THE ROOM WITH THE TASSELS
by
CAROLYN WELLS
Author of "The Bride of a Moment,"
"Faulkner's Folly," etc.
New York
George H. Doran Company
Copyright, 1918,
By George H. Doran Company
Printed in the United States of America
WITH LOVE AND HOMAGE
_This Book is Dedicated_
TO
HATTIE BELLE JOHNSTON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Wanted: A Haunted House 11
II. The Old Montgomery Place 26
III. Black Aspens 41
IV. The Story of the House 56
V. Eve's Experience 71
VI. At Four O'clock 86
VII. The Mystery 101
VIII. By What Means 117
IX. Conflicting Theories 131
X. Was It Supernatural? 146
XI. The Heir Speaks Out 161
XII. The Professor's Experience 176
XIII. Pennington Wise 192
XIV. Zizi 207
XV. Tracy's Story 222
XVI. What Happened to Zizi 237
XVII. Stebbins Owns Up 252
XVIII. Another Confession 267
THE ROOM
WITH THE TASSELS
CHAPTER I
Wanted: A Haunted House
"But I _know_ it's so,--for Mrs. Fairbanks saw it herself,--and heard it,
too!"
The air of finality in the gaze levelled at Braye defied contradiction,
so he merely smiled at the girl who was doing the talking. But, talking
or silent, Eve Carnforth was well worth smiling at. Her red hair
was of that thin, silky, flat-lying sort, that spells temper, but
looks lovely, and her white, delicate skin,--perhaps the least bit
hand-painted,--showed temperament while her eyes, of the colour called
beryl,--whatever that is,--showed all sorts of things.
Then from her canna-hued lips fell more wisdom. "And Professor Hardwick
believes it, too, and he's----"
"A college professor," broke in Landon, "don't try to gild _his_
refinement! But really, Eve, you mustn't believe in spooks,--it isn't
done----"
"Oh, but it is! You've no idea how many people,--scientific and talented
people,--are leaning toward spiritualism just now. Why, Sir Oliver Lodge
says that after the war great and powerful assistance will be given by
spirit helpers in matters of reconstruction and great problems of
science."
Milly Landon's laugh rang out, and she politely clapped a little, fat
hand over her mouth to stifle it.
Milly Landon was an inveterate giggler, but don't let that prejudice you
against her. She was the nicest, dearest dumpling of a little woman who
ever giggled her way through life. And as hostess on this present Sunday
afternoon occasion, she sat, one foot tucked under her, on the davenport
in her long, narrow parlour, on one of New York's East Seventieth
streets.
It was a parlour like thousands of others in the city, and the quartette
of people talking there were much like the people talking in those other
parlours, that Sunday afternoon. Their only superiority lay in the fact
that they constitute part of the personnel of this absorbing tale, and
the other people do not.
Milly and her very satisfactory husband, Wynne Landon, were affably
entertaining Rudolph Braye and the herein-before described Eve Carnforth,
two pleasing callers, and the talk had turned on psychological matters
and then, by inevitable stages, to the supernatural and spiritualism.
"It is all coming in again," Eve declared, earnestly. "You know it was
taken very seriously about thirty or forty years ago, and then because of
fake mediums and fraudulent séances, it fell into disrepute. But now,
it's being taken up in earnest, and I, for one, am terribly interested."
"But it's so old-fashioned, Eve," and Milly looked at her guest in
disdain.
"It's gammon and spinach, that's what it is," declared Landon, "very
rubbishy gammon and a poor quality of spinach!"
"Queen Victoria didn't think so," Eve informed them. "She may have been
old-fashioned, but she believed thoroughly in the spiritual reappearance
of her friends who died, and especially took comfort in the communion and
visitation of her dead husband."
"It's this way, I think," offered Braye; "it seems to me it's like that
old 'Lady or the Tiger' story, you believe or not, according to your
character or disposition. You know, it depended on your own nature,
whether you think the Lady came out of the door, or the Tiger. And so
with spooks, if you want to believe in them, you do."
"Don't say spooks, please," begged Eve; "say phantasms, or even ghosts."
"Is that the usage in the best mediumistic circles?" and Braye smiled.
"Well, I think I could more easily believe in a spook than a phantasm.
The latter sounds so unreal, but a good honest Injun spook seems sort of
plausible."
"They're all unreal," began Landon, but Eve interrupted. "They're not
unreal, Wynne; they're immaterial, of course, but that isn't being
unreal. You have a real soul, haven't you, although it is immaterial? and
I suppose you don't call your mind material, even if your brain is."
