A few minutes later I was tripping up-stairs in the wake of a smart
young maid whom Mayor Packard had addressed as Ellen. I liked this girl
at first sight and, as I followed her up first one flight, then another,
to the room which had been chosen for me, the hurried glimpses I had of
her bright and candid face suggested that in this especial member of the
household I might hope to find a friend and helper in case friendship
and help were needed in the blind task to which I stood committed. But
I soon saw cause--or thought I did--to change this opinion. When she
turned on me at the door of my room, a small one at the extreme end of
the third floor, I had an opportunity of meeting her eyes. The interest
in her look was not the simple one to be expected. In another person
in other circumstances I should have characterized her glance as one of
inquiry and wonder. But neither inquiry nor wonder described the present
situation, and I put myself upon my guard.
Seeing me look her way, she flushed, and, throwing wide the door,
remarked in the pleasantest of tones:
“This is your room. Mrs. Packard says that if it is not large enough or
does not seem pleasant to you, she will find you another one to-morrow.”
“It’s very pleasant and quite large enough,” I confidently replied,
after a hasty look about me. “I could not be more comfortable.”
She smiled, a trifle broadly for the occasion, I thought, and patted a
pillow here and twitched a curtain there, as she remarked with a certain
emphasis:
“I’m sure you will be comfortable. There’s nobody else on this floor
but Letty and the baby, but you don’t look as if you would be easily
frightened.” Astonished, not so much by her words as by the furtive look
she gave me, I laughed as I repeated “Frightened? What should frighten
me?”
“Oh, nothing.” Her back was to me now, but I felt that I knew her very
look. “Nothing, of course. If you’re not timid you won’t mind sleeping
so far away from every one. Then, we are always within call. The attic
door is just a few steps off. We’ll leave it unlocked and you can come
up if--if you feel like it at any time. We’ll understand.”
Understand! I eyed her as she again looked my way, with some of her own
curiosity if not wonder.
“Mrs. Packard must have had some very timorous guests,” I observed. “Or,
perhaps, you have had experiences here which have tended to alarm
you. The house is so large and imposing for the quarter it is in I can
readily imagine it to attract burglars.”
“Burglars! It would be a brave burglar who would try to get in here. I
guess you never heard about this house.”
“No,” I admitted, unpleasantly divided between a wish to draw her out
and the fear of betraying Mayor Packard’s trust in me by showing the
extent of my interest.
“Well, it’s only gossip,” she laughingly assured me. “You needn’t think
of it, Miss. I’m sure you’ll be all right. We girls have been, so far,
and Mrs. Packard--”
Here she doubtless heard a voice outside or some summons from below,
for she made a quick start toward the door, remarking in a different and
very pleasant tone of voice:
“Dinner at seven, Miss. There’ll be no extra company to-night. I’m
coming.” This to some one in the hall as she hastily passed through the
door.
Dropping the bag I had lifted to unpack, I stared at the door which had
softly closed under her hand, then, with an odd impulse, turned to look
at my own face in the glass before which I chanced to be standing. Did I
expect to find there some evidence of the excitement which this strange
conversation might naturally produce in one already keyed up to
an expectation of the mysterious and unusual? If so, I was not
disappointed. My features certainly betrayed the effect of this
unexpected attack upon my professional equanimity. What did the girl
mean? What was she hinting at? What underlay--what could underlie her
surprising remark, “I guess you never heard about this house?” Something
worth my knowing; something which might explain Mayor Packard’s fears
and Mrs. Packard’s--
There I stopped. It was where the girl had stopped. She and not I must
round out this uncompleted sentence.
Meanwhile I occupied myself in unpacking my two bags and making
acquaintance with the room which, I felt, was destined to be the scene
of many, anxious thoughts. Its first effect had been a cheerful one,
owing to its two large windows, one looking out on a stretch of clear
sky above a mass of low, huddled buildings, and the other on the wall of
the adjacent house which, though near enough to obstruct the view, was
not near enough to exclude all light. Another and closer scrutiny of the
room did not alter the first impression. To the advantages of light were
added those of dainty furnishing and an exceptionally pleasing color
scheme. There was no richness anywhere, but an attractive harmony
which gave one an instantaneous feeling of home. From the little
brass bedstead curtained with cretonne, to the tiny desk filled with
everything needful for immediate use, I saw evidences of the most
careful housekeeping, and was vainly asking myself what could have
come into Mrs. Packard’s life to disturb so wholesome a nature, when my
attention was arrested by a picture hanging at the right of the window
overlooking the next house.
It gave promise of being a most interesting sketch, and I crossed over
to examine it; but instead of doing so, found my eyes drawn toward
something more vital than any picture and twice as enchaining.
