"You ought to have someone to sleep in your room at night," I said. "You
ought not to be left by yourself."
"Henry is near me--in the next room," she replied. "I would not have a
nurse for the world--I hate and detest nurses."
Soon afterwards she left me. She was very erratic, and before she left
the room she had quite got over her depression. The sun shone out, and
with the gleam of brightness her volatile spirits rose.
"I am going for a drive," she said. "Will you come with me?"
"Not this morning," I replied. "If you ask me to-morrow, I shall be
pleased to accompany you."
"Well, go to Henry," she answered. "Talk to him--find out what ails him,
order tonics for him. Cheer him in every way in your power. You say he
is not ill--not seriously ill--I know better. My impression is that if
my days are numbered, so are his."
She went away, and I sought her husband. As soon as the wheels of her
brougham were heard bowling away over the gravel sweep, we went up
together to his room.
"That eye came twice last night," he said in an awestruck whisper to me.
"I am a doomed man--a doomed man. I cannot bear this any longer."
We were standing in the room as he said the words. Even in broad
daylight, I could see that he glanced round him with apprehension. He
was shaking quite visibly. The room was decidedly old-fashioned, but the
greater part of the furniture was modern. The bed was an Albert one with
a spring mattress, and light, cheerful dimity hangings. The windows were
French--they were wide open, and let in the soft, pleasant air, for the
day was truly a spring one in winter. The paper on the walls was light.
"This is a quaint old wardrobe," I said. "It looks out of place with the
rest of the furniture. Why don't you have it removed?"
[Illustration: "DON'T GO NEAR IT--I DREAD IT!"]
"Hush," he said, with a gasp. "Don't go near it--I dread it, I have
locked it. It is always in that direction that the apparition appears.
The apparition seems to grow out of the glass of the wardrobe. It always
appears in that one spot."
"I see," I answered. "The wardrobe is built into the wall. That is the
reason it cannot be removed. Have you got the key about you?"
He fumbled in his pocket, and presently produced a bunch of keys.
"I wish you wouldn't open the wardrobe," he said. "I frankly admit that
I dislike having it touched."
"All right," I replied. "I will not examine it while you are in the
room. You will perhaps allow me to keep the key?"
"Certainly! You can take it from the bunch, if you wish. This is it. I
shall be only too glad to have it well out of my own keeping."
"We will go downstairs," I said.
We returned to Sir Henry's library. It was my turn now to lock the door.
"Why do you do that?" he asked.
"Because I wish to be quite certain that no one overhears our
conversation."
"What have you got to say?"
"I have a plan to propose to you."
"What is it?"
"I want you to change bedrooms with me to-night."
"What can you mean?--what will Lady Studley say?"
"Lady Studley must know nothing whatever about the arrangement. I think
it very likely that the apparition which troubles you will be discovered
to have a material foundation. In short, I am determined to get to the
bottom of this horror. You have seen it often, and your nerves are much
shattered. I have never seen it, and my nerves are, I think, in
tolerable order. If I sleep in your room to-night--"
"It may not visit you."
"It may not, but on the other hand it may. I have a curiosity to lie on
that bed and to face that wardrobe in the wall. You must yield to my
wishes, Sir Henry."
"But how can the knowledge of this arrangement be kept from my wife?"
"Easily enough. You will both go to your rooms as usual. You will bid
her good-night as usual, and after the doors of communication are closed
I will enter the room and you will go to mine, or to any other that you
like to occupy. You say your wife never comes into your room during the
hours of the night?"
"She has never yet done so."
"She will not to-night. Should she by any chance call for assistance, I
will immediately summon you."
It was very evident that Sir Henry did not like this arrangement. He
yielded, however, to my very strong persuasions, which almost took the
form of commands, for I saw that I could do nothing unless I got
complete mastery over the man.
