Chapter XII.
Sir William heard the knocking again, sat up and rubbed his eyes, stared at the door for a minute, recovering his wits, then marched across and opened it wide. ‘Hello!’ he cried, as the bedraggled pair staggered past him into the room. ‘And where the devil have you two been?’ He followed them across to the fire.
‘It’s a long story,’ Penderel began; his face was pale and a little drawn, but his eyes were dancing.
‘Then cut it short,’ Sir William growled. What a wild young devil he looks, he told himself; something between a gunman and a fiddler.
Penderel was busy taking off his boots. ‘Well, you see, I went out to Waverton’s car to get my flask——’
Here Gladys broke in: ‘And I went with him to the door, and then I was shut out and couldn’t get in, and so I found him in the car and we sat there and talked.’ She looked at him rather defiantly, very bright-eyed. ‘And we’ve had to wade through a lake to get back.’
Penderel was padding across the room in his stockinged feet, in search of his bag. ‘Why, what’s been happening here?’ he asked.
‘God knows. I don’t. I’ve been hanging about here, waiting for somebody to come or something to happen. And just look at the place. It gets on your nerves. Every time I’ve wakened up I’ve had a shock.’
‘But where are they all?’ Gladys looked bewildered.
‘Don’t ask me. Can’t tell you.’ Sir William blew out his breath impatiently. ‘I’ll tell you what I do know. The lights went out. Waverton and what’s-his-name—Femm—went off to find a lamp. They’re finding it yet. Then that little screeching woman—she’s as mad as a hatter, that woman, and I hope I’ve seen the last of her—well, she wanted someone to shut a window. I did that and listened to her raving. Then she dug out a little lamp and I came back with it. That’s the one.’ He pointed to the tiny oil lamp burning on the table. ‘Good job I brought it, too, or I’d have been in the dark. Well, when I came back, Mrs. Waverton had disappeared. I didn’t want to start roaming round the house, so waited here by the fire. Must have dozed off. Thought I heard a crash somewhere, but may have dreamt it. Woke up though, but nobody came, so dozed off again, and next thing I heard was you knocking.’
Gladys exchanged glances with Penderel, who was coming back with some clothes over his arm. ‘We must investigate this,’ he said cheerfully. He moved over to a door opposite the staircase, to the left of the fireplace, a door that had not been opened yet. ‘I wonder what happens in here. Could I go in, do you think?’
‘Why?’ Gladys was alarmed. ‘What are you going to do?’
He grinned at her. ‘Change my trousers.’ He looked a little longer and his grin changed to a smile. ‘Back in a minute.’ The door closed behind him.
Sir William had turned quickly and was now holding Gladys lightly at arms length. ‘What’s the idea, Gladys? Amusing yourself, or love at first sight?’
She met his look bravely. ‘It’s real, Bill. You won’t mind. You’re too decent—and friendly. You ought to be glad.’
‘Oh!—ought I?—you monkey! Sharp work, I must say. But—tell me—is it—both sides? What about him?’
She nodded gravely. Then suddenly her face lit up, and the sentimental boy who still lived on inside him felt as if he were catching a glimpse of sunrise in a lost world. It was indeed the most exquisite sensation she had ever given him, and he struggled hard not to enjoy it. ‘I can’t begin to tell you——’ she began.
‘Then don’t,’ he broke in, still at odds with himself.
Then he softened: ‘No, go on. Let’s hear all about it.’
She came nearer and put a hand on his arm. ‘There isn’t time. But listen, Bill. It’s no good pretending to be cross. I know you don’t mean it. He’s coming to town, to be with me. I want him to do something, put his back into it, and I know he will. You saw what he was like before, absolutely fed up, not caring a damn about anything. Well, I’m knocking that on the head, knocked it already.’
‘Ah, the old game, eh?’ He chuckled over her. ‘Reforming him already, are we? Then it’s serious.’
‘It is, but it’s going to be a hell of a lark too. Now you’ve got to help. You can easily find him a job, you’ve plenty to spare.’
‘For solid downright cheek,’ he exclaimed, ‘give me a young woman who thinks herself in love.’
‘Now don’t be silly. It isn’t cheek, and you know it’s not. Besides, he’s tremendously clever, you can see that, and full of push and go. Hurry up and say you will, he’s coming back.’