It was a face, the face of an old woman staring down at me from a
semicircular opening in the gable of the adjoining house. An ordinary
circumstance in itself, but made extraordinary by the fixity of her
gaze, which was leveled straight on mine, and the uncommon expression
of breathless eagerness which gave force to her otherwise commonplace
features. So remarkable was this expression and so apparently was it
directed against myself, that I felt like throwing up my window and
asking the poor old creature what I could do for her. But her extreme
immobility deterred me. For all the intentness of her look there was
no invitation in it warranting such an advance on my part. She simply
stared down at me in unbroken anxiety, nor, though I watched her for
some minutes with an intensity equal to her own, did I detect any change
either in her attitude or expression.
“Odd,” thought I, and tested her with a friendly bow. The demonstration
failed to produce the least impression. “A most uncanny neighbor,” was
my mental comment on finally turning away. Truly I was surrounded by
mysteries, but fortunately this was one with which I had no immediate
concern. It did not take me long to put away my few belongings and
prepare for dinner. When quite ready, I sat down to write a letter. This
completed, I turned to go downstairs. But before leaving the room I cast
another look up at my neighbor’s attic window. The old woman was still
there. As our glances met I experienced a thrill which was hardly one of
sympathy, yet was not exactly one of fear. My impulse was to pull down
the shade between us, but I had not the heart. She was so old, so feeble
and so, evidently the prey of some strange and fixed idea. What idea? It
was not for me to say, but I found it impossible to make any move
which would seem to shut her out; so I left the shade up; but her image
followed me and I forgot it only when confronted once again with Mrs.
Packard.
That lady was awaiting me at the dining-room door. She had succeeded
in throwing off her secret depression and smiled quite naturally as
I approached. Her easy, courteous manners became her wonderfully. I
immediately recognized how much there was to admire in our mayor’s wife,
and quite understood his relief when, a few minutes later, we sat at
table and conversation began. Mrs. Packard, when free and light-hearted,
was a delightful companion and the meal passed off cheerily. When we
rose and the mayor left us for some necessary business it was with
a look of satisfaction in my direction which was the best possible
preparation for my approaching tete-a-tete with his moody and
incomprehensible wife.
But I was not destined to undergo the contemplated ordeal this evening.
Guests were announced whom Mrs. Packard kindly invited me to meet, but
I begged to be allowed to enjoy the library. I had too much to consider
just now, to find any pleasure in society. Three questions filled my
mind.
What was Mrs. Packard’s secret trouble?
Why were people afraid to remain in this house?
Why did the old woman next door show such interest in the new member of
her neighbor’s household?
Would a single answer cover all? Was there but one cause for each and
every one of these peculiarities? Probably, and it was my duty to ferret
out this cause. But how should I begin? I remembered what I had read
about detectives and their methods, but the help I thus received was
small. Subtler methods were demanded here and subtler methods I must
find. Meantime, I would hope for another talk with Mayor Packard. He
might clear up some of this fog. At least, I should like to give him
the opportunity. But I saw no way of reaching him at present. Even Mrs.
Packard did not feel at liberty to disturb him in his study. I must wait
for his reappearance, and in the meantime divert myself as best I could.
I caught up a magazine, but speedily dropped it to cast a quick glance
around the room. Had I heard anything? No. The house was perfectly
still, save for the sound of conversation in the drawing-room. Yet I
found it hard to keep my eyes upon the page. Quite without my volition
they flew, first to one corner, then to another. The room was light,
there were no shadowy nooks in it, yet I felt an irresistible desire to
peer into every place not directly under my eye. I knew it to be folly,
and, after succumbing to the temptation of taking a sly look behind a
certain tall screen, I resolutely set myself to curb my restlessness
and to peruse in good earnest the article I had begun. To make sure of
myself, I articulated each word aloud, and to my exceeding satisfaction
had reached the second column when I found my voice trailing off into
silence, and every sense alarmingly alert. Yet there was nothing,
absolutely nothing in this well-lighted, cozy family-room to awaken
fear. I was sure of this the next minute, and felt correspondingly
irritated with myself and deeply humiliated. That my nerves should play
me such a trick at the very outset of my business in this house! That I
could not be left alone, with life in every part of the house, and the
sound of the piano and cheerful talking just across the hall, without
the sense of the morbid and unearthly entering my matter-of-fact brain!
Uttering an ejaculation of contempt, I reseated myself. The impulse came
again to look behind me, but I mastered it this time without too great
an effort. I already knew every feature of the room: its old-fashioned
mantel, large round center-table, its couches and chairs, and why should
I waste my attention again upon them?
“Is there anything you wish, Miss?” asked a voice directly over my
shoulder.
