Through the night I shouted back, "Give your next customer its value in
civility."
All of which did me good. Squabbling with flesh and blood is not a bad
preliminary to entering a ghost-haunted house.
Once again I was at River Hall. Looking up at its cheerless portal, I
was amazed at first to see the outside lamp flaring away in the
darkness. Then I remembered that all the other gas being out, of course
this, which I had not turned off, would blaze more brightly.
Purposely I had left my return till rather late. I had gone to one of
the theatres, and remained until a third through the principal piece.
Then I called at a supper-room, had half a dozen oysters and some stout;
after which, like a giant refreshed, I wended my way westward.
Utterly false would it be for me to say I liked the idea of entering the
Uninhabited House; but still, I meant to do it, and I did.
No law-books for me that night; no seductive fire; no shining lights all
over the house. Like a householder of twenty years' standing, I struck a
match, and turned the gas on to a single hall-lamp. I did not trouble
myself even about shutting the doors opening into the hall; I only
strewed flour copiously over the marble pavement, and on the first
flight of stairs, and then, by the servant's passages, crept into the
upper story, and so to bed.
That night I slept dreamlessly. I awoke in broad daylight, wondering why
I had not been called sooner, and then remembered there was no one to
call, and that if I required hot water, I must boil it for myself.
With that light heart which comes after a good night's rest, I put on
some part of my clothing, and was commencing to descend the principal
staircase, when my proceedings of the previous night flashed across my
mind; and pausing, I looked down into the hall. No sign of a foot on the
flour. The white powder lay there innocent of human pressure as the
untrodden snow; and yet, and yet, was I dreaming--could I have been
drunk without my own knowledge, before I went to bed? The gas was ablaze
in the hall and on the staircase, and every door left open over-night
was close shut.
Curiously enough, at that moment fear fell from me like a garment which
has served its turn, and in the strength of my manhood, I felt able to
face anything the Uninhabited House might have to show.
Over the latter part of that week, as being utterly unimportant in its
events or consequences, I pass rapidly, only saying that, when Saturday
came, I followed Munro's advice, and ran down to Brighton, under the
idea that by so doing I should thoroughly strengthen myself for the next
five days' ordeal. But the idea was a mistaken one. The Uninhabited
House took its ticket for Brighton by the same express; it got into the
compartment with me; it sat beside me at dinner; it hob-nobbed to me
over my own wine; uninvited it came out to walk with me; and when I
stood still, listening to the band, it stood still too. It went with me
to the pier, and when the wind blew, as the wind did, it said, "We were
quite as well off on the Thames."
When I woke, through the night, it seemed to shout, "Are you any better
off here?" And when I went to church the next day it crept close up to
me in the pew, and said, "Come, now, it is all very well to say you are
a Christian; but if you were really one you would not be afraid of the
place you and I wot of."
Finally, I was so goaded and maddened that I shook my fist at the sea,
and started off by the evening train for the Uninhabited House.
This time I travelled alone. The Uninhabited House preceded me.
There, in its old position, looking gloomy and mysterious in the
shadows of night, I found it on my return to town; and, as if tired of
playing tricks with one who had become indifferent to their vagaries,
all the doors remained precisely as I had left them; and if there were
ghosts in the house that night, they did not interfere with me or the
chamber I occupied.
Next morning, while I was dressing, a most remarkable thing occurred; a
thing for which I was in no wise prepared. Spirits, and sights and
sounds supposed appropriate to spirithood, I had expected; but for a
modest knock at the front door I was not prepared.
When, after hurriedly completing my toilet, I undrew the bolts and undid
the chain, and opened the door wide, there came rushing into the house a
keen easterly wind, behind which I beheld a sad-faced woman, dressed in
black, who dropped me a curtsey, and said:
"If you please, sir--I suppose you are the gentleman?"
Now, I could make nothing out of this, so I asked her to be good enough
to explain.