‘Well, I’ll see,’ he muttered, receiving her quick glance of gratitude. ‘I’ll have a talk to him.’ He could see that door opening behind him in her very eyes.
‘The world’s great age begins anew.’ Penderel’s voice rang through that dim place. His sudden high spirits seemed to light it up. ‘Gladys, Sir William, I’ve changed my socks and trousers—in the dark too, mind you—and now I’m a new man. I don’t know what there was in that room. I just stood behind the door. Perhaps it was full of monsters, all watching me. By the way, you’ve been talking about me. I see it written in your faces. Your silence tells me all. I could even guess what you’ve been saying. Here’s the evidence. Sir William knows, in his heart of hearts, that even if he would, I wouldn’t.’
‘You’ve been listening,’ Gladys cried, making a face at him.
‘I only heard three words,’ he replied. ‘The rest was intuition, for which we men are now becoming famous. We may not be able to argue, to debate, to reason, but we know. Well, my first step in this new life is to locate the missing Wavertons. If necessary we could all creep round the house until we heard Waverton’s snore. Then we’ll sing Sir William here to sleep again, and after that, you and I, Gladys, will find a corner and talk and talk, at least I’ll talk and you’ll probably sleep. The dawn, which must be somewhere on its way, will find me talking. Mr. Femm will come down to breakfast—but you can’t imagine him at breakfast, can you?—in fact, you can’t imagine breakfast here at all. Try to think of it.’
‘I can’t,’ said Gladys, decisively. Then, after a short pause, very slowly and clearly she added ‘I hate this house.’
‘Rum old place certainly.’ This from Sir William. Penderel said nothing. He was staring curiously at Gladys, who was strolling away.
She stopped. ‘It’s the worst house I’ve ever been in. And that’s saying a lot, as you’d admit if you knew anything about professional digs. There’s something about it—I dunno—like a bad smell—something putrid.’ She walked on and then stood looking at the staircase.
Sir William took Penderel to one side. ‘No business of mine, of course,’ he said gruffly, ‘but what’s this about you and Gladys?’
‘I’ll let you into the secret,’ Penderel returned gaily. ‘And, by the way, isn’t it funny that officially, according to the book of words, you and I ought to be totally incapable of talking to one another like ordinary human beings? At the very least, we ought to be embarrassed to the stuttering point.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you something.’ Sir William was emphatic. ‘That’s just what I am.’
‘Not you!’ cried Penderel. ‘And I’m not even pretending to be. I’m going to marry Gladys, that is if she’ll have me; I haven’t asked her yet. And that’s the idea.’
‘Most people’d tell you that you were either a fool or a hero,’ Sir William remarked, rather heavily. This rising tide of high spirits made him feel heavy. But he was trying to deal honestly with the youngster, who wasn’t a bad sort in his own scatter-brained fashion. ‘But I don’t say so, though you may be both for all I know. It’ll probably be the best day’s work you’ve done for a damned long time.’
‘It could easily be that and still not be up to much,’ said Penderel. ‘But I know what you mean. And I can’t help feeling——’
But there came an interruption from Gladys, who was still standing near the foot of the stairs. ‘I can hear somebody talking up there,’ she called to them.
Penderel moved a step or two in her direction. ‘That’ll be the Wavertons. They must be introspecting together on one of the upper floors, walking up and down corridors still playing Truth. And quite right too!’
Her hand went up. ‘Hush! I’m trying to listen. They’re coming down, I think. Oh! what’s that?’ They had all heard it—a kind of laugh. And now the Wavertons came running downstairs, pale and dusty and somehow rather tattered.
‘Listen, you fellows.’ Philip hurried across to the two men, and began to gasp out his news.
‘What is it?’ Gladys clutched at Margaret. ‘Tell me quick.’ Something terrible was going to happen, she knew there was. She felt sick. Everything was suddenly falling to pieces.
‘There’s a madman upstairs,’ Margaret cried jerkily. ‘Morgan’s let him out. He’s dangerous. They both are.’
‘Where’s he now?’ She knew, knew there was something, had known it all along.
‘Up there, somewhere.’ Margaret made a little gesture of helplessness. ‘Coming down, perhaps.’
