so quickly that I could hearits beating. I remembered how, while on a similar night search, I haddiscovered the body of Gilbert Sternroyd.
Quickly I lit my lantern, and by its welcome light stole along, makingno sound. The darkness seemed to envelope me, causing me to fear makingany noise. There was a close, musty smell about the place, a combinedodour of dirt and mildew; but as I flashed my lamp hither and thitherinto the most distant corners, I was surprised to discover the size ofthe hall, the magnificence of the great crystal chandelier, and thebeauty of the crystal balustrades and banisters of the wide handsomestaircase. The paintings in the hall were old family portraits, butover them many spiders had spun their webs, which also waved in festoonsfrom the chandelier and from the ceiling. Years must have elapsed sincethe place had been cleaned, yet it was strange, for on my visit on thenight of Sybil's death I had not noticed these signs of neglect.
The place had then been brilliantly lit; now all was dark, squalid, andfunereal.
Room after room on the ground floor I entered. The doors of most ofthem were open, but all the apartments were encrusted by the dust andcobwebs of years. The furniture, some of it green with mildew, wasslowly decaying, the hangings had in many places rotted and fallen,while the lace curtains that still remained at the closely-shutteredwindows, were perfectly black with age.
It was a house full of grim shadows of the past. The furniture, of astyle in vogue a century ago, was handsome and costly, but irretrievablyruined by neglect. Fully half an hour I occupied in exploring thebasement and ground-floor, then slowly I ascended the wide staircase insearch of the well-remembered room wherein I had unwittingly been one ofthe contracting parties to as strange a marriage ceremony as had everbeen performed.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
IN SILENT COMPANY.
As I ascended, my feet fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet, raisingclouds of dust, the particles of which danced in the bright ray from mylamp, like motes in a streak of sunlight. The ceiling of the hall hadbeen beautifully painted, but portions of it had now fallen away,revealing ugly holes and naked laths.
The first room I entered on reaching the landing was, I discovered, thesmall study into which I had been ushered on that night. It was muchcleaner than the other apartments, but, on going to the grate andbending to examine it, I found the chimney still closed by an ironplate, and in the fireplace there remained a quantity of burnt charcoal.It was covered with dust, and was no doubt the same that had been usedto render me unconscious. The window, too, was shuttered and barred,and on the door-lintel I could still trace where the crevices had beenstopped.
As I turned, after examining the room thoroughly, I saw, standing on asmall table near the window, a cheap photograph frame in carved whitewood. The portrait was of an old lady, and did not interest me, but theframe riveted my attention. I recognised it. Across the top it had thesingle word "Luchon" carved. I took it up and examined it closely.Yes! It had belonged to Sybil. I had been with her when, attracted byits quaintness, she had purchased it for three francs.
As I put it down there surged through my mind a flood of memories ofthose pleasant bygone days. Suddenly a sound caused me to start.
Not daring to move, I listened. It was the rustle of silk! Some onewas ascending the stairs!
In an instant I blew out my light, and waited just inside the door. Thenoise approached rapidly, and in a few moments a slim, graceful woman,in an evening gown, and carrying in her hand a red-shaded lamp, passedthe door.
As she went by the crimson glow did not sufficiently illuminate herface, but her appearance gave me a sudden start. Had she entered withsinister design; or was this weird, neglected place her home? Thinkingonly of the elucidation of the mystery that had surrounded Sybil, Icrept on noiselessly after her. Apparently she was no stranger to theplace, for, passing the first room on the left, she entered the second,which proved to be the great drawing-room where I had once stood besidemy lost bride. Passing to the end, her thin evening shoes making nonoise on the thick dust-covered carpet, she crept like a thief to theopposite end of the spacious apartment, and placed the lamp upon alittle table. Then, for the first time, I saw that behind it was adoor, and I crept back into the shadow so that she could not detect mypresence.
For a moment she hesitated, placing her hand upon her breast, as if tostay the wild beating of her heart. Then, slowly and noiselessly, sheturned the handle of the door, and a flood of brilliant light streamedforth.
