THE ROOM OF THE TRAP-DOOR.
If you have hitherto concealed this sight,
Let it be tenable, in your silence still;
And whatsoever else doth hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
--Shakespeare.
Capitola, meanwhile, in the care of the major, arrived at Hurricane
Hall, much to the discomfiture of good Mrs. Condiment, who was quite
unprepared to expect the new inmate; and when Major Warfield said:
"Mrs. Condiment, this is your young lady; take her up to the best
bedroom, where she can take off her bonnet and shawl," the worthy dame,
thinking secretly, "The old fool has gone and married a young wife, sure
enough; a mere chit of a child," made a very deep curtsy and a very
queer cough and said:
"I am mortified, madam, at the fire not being made in the best bedroom;
but, then, I was not warned of your coming, madam."
"Madam? Is the old woman crazed? This child is no 'madam.' She is Miss
Black, my ward, the daughter of a deceased friend," sharply exclaimed
Old Hurricane.
"Excuse me, miss; I did not know; I was unprepared to receive a young
lady. Shall I attend you, Miss Black?" said the old lady, in a mollified
tone.
"If you please," said Capitola, who arose to follow her.
"Not expecting you, miss, I have no proper room prepared; most of them
are not furnished, and in some the chimneys are foul; indeed, the only
tolerable room I can put you in is the room with the trap-door--if you
would not object to it," said Mrs. Condiment, as with a candle in her
hand she preceded Capitola along the gloomy hall and then opened a door
that led into a narrow passage.
"A room with a trap-door? That's a curious thing; but why should I
object to it? I don't at all. I think I should rather like it," said
Capitola.
"I will show it to you and tell you about it, and then if you like it,
well and good. If not, I shall have to put you in a room that leaks and
has swallows' nests in the chimney," answered Mrs. Condiment, as she led
the way along the narrow passages and up and down dark back stairs and
through bare and deserted rooms and along other passages until she
reached a remote chamber, opened the door and invited her guest to
enter.
It was a large, shadowy room, through which the single candle shed such
a faint, uncertain light that at first Capitola could see nothing but
black masses looming through the darkness.
But when Mrs. Condiment advanced and set the candle upon the
chimney-piece, and Capitola's sight accommodated itself to the scene,
she saw that upon the right of the chimney-piece stood a tall tester
bedstead, curtained with very dark crimson serge; on the left hand,
thick curtains of the same color draped the two windows. Between the
windows, directly opposite the bed, stood a dark mahogany dressing
bureau with a large looking-glass; a washstand in the left-hand corner
of the chimney-piece, and a rocking-chair and two plain chairs completed
the furniture of this room that I am particular in describing, as upon
the simple accident of its arrangement depended, upon two occasions, the
life and honor of its occupant. There was no carpet on the floor, with
the exception of a large, old Turkey rug that was laid before the
fireplace.
"Here, my dear, this room is perfectly dry and comfortable, and we
always keep kindlings built up in the fireplace ready to light in case a
guest should come," said Mrs. Condiment, applying a match to the waste
paper under the pine knots and logs that filled the chimney. Soon there
arose a cheerful blaze that lighted up all the room, glowing on the
crimson serge bed curtains and window curtains and flashing upon the
large looking-glass between them.
"There, my dear, sit down and make yourself comfortable," said Mrs.
Condiment, drawing up the rocking-chair.
Capitola threw herself into it, and looked around and around the room,
and then into the face of the old lady saying:
"But what about the trap-door? I see no trap-door."
"Ah, yes--look!" said Mrs. Condiment, lifting up the rug and revealing a
large drop, some four feet square, that was kept up in its place by a
short iron bolt.
"Now, my dear, take care of yourself, for this bolt slides very easily,
and if, while you happened to be walking across this place, you were to
push the bolt back, the trap-door would drop and you fall down--heaven
knows where!"
"Is there a cellar under there?" inquired Capitola, gazing with interest
upon the door.
"Lord knows, child; I don't. I did once make one of the nigger men let
it down so I could look in it; but, Lord, child, I saw nothing but a
great, black, deep vacuity, without bottom or sides. It put such a
horror over me that I have never looked down there since, and never want
to, I'm sure."