"Now you're quibbling, Eve," and Landon grew a bit more serious. "When I
say unreal, I mean imperceptible to the senses. I hold that a departed
spirit cannot return to earth and be seen, heard, or felt by mortal human
beings. All the stories of such things to the contrary notwithstanding.
If you or any one else has power to show me a visible spook,--I beg
pardon, phantasm,--I'll be glad to see it, but I'm from Missouri. I
wouldn't be a bit afraid of it, but I'd have to be jolly well convinced
of its integrity. No faked-up spectres would go down with me!"
"But how can you know?" asked Milly. "I'd be scared to death of one, I'm
sure, but if Wynne wants to see one, I do. Let's all go to a séance, or
whatever they call the things. Shall us?"
"No, indeed!" cried Eve. "Professional séances are always fakes. And I
don't aspire to _see_ one. If we could get some messages from the beyond,
that would satisfy me."
"Get messages how?" asked Braye.
"Oh, by a Ouija board, or some such way."
"Ouija!" derided Landon; "that's the biggest fraud of all!"
"Only in the hands of frauds. If we tried it here by ourselves and if we
all trusted each other not to stoop to deception of any sort that would
be a fair test."
"I'd like that," and Milly giggled in pleased anticipation. "That
wouldn't frighten me, and I'd promise to play fair."
"There'd be no reason for not playing fair," said Eve, seriously. "We're
not a pack of silly children who want to trick one another. If we could
get together some evening and have an earnest, serious test, I'd agree.
But not if there's to be the least suspicion of anybody trying trickery."
At this point two more callers arrived, and Milly jumped up to greet
them.
"Mr. Bruce!" she exclaimed, "how nice to see you! And Vernie,--my
goodness, how you've grown!"
"Indeed, yes," and Vernie Reid, a most lively and energetic sub-deb of
sixteen, darted from one to another, greeting all with interest.
"Hello, Cousin Rudolph, what are _you_ doing here? Mooning after Miss
Carnforth, I s'pose. Dear Mrs. Landon, let me sit here by you. I want to
show you my graduating gifts."
"Oh, yes, you've just had commencement, haven't you?"
"Yes, and Uncle Gifford gave me this heavenly wrist-watch, and my
respected Cousin Rudolph, over there, sent me this pendant. Isn't it
stunning? Oh, I had beautiful presents. I'd like to graduate every year!"
"Aren't you going to school any more at all?"
"Dunno yet. Uncle Gifford says I am, I say I'm not. It remains to be
seen. Though I don't mind confiding to you that I usually get my own way.
And, too, out in Chicago, you know, we're not such terrible highbrows.
Something tells me my schooldays are over. I think Uncle Gif needs the
pleasure of my society at home. And, too, I want to get acquainted with
Cousin Rudolph. Until this week I haven't seen him for years."
"He isn't your cousin, Vernie."
"Same as. He's a son of Uncle Gif's half-brother, and I'm a daughter of
Uncle's own sister, so it sort of evens up. Anyway, I like Cousin
Rudolph, because he's such a good-looking young man, and he's promised to
take me round New York some. That's why I'm so jealous of Miss Carnforth
or any other girl."
Vernie was so pretty that her chatter amused the whole crowd. She was
brown-haired and brown-eyed, and somewhat of a browned complexion, by
reason of much tennis and outdoor life at the school from which she had
just been graduated. And after a summer spent among the Eastern resorts,
she and her Uncle were to return to their Chicago home, where they had
lived all of Vernie's orphaned life. Gifford Bruce idolized the girl and
though often short and crabbed in his manner to others, he was never
cross or stern to his dead sister's child.
"What were you talking about when we came in?" Vernie asked, smiling at
Milly. "You were all so in earnest, it must have been something
important."
"Of ghosts," answered Braye, looking at the pretty child. "Do you enjoy
them?"
"Oh, don't I!" cried Vernie. "Why, at school we just ate 'em up! Table
tippings and all such things, as soon as lights were out!"
"We don't mean that sort," said Eve. "We were talking seriously."
"Count me out, then," laughed Vernie. "Our ghosts weren't a bit real. I
did most of 'em myself, jogging the table, when the others didn't know
it!"
Eve's scarlet lips came together in a narrow line, but the others laughed
at Vernie as she babbled on.
"Yes, and we tried the Ouija board. I can make it say anything I want
to."
"Good for you, Kiddie," cried Braye, "I believe I like your notion of
these things better than the ideas of the psychologists. It sounds a lot
more fun!"