She peered in, but next second drew back terrified. The scene withinthe room had held her spellbound with horror, which seemed to grasp herheart as if with icy fingers. Her trembling hands tightly clenched, sheprepared to enter. One long, deep breath she drew, and set her teeth indesperation; but at that moment, as with her hand she pushed back thehair from her clammy brow, her face was turned full towards the lamp.
I looked, and stood stupefied. It was Dora!
I sprang forward to arrest her progress, but at that instant a frightfulblow fell upon the back of my skull, crushing me, and I fell senselesslike a log.
How long I remained unconscious, or what events occurred during theoblivion that fell upon me, I have no idea.
My only recollection is that I felt the presence of some person near me,and I heard words uttered. But upon my ears they fell as if spoken sofar away as to be indistinguishable. Scenes strangely distorted, sadand humorous, pleasing and horrible, flitted through my mind as I laydozing, half-conscious, striving to think, but unable even by the dintof greatest effort, to sufficiently collect my senses to reflect withreason.
In this half-dreamy stupor I must have remained a very long time. Hourspassed. I lay as one dead--unable to move, unable to think.
Gradually, however, I found my mind growing clearer. Thoughts, that atfirst were hopelessly mixed, slowly shaped themselves; and I remembertrying to recall the startling events that had preceded the cowardlyblow dealt me by some unknown hand. Thus, painfully and with the utmostdifficulty, I struggled to regain knowledge of things about me.
Opening my eyes at last, I found myself in darkness, save for a glimmerof faint grey light that crept in over the top of what I imagined to beheavy closely-barred shutters. It was about ten o'clock at night when Ihad been struck down; it was now already morning. Stretching forth mycold, nerveless fingers, I groped to feel my surroundings on eitherside, discovering myself still lying on the floor, but whereas thedrawing-room in which I had encountered Dora had been well-carpeted,this room seemed bare, for I was lying upon cold flags. With a suddenmovement I put out my hands and raised my head, in an endeavour toregain my feet. But this action brought vividly to my mind that theinjury I had received was serious.
A pain shot through my head. So excruciating was it that I fainted.
During the hours that followed all was again blank. When I reopened myhot fevered eyes I saw that the streak of dawn--the one welcome ray thatinspired hope within me--was now a thin golden bar of sunshine, thatgave just sufficient light to enable me to distinguish my strangesurroundings. Endeavouring to reflect calmly, my eyes were fixed uponthe blackened ceiling. At first I wondered what had caused it to becomeso sooty, and calculated the number of years during which spiders hadfestooned their dust-laden webs upon it, when suddenly my eyes clearlydistinguished that the ceiling was arched--that it was unplastered, andof bare begrimed brick.
Eagerly I looked on either side. The walls also were of bare brick Iwas in a cellar!
Struggling unsteadily to my feet I stood amazed. Who, I wondered, hadconveyed me to this place? Surely not Dora! If I had been murderouslyattacked, might not she also have fallen a victim? But why had she comehere; by what means had she obtained an entrance? As I recalled thestartling encounter of the previous night I recollected that she hadbeen dressed as if for a dance, and it was therefore probable that shehad slipped away from home on some errand that was imperative. Hervisit there placed a new complexion upon the remarkable current ofcircumstances.
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br /> These and a thousand other puzzling thoughts filled my brain as I stoodin that gloomy, subterranean, vermin-infested place into which I hadbeen thrust. It was not large, but half filled by a great heap oflumber piled up to the roof. There was something about the place that Icould not understand. I felt stifled; my nostrils were filled by astrange sickening odour. Towards the window I walked to obtain freshair, but found what I had at first imagined to be shutters were notshutters at all; the streak of welcome light came through a littlebarred aperture about three inches wide in the pavement above. Thepains in my head caused me giddiness and nausea.
What if I had been imprisoned here? The horrifying prospect of slowstarvation in an empty, deserted house appalled me, and I sprang towardsthe heavy door, that had at some time or other been strengthened bybands of iron.
I turned the handle. It was locked!
Staggering back, I gave vent to an exclamation of despair. The pain inmy skull was terrible, and as I placed my hand at the back of my head Ifelt my hair stiff and