THE GHASTLY RELIC.
Meantime Fritz had been in the old rookery some time prior to the
arrival of the bearded men.
No sooner had he entered the large hall, and closed the door behind
him, than he felt a sort of dread of something, he knew not what.
There was a damp, musty, deathly smell about the place that he did not
quite like.
"I don'd know vedder I vas afraid of ghosts or not," he soliloquized,
pausing and gazing around him. "It looks ash uff dis might be a blace
vere dey manufacture ghost shows; but somebody has liffed here vonce
upon a time."
The carpet yet remained upon the floor of the long hall, and also upon
the staircase which led to the upper floor. There was also a large
picture hung upon the wall.
Passing along the hall, Fritz tried each of the doors which opened off
from it, but in each instance he found them locked, and was unable to
effect an entrance.
"Vel, dot looks like ash uff nopody vas to home," he muttered. "I'll
try der upstairs part, und if I don'd haff no better success, I vil
stay out mit der hall."
He accordingly ascended the hall staircase, and proceeded to take a
tour of the upper part of the rambling old structure.
Here the doors were all locked, with one exception, and this had
evidently been left as locked, the bolt being turned, but the door not
having been tightly closed, the bolt failed to enter the socket.
Opening this door, Fritz entered, and found himself in a large
furnished apartment, there being a carpet, old and moth-eaten, upon
the floor; several pieces of stuffed furniture, which had also been
victims of moth and worm, and a large round oaken table in the center
of the room.
And over this, suspended by a cord, which was fastened to the ceiling,
was an object which caused Fritz to utter a grunt of startled alarm.
It was a man's head, cut from the body at the throat, and held in
suspension by a cord fastened to the long hair.
The head had probably hung there for a year or so, for the flesh had
dried down upon the bones. The eyes, however, retained their glassy
stare, the teeth showed to ghastly advantage, and the heavy black
mustache and goatee bristled ferociously.
Fritz gave a startled cry, and his hair fairly raised on end, as he
beheld the strange spectacle, but the longer he stared at it, the less
his alarm, and he finally advanced into the room.
"By shimminy--I vas skeardt like ash der duyfel at first, put now I
don'd vas a bit afraid. Somepody hang dot up there yoost for a
scare-crow. Uff der ghosts vas to see it, I'll bet a half-dollar dey
vould run."
Just then there was a flash of lightning and a heavy roll of thunder,
which caused Fritz to start, and give a nervous glance at the swinging
head.
"I don'd quite vas like id here," he muttered, uneasily. "I'd makes a
veller t'ink he's goin' der get smashed up effery minute. I vonder vot
dey keep up there?" and his eyes rested upon an aperture in the
ceiling, such as is often provided in houses as a means of reaching
the roof. A stout rope hung down through this opening to the floor of
the room, and had evidently been used to climb up into the attic.
Fritz was just contemplating it, when a sound of footsteps in the hall
outside aroused him to quicker thoughts.
"I'll bet a half-dollar it's a ghost comin'," he gasped, the tendency
of his hair being again decidedly upward. "But, it was a cold day ven
dey scalb me mit der tommyhawk, ash long ash I can climb."
Accordingly, up the rope he went, hand-over-hand, with the agility of
a monkey, and soon gained the attic immediately above the chamber.
It was a dark, ill-smelling place, and so far as Fritz could see, used
for no particular purpose whatever.
Ensconcing himself directly beside the aperture through which he had
come up, Fritz prepared to await developments.
He was not a little anxious to know who the new-comer was--whether a
human or spiritual being, for if the latter, he had a curiosity to
inspect it.
In a few moments the door opened and a strapping Irishman stalked into
the chamber, a lank, lean specimen of humanity, with a Killkenny face,
red hair, a fringe of reddish beard under his lower jaw, extending to
his ears, and attired in brogans, short pantaloons, and a blue
soldier coat, with a grimy clay pipe in his mouth, and battered plug
hat on his head. Of the "rale old" race of Irishmen, he was certainly
a good specimen.
"Arrah! sure it's divil one room but they have locked, an' a sorry
place it is, too, for a dacent Irish gintlemon--an the son of a duke
at that! Bad 'cess to sich a counthry, onny-how. It's wurruk like the
divil for a bit of grub, and when a mon gits out ov wurruk sure
stomick has to pay for it. If yez ax a mon will he be afther givin'
yez a nip off bread, he tell yez, 'Arrah! off wid ye, ye murdtherin'
tromp, or I'll sick tha purrup on yez!' bedad."
"I'll yoost pet half-dollar der Irishman vas pin stoppin' mit
Samples!" Fritz muttered, with a grin, taking a peep at the son of
Erin. "He vas hungry like as vot I vas. Vonder off he haff discovered
der skelegon, yet avile."
The Hibernian had not, evidently, for he was perched composedly
beneath the suspended head.
"Sorry a place this is for the son of a duke," he went on muttering.
"Sure, it looks as if the ould divil himself had been here. Guess this
property would be sellin' moighty cheap, tha while. Ugh!" as a heavy
clap of thunder caused the house to shake from stem to stern, "a sorry
wild night it's a-goin' to be, an' it's meself that's wishin' I was
back forninst the furdther side av the big puddle."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Fritz, throwing his voice to the farther side of the
room.
"Yis, ha! ha! bad 'cess to the loikes av yez, whoever ye may be!" the
Irishman cried, fiercely, gazing in vain around the apartment, in
search of the author of the laugh.