‘We must all get out of the way then. Lock ourselves in somewhere.’
‘He might set fire to the place. He’s tried to do that before.’
‘They can prevent him. Three of them.’ Gladys looked towards the men, and then, moved by a common impulse, they both hurried across. They felt the whole house pressing down upon them.
‘Even if he’s as bad as all that,’ Sir William was saying, ‘the three of us can down him.’ He was quite cool, and evidently—rather to their surprise—a man of courage. But then no imagination was harrying him. He didn’t see the whole fabric of sense and security shredding, rotting away.
‘But there’s Morgan; don’t forget him,’ Philip replied. ‘I’ve had a tussle with him already and was lucky enough to trip him. He was a bit slow and silly, of course. But he’s as strong as a bull. I don’t know what sort of state he’s in now, but he might be as bad as the lunatic—worse.’
‘If the worst came to the worst,’ Sir William said, ‘we could all clear out. In fact the best thing we can do is to get out of the way.’
‘You’re forgetting what Waverton said,’ Penderel put in. ‘I mean about him setting fire to things. This old place’d burn easily, wouldn’t it?’ He looked at Philip.
‘I should think it would. It’s full of rotten old timber. That’s the danger. If he gets down here, left to himself, he could set the whole place going in a jiffy.’
‘Well, let him, I say,’ said Gladys, viciously. ‘Let the rotten old place burn.’
‘No, that’s mad, Gladys,’ Penderel told her.
‘Besides,’ Philip added hastily, ‘there are the other Femms——’
‘Poor old Sir Roderick upstairs, unable to move,’ cried Margaret. ‘It was he who warned us, only just in time too. We can’t leave him.’
Philip and Penderel hastened to agree. Sir William looked at them and then at the stairs. ‘Well, what are we going to do, then?’ he asked. ‘Time’s going. Though nothing’s happened yet. It may be all piffle. All these people here are a bit crazy, so far as I can see.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ Margaret was vehement. ‘Didn’t you hear that horrible laugh? And Philip saw the room.’
Gladys wrung her hands. ‘I’m sure it’s true; I know it is.’ She sought out Penderel with hollowed eyes. ‘Yes, I do. I’ve felt it creeping.’ Then she recovered herself. ‘But we can do something, can’t we?’ It was addressed to him alone, wistfully; the others were nothing.
‘Of course we can,’ he told her. But he felt a sudden ache, and there followed closely upon it a growing anger.
Then they all jumped. A door had been opened, and someone was standing there. It was Miss Femm. How she came to be there, nobody could imagine, but there she was, still fully dressed, peering at them over a stump of candle. They didn’t wait for her to screech out a question. ‘Your brother’s loose!’ cried Philip, who was nearest.
‘What, Saul?’ The name went screaming up.
‘They’re coming down now. Look!’ Gladys cried, pointing. A dark bulk was moving slowly down the stairs, and another behind it, with a vague blur of face turned towards them. The one behind must be Saul. That hand sliding down the banisters was Saul’s. Now it had stopped; but Morgan was still moving, coming down alone.
‘Don’t do anything yet,’ Philip whispered. ‘Morgan may be all right now. We’ll see.’
Morgan reached the bottom, lurched forward a step or two, and then stood still, lowering at them. Such light as there was from the little lamp fell now on his face, which looked horrible—for it was all covered with blood. His hands too seemed to be reddened.
‘Cut himself with that glass,’ Philip whispered again.
‘What’s he going to do?’ This was from Penderel, though he was not looking at Morgan but at that hand which still rested on the banisters.
‘Get back.’ Sir William was motioning to Margaret and Gladys.
Miss Femm had been standing absolutely still, staring fixedly at Morgan. Now she shook her fist at him, and her voice went piercing through them all. ‘Morgan, you brute beast, go away. Hide yourself before God strikes you dead.’