I wheeled about with a start. I had heard no one approach; it was not
sound which had disturbed me.
“The library bell rang,” continued the voice. “Is it ice-water you
want?”
Then I saw that it was Nixon, the butler, and shook my head in mingled
anger and perplexity; for not only had he advanced quite noiselessly,
but he was looking at me with that curious concentrated gaze which I had
met twice before since coming into this house.
“I need nothing,” said I, with all the mildness I could summon into my
voice; and did not know whether to like or not like the quiet manner in
which he sidled out of the room.
“Why do they all look at me so closely?” I queried, in genuine
confusion. “The man had no business here. I did not ring, and I don’t
believe he thought I did. He merely wanted to see what I was doing and
whether I was enjoying myself. Why this curiosity? I have never roused
it anywhere else. It is not myself they are interested in, but the cause
and purpose of my presence under this roof.” I paused to wonder over the
fact that the one member of the family who might be supposed to resent
my intrusion most was the one who took it most kindly and with least
token of surprise--Mrs. Packard.
“She accepts me easily enough,” thought I. “To her I am a welcome
companion. What am I to these?”
The answer, or rather a possible answer, came speedily. At nine o’clock
Mayor Packard entered the room from his study across the hall, and,
seeing me alone, came forward briskly. “Mrs. Packard has company and I
am on my way to the drawing-room, but I am happy to have the opportunity
of assuring you that already she looks better, and that I begin to hope
that your encouraging presence may stimulate her to throw aside her
gloom and needless apprehensions. I shall be eternally grateful to you
if it will. It is the first time in a week that she has consented to
receive visitors.” I failed to feel the same elation over this possibly
temporary improvement in his wife’s condition, but I carefully refrained
from betraying my doubts. On the contrary, I took advantage of the
moment to clear my mind of one of the many perplexities disturbing it.
“And I am glad of this opportunity to ask you what may seem a foolish,
if not impertinent question. The maid, Ellen, in showing me my room, was
very careful to assure me that she slept near me and would let me into
her room in case I experienced any alarm in the night; and when I showed
surprise at her expecting me to feel alarm of any kind in a house full
of people, made the remark, ‘I guess you do not know about this house.’
Will you pardon me if I ask if there is anything I don’t know, and
should know, about the home your suffering wife inhabits? A problem such
as you have given me to solve demands a thorough understanding of every
cause capable of creating disturbance in a sensitive mind.”
The mayor’s short laugh failed to hide his annoyance. “You will find
nothing in this direction,” said he, “to account for the condition I
have mentioned to you. Mrs. Packard is utterly devoid of superstition.
That I made sure of before signing the lease of this old house. But I
forgot; you are doubtless ignorant of its reputation. It has, or rather
has had, the name of being haunted. Ridiculous, of course, but a fact
with which Mrs. Packard has had to contend in”--he gave me a quick
glance--“in hiring servants.”
It was now my turn to smile, but somehow I did not. A vision had risen
in my mind of that blank and staring face in the attic window next door,
and I felt--well, I don’t know how I felt, but I did not smile.
Another short laugh escaped him.
“We have not been favored by any manifestations from the spiritual
world. This has proved a very matter-of-fact sort of home for us. I had
almost forgotten that it was burdened with such an uncanny reputation,
and I’m sure that Mrs. Packard would have shared my indifference if it
had not been for the domestic difficulty I have mentioned. It took us
two weeks to secure help of any kind.”
“Indeed! and how long have you been in the house? I judge that you rent
it?”
“Yes, we rent it and we have been here two months. It was the only house
I could get in a locality convenient for me; besides, the old place
suits me. It would take more than an obsolete ghost or so to scare me
away from what I like.”
“But Mrs. Packard? She may not be a superstitious woman, yet--”
“Don’t be fanciful, Miss Saunders. You will have to look deeper than
that for the spell which has been cast over my wife. Olympia afraid of
creaks and groans? Olympia seeing sights? She’s much too practical
by nature, Miss Saunders, to say nothing of the fact that she would
certainly have confided her trouble to me, had her imagination been
stirred in this way. Little things have invariably been discussed
between us. I repeat that this possibility should not give you a
moment’s thought.”
A burst of sweet singing came from the drawing-room.
“That’s her voice,” he cried. “Whatever her trouble may be she has
forgotten it for the moment. Excuse me if I join her. It is such
pleasure to have her at all like herself again.”
I longed to detain him, longed to put some of the numberless questions
my awakened curiosity demanded, but his impatience was too marked and I
let him depart without another word.
But I was not satisfied. Inwardly I determined to see him again as soon
as possible and gain a more definite insight into the mysteries of his
home.