Lady Studley returned from her drive just as our arrangements were fully
made. I had not a moment during all the day to examine the interior of
the wardrobe. The sick woman's restlessness grew greater as the hours
advanced. She did not care to leave her husband's side. She sat with him
as he examined his books. She followed him from room to room. In the
afternoon, to the relief of everyone, some fresh guests arrived. In
consequence we had a cheerful evening. Lady Studley came down to dinner
in white from top to toe. Her dress was ethereal in texture and largely
composed of lace. I cannot describe woman's dress, but with her shadowy
figure and worn, but still lovely face, she looked spiritual. The gleam
in her large blue eyes was pathetic. Her love for her husband was
touching to behold. How soon, how very soon, they must part from each
other! Only I as a doctor knew how impossible it was to keep the lamp of
life much longer burning in the poor girl's frame.
We retired as usual to rest. Sir Henry bade me a cheerful good-night.
Lady Studley nodded to me as she left the room.
[Illustration: "'SLEEP WELL,' SHE SAID, IN A GAY VOICE."]
"Sleep well," she said, in a gay voice.
It was late the next morning when we all met round the breakfast table.
Sir Henry looked better, but Lady Studley many degrees worse, than the
night before. I wondered at her courage in retaining her post at the
head of her table. The visitors, who came in at intervals and took their
seats at the table, looked at her with wonder and compassion.
"Surely my hostess is very ill?" said a guest who sat next my side.
"Yes, but take no notice of it," I answered.
Soon after breakfast I sought Sir Henry.
"Well--well?" he said, as he grasped my hand. "Halifax, you have seen
it. I know you have by the expression of your face."
"Yes," I replied, "I have."
"How quietly you speak. Has not the horror of the thing seized you?"
"No," I said, with a brief laugh. "I told you yesterday that my nerves
were in tolerable order. I think my surmise was correct, and that the
apparition has tangible form and can be traced to its foundation."
An unbelieving look swept over Sir Henry's face.
"Ah," he said, "doctors are very hard to convince. Everything must be
brought down to a cold material level to satisfy them; but several
nights in that room would shatter even your nerves, my friend."
"You are quite right," I answered. "I should be very sorry to spend
several nights in that room. Now I will tell you briefly what occurred."
We were standing in the library. Sir Henry went to the door, locked it,
and put the key in his pocket.
"Can I come in?" said a voice outside.
The voice was Lady Studley's.
"In a minute, my darling," answered her husband. "I am engaged with
Halifax just at present."
"Medically, I suppose?" she answered.
"Yes, medically," he responded.
She went away at once, and Sir Henry returned to my side.
"Now speak," he said. "Be quick. She is sure to return, and I don't like
her to fancy that we are talking secrets."
"This is my story," I said. "I went into your room, put out all the
lights, and sat on the edge of the bed."
"You did not get into bed, then?"
"No, I preferred to be up and to be ready for immediate action should
the apparition, the horror, or whatever you call it, appear."
"Good God, it is a horror, Halifax!"
"It is, Sir Henry. A more diabolical contrivance for frightening a man
into his grave could scarcely have been contrived. I can comfort you on
one point, however. The terrible thing you saw is not a figment of your
brain. There is no likelihood of a lunatic asylum in your case. Someone
is playing you a trick."
"I cannot agree with you--but proceed," said the baronet, impatiently.
"I sat for about an hour on the edge of the bed," I continued. "When I
entered the room it was twelve o'clock--one had sounded before there was
the least stir or appearance of anything, then the ticking noise you
have described was distinctly audible. This was followed by a sudden
bright light, which seemed to proceed out of the recesses of the
wardrobe."
"What did you feel when you saw that light?"
"Too excited to be nervous," I answered, briefly. "Out of the circle of
light the horrible eye looked at me."
"What did you do then? Did you faint?"
"No, I went noiselessly across the carpet up to the door of the wardrobe
and looked in."
"Heavens! you are daring. I wonder you are alive to tell this tale."