"Ugh! for goodness' sake what was the horrid thing made for?" ejaculated
Capitola, gazing as if fascinated by the trap.
"The Lord only knows, my dear; for it was made long before ever the
house came into the major's family. But they do say----" whispered Mrs.
Condiment, mysteriously.
"Ah! what do they say?" asked Capitola, eagerly, throwing off her bonnet
and shawl and settling herself to hear some thrilling explanation.
Mrs. Condiment slowly replaced the rug, drew another chair to the side
of the young girl and said:
"They do say it was--a trap for Indians!"
"A trap for Indians?"
"Yes, my dear. You must know that this room belongs to the oldest part
of the house. It was all built as far back as the old French and Indian
war; but this room belonged to the part that dates back to the first
settlement of the country."
"Then I shall like it better than any room in the house, for I dote on
old places with stories to them. Go on, please."
"Yes, my dear. Well, first of all, this place was a part of the grant of
land given to the Le Noirs. And the first owner, old Henri Le Noir, was
said to be one of the grandest villains that ever was heard of. Well,
you see, he lived out here in his hunting lodge, which is this part of
the house."
"Oh, my! then this very room was a part of the old pioneer hunter's
lodge?"
"Yes, my dear; and they do say that he had this place made as a trap for
the Indians! You see, they say he was on terms of friendship with the
Succapoos, a little tribe of Indians that was nearly wasted away, though
among the few that was left there were several braves. Well, he wanted
to buy a certain large tract of land from this tribe, and they were all
willing to sell it except those half a dozen warriors, who wanted it for
camping ground. So what does this awful villain do but lay a snare for
them. He makes a great feast in his lodge and invites his red brothers
to come to it; and they come. Then he proposes that they stand upon his
blanket and all swear eternal brotherhood, which he made the poor souls
believe was the right way to do it. Then when they all six stood close
together as they could stand, with hands held up touching above their
heads, all of a sudden the black villain sprung the bolt, the trap fell
and the six men went down--down, the Lord knows where!"
"Oh! that is horrible! horrible!" cried Capitola; "but where do you
think they fell to?"
"I tell you the Lord only knows! They say that it is a bottomless abyss,
with no outlet but one crooked one, miles long, that reaches to the
Demon's Punch Bowl. But if there is a bottom to that abyss, that bottom
is strewn with human bones!"
"Oh! horrible! most horrible!" exclaimed Capitola.
"Perhaps you are afraid to sleep here by yourself? If so, there's the
damp room----"
"Oh, no! oh, no! I am not afraid. I have been in too much deadly peril
from the living ever to fear the dead! No, I like the room, with its
strange legend; but tell me, did that human devil escape without
punishment from the tribe of the murdered victims?"
"Lord, child, how were they to know of what was done? There wasn't a man
left to tell the tale. Besides, the tribe was now brought down to a few
old men, women and children. So, when he showed a bill of sale for the
land he wanted, signed by the six braves--'their marks,' in six
blood-red arrows, there was none to contradict him."
"How was his villainy found out?"
"Well, it was said he married, had a family and prospered for a long
while; but that the poor Succapoos always suspected him, and bore a long
grudge, and that when the sons of the murdered warriors grew up to be
powerful braves, one night they set upon the house and massacred the
whole family except the eldest son, a lad of ten, who escaped and ran
away and gave the alarm to the block-house, where there were soldiers
stationed. It is said that after killing and scalping father, mother and
children, the savages threw the dead bodies down that trap-door. And
they had just set fire to the house and were dancing their wild dance
around it, when the soldiers arrived and dispersed the party and put out
the fire."
"Oh, what bloody, bloody days!"
"Yes, my dear, and as I told you before, if that horrible pit has any
bottom, that bottom is strewn with human skeletons!"
"It is an awful thought----"
"As I said, my dear, if you feel at all afraid you can have another
room."
"Afraid! What of? Those skeletons, supposing them to be there, cannot
hurt me! I am not afraid of the dead! I only dread the living, and not
them much, either!" said Capitola.