The laugh they had heard before, empty and terrible, rang down from the dim stairs. ‘That’s Rebecca, sister Rebecca. Don’t listen to her, Morgan. She’s been talking to God for years now and He’s never heard her once. He thinks she’s a maggot, a fat little white maggot. He doesn’t know she’s got a soul. She’ll have to die and be born again before He’ll hear her. They’re all maggots—still creeping in the rotting old corpse they call life.’ Saul’s voice thickened with sudden fury. ‘Trample ’em, smash ’em—and then I’ll burn their filthy pulp—leave nothing but ashes—clean ashes—clean, clean, clean!’ After that it was a foul gabble. They had a moment’s vision of a white and blindly working face, pushed out over the banisters into the light, while the voice went gibbering on.
Then there was a little space of silence, during which nobody moved. But it seemed to them as if the ground beneath their feet was sinking, as if they were blackly descending through putrid air.
Now the madman on the stairs spoke again and his mood had suddenly changed; he seemed quietly merry. ‘No, Morgan, old flesh and bone, wait, wait for me.’ They saw the hand disappear. ‘Still something yet to do. Then we’ll finish it together.’ A stir in the shadows, a creak or two from the stairs, and he was gone.
Instead of waiting, however, Morgan, who had been standing there, glowering at Philip, was suddenly quickened into life. With a hoarse cry, he charged across, straight at Philip, like a mastodon. There was just time for Philip to swing aside and escape the full weight of the charge, and the next moment they were all struggling together. Sir William was hanging on to one great arm and shoulder, and Philip on to the other.
‘Get him in there,’ screamed Miss Femm, as they went desperately swaying. ‘You can shut him up.’ She was pointing to the door through which she had come.
Penderel made up his mind now, and there was no time to be lost. He threw himself at Morgan, who went rolling back with the other two still clinging to him. ‘Can you do that?’ he cried to them, as he pushed at the struggling giant. ‘Shall I knock him on the head?’
‘We’ll manage,’ Philip gasped. They were now near the door, which Miss Femm had flung wide open. A tremendous heave of Morgan’s right arm sent Philip flying back, but he quickly recovered himself and sent his fist, with all his weight behind it, crashing into Morgan’s face. The man spun round, sending Sir William, pale now and dripping with sweat but still game, banging into the doorway. Philip grabbed at the loose arm and savagely twisted it behind its owner’s back, at the same time charging forward. ‘Rush him down the corridor,’ he cried to Sir William. They disappeared through the doorway, into the dark.
Miss Femm stood there, holding the door with one hand and her lighted candle held high in the other. ‘Come on, you,’ she screeched at Margaret and Gladys. ‘In here with me.’
Margaret, who had faltered forward, looked at her with horror and could not find her voice.
‘No, no!’ Gladys cried, looking from her to Penderel.
Miss Femm stepped back. ‘Then stay there. Sluts!’ she yelled. She banged the door behind her and they heard her lock it.
Margaret ran forward, crying ‘She’s locked it. And Philip’s there, Philip!’ Her hands were fumbling at the door now.
‘It’s done now. Come away.’ Penderel was at her side, though his eyes were on Gladys.
‘But Philip’s in there, with that man,’ she cried again. Then she turned on him, with a flash of scorn: ‘And what are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to wait here—for the other man,’ he told them very quietly.
Gladys was clutching his arm. ‘No, no, you can’t. Come away.’
‘Listen, there’s no time to waste,’ he said, and as he spoke he hustled them across the room. ‘I must wait here until they’ve got Morgan safely tucked away. He may be down any moment. And you’ve got to be out of the way.’
‘I’ll stay,’ Gladys cried chokingly.
‘You can’t, my dear,’ he told her. ‘And we must hurry.’
They were at the other side of the room now. ‘But where can we go?’ Margaret was asking, looking at him piteously.
‘In there.’ He pointed to the door that he had opened before, when he had been changing his clothes. He remembered that there was a key on the inside. Now he ran forward, took it out, and then swept them in, Margaret first. For one brief moment his arm was round Gladys. ‘Sorry there’s no light for you. Yes, there is, though.’ He rushed away and then returned carrying the candle that Philip had had, now guttering sadly, and thrust it into Gladys’s hand. ‘You’ll be all right in there.’ His eyes dwelt on her face as if he was trying to remember it for ever. ‘Quite all right. Cheerio!’
Before they could do or say anything more he had closed the door and locked them in, leaving the key in the lock. If he left them free to rush out, anything might happen. He walked very slowly and quietly back into the middle of the hall, looking up at the stairs and listening.