"And comes nearer the truth," declared Mr. Bruce. "I've looked up these
matters and I've read all the best and most authoritative books on the
subjects. There are many writers more diffuse and circumstantial, but
Andrew Lang sums up the whole situation in his able way. He says there
are no ghosts, but there are hallucinations. And that explains all."
"It doesn't to me," and Eve's beryl eyes took on a mystic, faraway look.
"I, too, have read a lot of books----"
"Scientific or psychic?" interrupted Mr. Bruce, acidly.
"Psychical and Theosophic----"
"Rubbish! The Theosophic bunch have been in the discard for years."
"That's what I say," put in Milly, "the whole business is old-fashioned."
"It isn't a question of fashion," and Gifford Bruce spoke assuredly; "the
subject is one that recurs in waves, as many such things do. Why, there
have been ghosts and haunted houses in people's imagination ever since
there has been man and a house for him to live in. Some are spoken of in
the Bible, the primitive Australians had legions of ghosts, the awful
Dyaks record them, and there is scarce a castle or palace of the middle
ages that hasn't its Woman in White, or a Little Gray Lady or the Man in
Black. And in an old Egyptian papyrus, there's an account of a defunct
lady who insisted on haunting her husband to his great distaste."
"My goodness, Uncle Gif, you do know a lot about it!" and Vernie went
over and sat on the arm of his chair. "Tell us more. I like this sort of
ghost stories better than the fool stunts we did at school."
"I'm not telling ghost stories, child, I'm only declaring that ghost
stories are merely _stories_, and in no case a true relation of
happenings. Lang investigated thousands of cases, and in ten out of every
eleven, he states, fraud was proved."
"Quite so," said Eve, "and it is that eleventh case that interests the
real thinker, the true inquirer."
"But the eleventh case was simply not proven, it never has been shown
that it was really a ghostly visitation."
"But they do say, Uncle Gifford," observed Braye, "that the very fact of
the frauds being perpetrated proves that there was something to imitate.
If no spirit had ever returned to earth and made itself manifest, no one
would have thought of pretending that one did."
"Nonsense and super-nonsense! Why, Rudolph, perpetual motion is not a
real thing, but how many times has it been pretended! You don't remember
the Keeley Motor, but that deceived thousands into believing that
perpetual motion was at last discovered, but it wasn't; and that fraud
doesn't prove that perpetual motion, without adequate cause, exists."
"Here comes Professor Hardwick," exclaimed Milly, "splendid to have him
come just now! Sit down, Professor, and get right into the game. You know
all these people, except this angel child, Miss Vernie Reid."
"I am an angel," declared Vernie, "but I'm no child! I've just graduated
with honours and diplomas and lots of presents. Now, I'm out in the great
world, and glory, but I love it! But don't mind me, Professor, go right
on and tell us all you know about ghosts and ghostesses."
"Bless my soul! I don't know anything about them."
"Well, do you believe in ghosts?"
"What do you mean by ghosts? How do you define a ghost?"
"Ah, there's the rub," said Landon. "These people are all talking at
cross purposes. Mr. Bruce means a scarecrow phantom rigged up in sheets,
Miss Carnforth means a supernatural being of some sort, but I take a
ghost, in the proper sense, to mean the visible soul of some one who has
died."
"What do you mean by visible soul? Disembodied?"
"No," considered Landon, "I suppose I mean clothed in a body,--that is an
apparent body."
"And raiment?" asked the old Professor.
"Yes, certainly. I never heard of a nude spook!"
"Then your visible soul is concealed by a body of flesh, and clothes, of
fabric, or, at least, apparently so. The soul, I take it, would show but
low visibility."
"Good, Hardwick!" cried Mr. Bruce. "Give them a jolt, they need
it,--talking such rubbish!"
"Rubbish, Bruce? What do you mean by rubbish?"
"Why, all this ghost gabble----"
"How do you know it's rubbish? Have you personally disproved it? Do you
mean intentional rubbish? Are they talking deceptively, or are they
themselves deceived?"
"By the Lord Harry, Hardwick, I had forgotten you were such a stickler
for words! I must choose my diction carefully. Do you, then, believe that
so-called supernatural appearances are caused by psychical influences or
are hallucinations of the senses? There, I think I've put it clearly."
"Fairly so. But I can't answer clearly. I never express an opinion on a
grave question----"
Milly's hand flew up to her mouth to repress an involuntary giggle. "A
_grave_ question!" she exploded. "It surely is."