"Well, my dear, you will want a waiting-woman, anyhow; and I think I
will send Pitapat to wait on you; she can sleep on a pallet in your
room, and be some company."
"And who is Pitapat, Mrs. Condiment?"
"Pitapat? Lord, child, she is the youngest of the housemaids. I've
called her Pitapat ever since she was a little one beginning to walk,
when she used to steal away from her mother, Dorcas, the cook, and I
would hear her little feet coming pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, up the dark
stairs up to my room. As it was often the only sound to be heard in the
still house, I grew to call my little visitor Pitapat."
"Then let me have Pitapat by all means. I like company, especially
company that I can send away when I choose."
"Very well, my dear; and now I think you'd better smooth your hair and
come down with me to tea, for it is full time, and the major, as you may
know, is not the most patient of men."
Capitola took a brush from her traveling-bag, hastily arranged her black
ringlets and announced herself ready.
They left the room and traversed the same labyrinth of passages, stairs,
empty rooms and halls back to the dining-room, where a comfortable fire
burned and a substantial supper was spread.
Old Hurricane took Capitola's hand with a hearty grasp, and placed her
in a chair at the side, and then took his own seat at the foot of the
table.
Mrs. Condiment sat at the head and poured out the tea.
"Uncle," said Capitola, suddenly, "what is under the trap-door in my
room?"
"What! Have they put you in that room?" exclaimed the old man, hastily
looking up.
"There was no other one prepared, sir," said the housekeeper.
"Besides, I like it very well, uncle," said Capitola.
"Humph! humph! humph!" grunted the old man, only half satisfied.
"But, uncle, what is under the trap-door?" persisted Capitola; "what's
under it?"
"Oh, I don't know--an old cave that was once used as a dry cellar until
an underground stream broke through and made it too damp, so it is said.
I never explored it."
"But, uncle, what about the----"
Here Mrs. Condiment stretched out her foot and trod upon the toes of
Capitola so sharply that it made her stop short, while she dexterously
changed the conversation by asking the major if he would not send Wool
to Tip-Top in the morning for another bag of coffee.
Soon after supper was over Capitola, saying that she was tired, bade her
uncle good night, and, attended by her little black maid Pitapat, whom
Mrs. Condiment had called up for the purpose, retired to her distant
chamber. There were already collected here three trunks, which the
liberality of her uncle had filled.
As soon as she had got in and locked the door she detached one of the
strongest straps from her largest trunk and then turned up the rug and
secured the end of the strap to the ring in the trap-door. Then she
withdrew the bolt, and, holding on to one end of the strap, gently
lowered the trap, and, kneeling, gazed down into an awful black
void--without boundaries, without sight, without sounds, except a deep,
faint, subterranean roaring as of water.
"Bring the light, Pitapat, and hold it over this place, and take care
you don't fall in," said Capitola. "Come, as I've got a 'pit' in my name
and you've got a 'pit' in yours, we'll see if we can't make something of
this third 'pit.'"
"Deed, I'se 'fraid, Miss," said the poor little darkey.
"Afraid! What of?"
"Ghoses."
"Nonsense. I'll agree to lay every ghost you see!"
The little maid approached, candle in hand, but in such a gingerly sort
of way, that Capitola seized the light from her hand, and, stooping,
held it down as far as she could reach and gazed once more into the
abyss. But this only made the horrible darkness "visible;" no object
caught or reflected a single ray of light; all was black, hollow, void
and silent except the faint, deep, distant, roaring as of subterraneous
water!
Capitola pushed the light as far down as she could possibly reach, and
then, yielding to a strange fascination, dropped it into the abyss! It
went down, down, down, down into the darkness, until far below it
glimmered out of sight. Then with an awful shudder Capitola pulled up
and fastened the trap-door, laid down the rug and said her prayers and
went to bed by the firelight, with little Pitapat sleeping on a pallet.
The last thought of Cap, before falling to sleep, was:
"It is awful to go to bed over such a horrible mystery; but I will be a
hero!"