 Chapter 1 of The Dark House Chapter 1 Number 9a Albemarle Square Don't drink our sherry, Charles. Mr Preenham, the butler, stood by the table in the gloomy servants hall, as if he had received a shock. No, sir. I took him up the beer at first, and they shook their heads and asked for wine. And when I took him the sherry, they shook their heads again. And the one who speaks English said, they want Chianti. Well, all I've got to say, exclaim the poorly cooked, is that if I had known what was going to take place, I wouldn't have stopped an hour after the old man died. It's wicked. And something awful will happen, as sure as my name's Thompson. Don't say that, Mrs Thompson, said the mild-looking butler. It is very dreadful, though. Dreadful isn't the word. Are we ancient Egyptians? I declare ever since them high-tallians had been in the house, going about like three dark conspirators in a play. I've had the creeps. I say it didn't ought to be allowed. What am I to say to them, sir? said the footman, a strongly-built man with shifty eyes and quickly-twitching lips. Well, look here, Charles, said the butler, slowly wiping his mouth with his hand. We have no Chianti wine. You must take them a bottle of chamberton. My ejaculated cook. Chamberton, sir. It's Mr Goetel's orders. They've come here straight from Paris on purpose, and they ought to have everything they want. The butler left the gloomy room, and Mrs Thompson, a stout lady who moved only when she was obliged, turned to the thin, elderly housemaid. Mark my words, Anne, she said. It's contrary to nature, and it'll bring a curse. Well, said the woman, it can't make the house more dull than it has been. I don't know, said the cook. I never see a house before where there was no need to shut the shutters and pull down the blinds because someone's dead. Well, it is a gloomy place, Anne, but we've done all these years most as we liked. One meal a day, and the rest at his club, and never any company. There aren't many places like that. No, side, Anne. I suppose we shall all have to go. Oh, I don't know, my dear. Mr Ramo says he thinks Masters left all his money to his great-nephew, Mr Capel, and maybe he'll have the house painted up, and the rooms cleaned, and keep lots of company. And he may marry Miss Dungeon. Ain't her name? D-E-N-G-H-I-E-N, said the housemaid, spelling it slowly. I don't know what you call it. She's very handsome, but so naughty. I like Miss Lawrence, only to think Master never seeing a soul and living all these years in this great shut-up house, and then, as soon as the breath's out of his body, all these relatives turning up. Where the carcass is, there the eagles are gathered together, said Cook solemnly. Oh, don't talk like that, Cook. You're not obliged to listen, my dear, said Cook, rubbing her knees gently. I declare it's been grievous to me, continued the housemaid, all those beautiful rooms full of splendid furniture, and one not allowed to do more than keep them just clean, not a blind drawn up or a window open. It's always been as if there was a funeral in the house. Think Master was crossed in love. No, not he. Mr. Ramo said that Master was twice over married to great Indian princesses abroad. I suppose they left him all their money. Oh, here is Mr. Ramo. The door had opened, and a tall, thin old Hindu with piercing dark eyes and wrinkled brown face came softly in. He was dressed in a long, dark, red, silken cassock that seemed as if woven in one piece and fitted his bare form rather closely from neck to heel. A white cloth girdle was tied round his waist, and for sole ornament there were a couple of plain gold rings in his ears. As he entered he raised his thin, largely veined brown hands, to his closely cropped head, half-making the native salon, and then said in good English, Mr. Prunam, not here. He'll be back directly, Mr. Ramo, said the cook. There, there, do sit down. You look worn out. The Hindu shook his head and walked to the window, which looked out into an inner area. At that moment the butler entered, and the Hindu turned to him quickly and laid his hand upon his arm. There, there, don't fret about it, Mr. Ramo, said the butler. It's what we must all come to some day. Yes, but this, this, said the Hindu in a low, excited voice. Is, is it right? The butler was silent for a few moments. Well, he said at last, it's right and it's wrong, as you may say. It's master's own orders, for there it was in his own handwriting in his desk. Instructions for my solicitor. Mr. Goetel showed it me, being an old family servant. Yes, yes, he showed it to me. Oh, it was all there, continued the