting set into one side of the gloomy room, its base about a foot
above the floor. She touched a knob on its frame and the portrait
became a door opening outward and revealing a narrow, dusty winding
stair descending to the floor below. On its top step sat the big cat,
just opening its mouth for another howl.
"Come in, Grayfur," said Constance. "Max brought you, didn't he? If he
hadn't sneezed and given himself away, he'd have opened the door a
crack and let you in."
"Is it a secret stair?" asked Frances, her eyes big with excitement.
"Where does it go? Wouldn't Roger be crazy over it?"
"We will let him go up it," answered Connie, swinging the portrait into
place again. "The passage comes out below in the library. Max thought
he would provide one ghost anyway."
Putting the cat into the hall, she locked the door again and then stuck
her pretty head from the window.
"Max," she said severely, addressing the unseen musician, "you are
spoiling your fiddle and breaking your promise. You said you wouldn't
be silly. Go to bed now like a good boy."
The fiddle responded with two ear-splitting squawks.
"Stop it!" commanded Constance. "There goes a string and it serves you
quite right. You'll have the bobbies coming to investigate if you don't
leave off."
The unappreciated serenader appeared squelched by this threat, for
complete silence followed.
"Nothing more is at all likely to happen tonight," said Constance,
coming back to bed. "And I hope Max will go properly to his room. Now
go to sleep, girlies, and in the morning, I'll tell you how the Manor
ghost disports itself."