"Ho! ho! itchy, dirdty Irish!" Fritz caused a different voice to say,
in a still opposite part of the room.
"No, I'm divil a wan av the likes!" the son of Erin cried, getting
angry. "Bad luck to yez! ef I gits me hands on yez, it's a divil's own
trouncin' you'll get, ontirely. I'll have yez know my name is Patrick
Grogan, an' it's the dacent, gintlemonly son av a duke and a duchess I
am, bedad."
"A son off a gun, more likely. Look out, you bloody Irish, or I vil
spit on you!" Fritz caused the suspended head to say, in a hoarse,
gurgling voice.
"Aha! it's spittin' on me yez'll be, eh?" the Hibernian cried, leaping
from his seat, his walking-stick in hand--a formidable piece of real
thorn. "Oh! you black-livered omadhaun, if I catch yez, _won't_ I
tache yez to be dacent and civil to a gintlemon!"
Then, chancing to glance upward, he saw for the first the swinging
head, and in utter horror dropped upon his knees and raised his hands
upward in supplication.
"Oh, holy Virgin Mary, protect me!" he howled, his terrified gaze
glued upon the unsightly object. "Oh, murdtherin Maria! och, bad luck!
fot have I done, Mr. Divil? shure it's nary a thing wrong I've did,
nor sthalin' I've never been guilty of!"
"You vas von son-off-a-sea-cook!" came from the head.
"Yis--och, sure I'se anything yez wants, Mr. Divil! only don't be
afther hurtin' the loikes av me!"
"Then arise, dirdty Irish, and climb into the attic, before the
spirits come to wrap their icy clutches around you!"
"Sure, I'll be afther goin'," Pat cried, and he did go--not up the
rope, but out of the room, as fast as he could go.
Nor did he pause until outside of the house, as Fritz could tell by
the sound of his rapidly retreating footsteps.
"Vel, dot vas purdy goot fun," Fritz muttered with a grin. "I dink I
vil vait dil some vone else comes."
He had not long to wait before footsteps sounded once more, coming up
the stairs, just as the storm broke loose outside, and torrents of
rain poured down upon the roof, while the thunder rumbled ominously.
Presently two men entered, one carrying a lantern, for it was now
quite dark.
Both were roughly dressed and brutal-looking fellows, wearing heavy
black beards.
"Humph!" was Fritz's mental comment, as he beheld them. "I'll bet a
half-dollar I smells von mice. Uff I haff not made a big mistake, I
dinks I haff stumbled right inder the smugglers' den vot I am looking
for."
It was only a sudden suspicion, to be sure; nevertheless it struck him
very forcibly.
One of the men set the lantern upon the table, and then perched
himself beside it, while the other sat down upon a chair and gazed
speculatively at the ghastly object which hung suspended from the
ceiling.
"I wonder how long afore the rest o' ther boys will be here," he
growled.
"Dunno," the other fellow replied. "Hope they'll come afore long and
settle the matter, so that we'll know what we've got to do."
"How d'ye think it's going?"
"Dunno. Reckon the majority'll be ag'in' the poor cuss."
"I'm thinkin' that way, too. I kinder hope not, though, for I don't
fancy the job."
"Pshaw! you're chicken-hearted, without cause. He's never made love to
you."
"Darn it, no; but he's too fine a specimen of manhood to feed to the
sharks."
"Pooh! Many's the one better'n he wot's enriched the bottom o' the
sea. I wonder who the Irishman was, we met at the front?"
"Some tramp, I allow, who'd sought a night's shelter here, and got
skeered at our friend Bill," and he glanced at the swinging head with
a laugh. "Hello! I say, Bill, how are you getting along in your new
place o' residence?"
"First-rate!" apparently answered the grinning head, followed by a
ghostly sort of a gurgling laugh.
"Jehosaphat!" cried the questioner, leaping to his feet. "Thunder and
lightning! Did ye hear that, Hand?"
"Waal, I should murmur," Hank grunted, leaving the table with a
spring, and landing near the door. "What the devil's the matter?"
"Cussed ef the cadaver o' Bill Budge didn't speak," the first man
cried.
"Git out! Budge has bin dead over a year; how in thunder could he
speak?"
"Mebbe his spirit hes come back inter his head."
"Pooh! impossible! It was our fancy; we didn't hear nothin'," Hank
growled, edging a little nearer to the door.
"You're a liar!" thundered a voice, seeming to come directly from
between the pearly teeth of the suspended head, and to make matters
worse, the head began to swing slowly to and fro.
With howls and curses, the two masked men made the hastiest kind of an
exit from the room and down the stairs, while Fritz in the attic was
convulsed with laughter.
"Dot was better as half-a-dozen suppers, py shimminy!" he snorted,
holding his sides.
All was now quiet for some time, except for the howling of the storm
without.
But, finally, footsteps were again heard, and eight men, all masked
but one, filed into the room.
The eighth man was a young man, of prepossessing appearance, unmasked,
and had his hands bound behind his back.
He was better dressed than his grim captors, and there was a fearless,
cool expression upon his face, that at once won Fritz's admiration.
"Ha! Hank and Jim have been here already, and gone!" a tall,
broad-shouldered member of the party said. "They'll be back directly,
no doubt. And now, Hal Hartly, we will proceed to review your case,
and dispose of it according to the decision of the majority."
"Go ahead, captain!" the prisoner replied, calmly. "I am as well
prepared now, as I shall be."