"I saw a shadowy form," I replied--"dark and tall--the one brilliant eye
kept on looking past me, straight into the room. I made a very slight
noise; it immediately disappeared. I waited for some time--nothing more
happened. I got into your bed, Sir Henry, and slept. I can't say that I
had a comfortable night, but I slept, and was not disturbed by anything
extraordinary for the remaining hours of the night."
"Now what do you mean to do? You say you can trace this thing to its
foundation. It seems to me that all you have seen only supports my firm
belief that a horrible apparition visits that room."
"A material one," I responded. "The shadowy form had substance, of that
I am convinced. Sir Henry, I intend to sleep in that room again
to-night."
"Lady Studley will find out."
"She will not. I sleep in the haunted room again to-night, and during
the day you must so contrive matters that I have plenty of time to
examine the wardrobe. I did not do so yesterday because I had not an
opportunity. You must contrive to get Lady Studley out of the way,
either this morning or afternoon, and so manage matters for me that I
can be some little time alone in your room."
"Henry, Henry, how awestruck you look!" said a gay voice at the window.
Lady Studley had come out, had come round to the library window, and,
holding up her long, dark-blue velvet dress, was looking at us with a
peculiar smile.
"Well, my love," replied the baronet. He went to the window and flung it
open. "Lucilla," he exclaimed, "you are mad to stand on the damp grass."
"Oh, no, not mad," she answered. "I have come to that stage when nothing
matters. Is not that so, Dr. Halifax?"
"You are very imprudent," I replied.
She shook her finger at me playfully, and turned to her husband.
"Henry," she said, "have you taken my keys? I cannot find them
anywhere."
"I will go up and look for them," said Sir Henry. He left the room, and
Lady Studley entered the library through one of the French windows.
"What do you think of my husband this morning?" she asked.
"He is a little better," I replied. "I am confident that he will soon be
quite well again."
She gave a deep sigh when I said this, her lips trembled, and she turned
away. I thought my news would make her happy, and her depression
surprised me.
At this moment Sir Henry came into the room.
"Here are your keys," he said to his wife. He gave her the same bunch he
had given me the night before. I hoped she would not notice that the key
of the wardrobe was missing.
"And now I want you to come for a drive with me," said Sir Henry.
He did not often accompany her, and the pleasure of this unlooked-for
indulgence evidently tempted her.
"Very well," she answered. "Is Dr. Halifax coming?"
"No, he wants to have a ride."
"If he rides, can he not follow the carriage?"
"Will you do that, Halifax?" asked my host.
"No, thank you," I answered; "I must write some letters before I go
anywhere. I will ride to the nearest town and post them presently, if I
may." I left the room as I spoke.
Shortly afterwards I saw from a window Sir Henry and his wife drive
away. They drove in a large open landau, and two girls who were staying
in the house accompanied them. My hour had come, and I went up at once
to Sir Henry's bedroom. Lady Studley's room opened directly into that of
her husband, but both rooms had separate entrances.
I locked the two outer doors now, and then began my investigations. I
had the key of the wardrobe in my pocket.
[Illustration: "GOOD HEAVENS! WHAT HAD HAPPENED?"]
It was troublesome to unlock, because the key was a little rusty, and it
was more than evident that the heavy doors had not been opened for some
time. Both these doors were made of glass. When shut, they resembled in
shape and appearance an ordinary old-fashioned window. The glass was set
in deep mullions. It was thick, was of a peculiar shade of light blue,
and was evidently of great antiquity. I opened the doors and went
inside. The wardrobe was so roomy that I could stand upright with
perfect comfort. It was empty, and was lined through and through with
solid oak. I struck a light and began to examine the interior with care.
After a great deal of patient investigation I came across a notch in the
wood. I pressed my finger on this, and immediately a little panel slid
back, which revealed underneath a small button. I turned the button and
a door at the back of the wardrobe flew open. A flood of sunlight poured
in, and stepping out, I found myself in another room. I looked around me
in astonishment. This was a lady's chamber. Good heavens! what had
happened? I was in Lady Studley's room. Shutting the mysterious door of
the wardrobe very carefully, I found that all trace of its existence
immediately vanished.