The Professor looked at her thoughtfully. "It is," he went on, "and it is
no laughing matter. As I was saying, I never state an opinion without
being sure of my facts. Now, I've had no experience, personally, with
supernatural matters, and so am unfit to discuss them. But, I admit I
should be very glad to have some such experience. Yes, I certainly
should."
"Really," and Eve Carnforth looked interested. "I can arrange it for you,
Professor Hardwick."
"No, no, my dear lady, I do not mean that I want to go to a séance, where
the so-called medium throws flowers and things out of a cabinet, or toots
trumpets and bangs cymbals! No, thank you, I've seen such often."
"What would you choose as an experience?" asked Landon.
"I'd like to go to a house that is reputed haunted, and in circumstances
that preclude all possibility of fraud, see the haunting spirits or hear
them, for myself."
"Me, too!" cried Vernie. "Oh, I do think that would be the rippingest
fun! If you ever do it, Professor, mayn't I go with you?"
"I'll go along," said Eve. "Wouldn't that be a splendid proof! To have
such a scientific and open-minded man as the Professor, and a few others
who are in earnest and anxious to learn. You couldn't go, Mr. Bruce. You
are too sceptical."
"I'm just the one you need," he laughed. "A balance wheel to keep you
enthusiasts straight. But haunted houses are not to be found on every
bush in America. If we were in England now,--or Scotland."
"They do have some over here," Landon asserted. "I read of one recently,
and I've heard of others."
"Let's find one," suggested Eve, "and spend our summer vacation in it!
Wouldn't that be a lark?"
"Oh, do!" exclaimed Vernie. "I'd just love it! May I go, Uncle Gifford?
Oh, please let me."
"Only if I go myself, child. The spooks,--I beg their pardon, phantasms,
might carry you off. I'll have to go along to rescue you."
"Phantasms don't carry people off," said Eve, contemptuously. "And though
I'd like to consider this plan, I'd only do so, if we were all in earnest
as investigators, whatever our opinions may be."
"Come on, let's go," said Landon. "I think it a great little old scheme.
Make up a party, you know, but every one who joins must promise to be
earnest and honest. Must promise to do nothing to fool or mislead the
others, but keep a fair and open mind for any developments. Of course,
there won't be any developments, but we can have a jolly time and we can
have wild discussions."
"Wynne would rather have a discussion than eat," said his wife. "I'll go,
and I'll be the housekeeper and chaperon of the crowd, if, as Wynne says,
there'll be no developments. I'd love the outing, and I think this a
splendid party to belong to. And let's take Norma Cameron. She's a
sensitive, or whatever you call it, and she'll help you out, Eve."
"Why make the party any larger?" asked Eve, a little petulantly. "The
crowd here now seems just right and congenial and all that."
"Why lug in Norma?" said Braye, smiling. "I don't know said Norma, but I
agree with Eve that the party here is just sort of complete."
"Yes, I will take Norma. The poor child never gets an outing, and she'd
just love this chance."
"You talk as if we were going to a summer resort," said Landon. "In the
first place, Milly, I doubt if we can find a properly haunted house in a
pleasant locality, that is for rent."
"Of course we can't," declared Mr. Bruce. "The whole scheme is idiotic.
But if you can work it out, Landon, I'll go along, and take this little
piece of property." He looked smilingly at the eager-eyed Vernie. "She's
due for some fun after her school work, and if she likes this stunt,
let's try to put it over."
"How would you set out to find a house?" asked Braye.
"Advertise," said Landon, promptly. "I know a firm of real estate agents,
that I'll bet could manage it in short order. Say we try it?"
"I'm going to take Norma," insisted Milly. "Mayn't I, Wynne?"
"Take anything or anybody you wish, my cherished one. But then, oughtn't
we to have another man?"
"Yes," said Milly, decidedly. "I hate a bunch of hens, without plenty of
menfolks about. Who knows a nice, good-natured, all round adaptable
dinner man?"
"I know just the chap," said Braye, "but he's a minister. Or, at least,
he used to be. But he's an awfully good fellow, and most agreeable
parlour company."
"What's his name?" asked Landon.
"Tracy. I met him first in Chicago, some years ago, and I've always liked
him."
"All right, if Milly asks Norma, you ask your friend, but it's a case of
first catch your house!"
"It's got to be a nice house, and fairly comfortable," Milly stipulated,
"or I won't go."
"It's got to have a well-authenticated ghost, or I won't go," laughed
Braye. "I don't believe in the things, but I'd like to have a chance to
hear their clanking chains, or whatever they perform on."
"I'll go just for the fun of the thing," said Vernie, "and if we do catch
a ghost, so much the better!"