There was no furniture against this part of the wall. It looked
absolutely bare and smooth. No picture ornamented it. The light paper
which covered it gave the appearance of a perfectly unbroken pattern. Of
course, there must be a concealed spring somewhere, and I lost no time
in feeling for it. I pressed my hand and the tips of my fingers in every
direction along the wall. Try as I would, however, I could not find the
spring, and I had at last to leave Lady Studley's room and go back to
the one occupied by her husband, by the ordinary door.
Once more I re-entered the wardrobe and deliberately broke off the
button which opened the secret door from within. Anyone who now entered
the wardrobe by this door, and shut it behind him, would find it
impossible to retreat. The apparition, if it had material foundation,
would thus find itself trapped in its own net.
What could this thing portend?
I had already convinced myself that if Sir Henry were the subject of a
hallucination, I also shared it. As this was impossible, I felt certain
that the apparition had a material foundation. Who was the person who
glided night after night into Lady Studley's room, who knew the trick of
the secret spring in the wall, who entered the old wardrobe, and
performed this ghastly, this appalling trick on Sir Henry Studley? I
resolved that I would say nothing to Sir Henry of my fresh discovery
until after I had spent another night in the haunted room.
Accordingly, I slipped the key of the wardrobe once more into my pocket
and went downstairs.
I had my way again that night. Once more I found myself the sole
occupant of the haunted room. I put out the light, sat on the edge of
the bed, and waited the issue of events. At first there was silence and
complete darkness, but soon after one o'clock I heard the very slight
but unmistakable tick-tick, which told me that the apparition was about
to appear. The ticking noise resembled the quaint sound made by the
death spider. There was no other noise of any sort, but a quickening of
my pulses, a sensation which I could not call fear, but which was
exciting to the point of pain, braced me up for an unusual and horrible
sight. The light appeared in the dim recess of the wardrobe. It grew
clear and steady, and quickly resolved itself into one intensely bright
circle. Out of this circle the eye looked at me. The eye was unnaturally
large--it was clear, almost transparent, its expression was full of
menace and warning. Into the circle of light presently a shadowy and
ethereal hand intruded itself. The fingers beckoned me to approach,
while the eye looked fixedly at me. I sat motionless on the side of the
bed. I am stoical by nature and my nerves are well seasoned, but I am
not ashamed to say that I should be very sorry to be often subjected to
that menace and that invitation. The look in that eye, the beckoning
power in those long, shadowy fingers would soon work havoc even in the
stoutest nerves. My heart beat uncomfortably fast, and I had to say over
and over to myself, "This is nothing more than a ghastly trick." I had
also to remind myself that I in my turn had prepared a trap for the
apparition. The time while the eye looked and the hand beckoned might in
reality have been counted by seconds; to me it seemed like eternity. I
felt the cold dew on my forehead before the rapidly waning light assured
me that the apparition was about to vanish. Making an effort I now left
the bed and approached the wardrobe. I listened intently. For a moment
there was perfect silence. Then a fumbling noise was distinctly audible.
It was followed by a muffled cry, a crash, and a heavy fall. I struck a
light instantly, and taking the key of the wardrobe from my pocket,
opened it. Never shall I forget the sight that met my gaze.
There, huddled up on the floor, lay the prostrate and unconscious form
of Lady Studley. A black cloak in which she had wrapped herself partly
covered her face, but I knew her by her long, fair hair. I pulled back
the cloak, and saw that the unhappy girl had broken a blood-vessel, and
even as I lifted her up I knew that she was in a dying condition.
I carried her at once into her own room and laid her on the bed. I then
returned and shut the wardrobe door, and slipped the key into my pocket.
My next deed was to summon Sir Henry.
"What is it?" he asked, springing upright in bed.
"Come at once," I said, "your wife is very ill."
"Dying?" he asked, in an agonized whisper.