butler. Well, as I was saying, it's right so far, but it's wrong, because it's not like a Christian burial. No, no, cried the Hindu excitedly. Those men, they make me mad. I cannot bear it. Look, he cried. He should have died out in my country, where we would have laid him on sweet-centred woods and baskets of spices and gums, and there where the sun shines and the palm trees wave. I, his old servant, would have fired the pile, and he would have risen up in the clouds of smoke and among the pure clear flames of fire, till nothing but the ashes was left. Yes, yes, that would have been his end, he cried, with flashing eyes as he seemed to mentally picture the scene, and then those servant could have died with thee. Oh, sahib, sahib, sahib. He clasped his hands together. The fire died from his eyes, which became suffused with tears, and as he uttered the last word thrice in a low, moaning voice, he stood rocking himself, to and through. The two women looked horrified and shuddered, but the piteous grief was magnetic, and in the deep silence that fell they began to sob, while the butler blew his nose softly, coughed, and at last laid his hand upon the old servant's shoulder. Shake hands, Mr Ramo, he said huskily. Fifteen years you and me's been together, and if we haven't hit it as we might, well, it was only natural, me being an Englishman and you almost a black, but it's this as brings us all together, natives and foreigners and all. He was a good master, God bless him, and I'm sorry he's gone. The old Indian looked up at him half-wonderingly for a few moments, then, taking the extended hand in both of his, he held it for a time, and pressed it to his heart, dropped it, and turned to go. Won't you take something, Mr Ramo? No, no, said the Indian, shaking his head, and he glided softly out of the servant's hall, when silently in his soft yellow leather slippers, down a long passage and up a flight of stone stairs, to pass through a glass door, and stand in the large gloomy hall, in the middle of one of the marble squares, that turn the floor into a vast chessboard, round which the giant pieces seem to be waiting to commence the game. For the faint light that came through the thick ground glass fan light over the great double doors, was diffused among black bronze statues and white marble figures of Greek and Roman knights. In one place, seated meditatively, with hands resting upon the knees, there was an Indian God, seeming to watch the floor. In another, a great Japanese warrior, walled towards the bottom of the great winding staircase, whose stone steps were covered with heavy dark carpet, was a marble that imagination might easily have taken for a queen. Here and there, the panelled walls were ornamented with stands of Indian arms and armour, conical helmets once worn by Eastern chiefs with pendant curtains and suits of chained mail, bloodthirsty daggers, curved scimitars, spears, clumsy match locks, and long straight swords, whose hilt was an iron gauntlet in which the warrior's fingers were laced as they grasped a handle placed at right angles to the blade. After the fashion of his fade, there were shields too, and bows and arrows, and tailwars and cookries, any number of warlike implements from the east. While beside the statues, the West had to show some curious chairs and a full length portrait of an English man in the prime of life, a handsome, bold-faced man in the uniform of one of John Company's regiments, his helmet in his hand and his breast adorned with orders and jewels of foreign make. The old Indian servant stood there like one of the statues, as the dining room door opened and three dark, closely shaven and moustached men in black came out softly and went silently up the stairs. There was something singly, furtive, and strange about them as they followed one another in silence. All three alike in their dress coats and turned down white collars, beneath which was a narrow strip of ribbon knotted in front. They passed on and on up the great winding stairs, passed the drawing room. From whence came the low buzz of voices to a door at the back of the house beside a great stained glass window whose weird lights shone down upon a lion skin rug. Here the first man stopped for his companions to reach his side. Then whispering a few words to them, he took a key from his pocket, opened the door, withdrew the key, and entered the darkened room, closing and locking the door as the old Indian crept softly up, sunk upon his knees upon the skin rug, his hands clasped, his head bent down, and resting against the panels of the door. End of Chapter 1, Chapter 2 of The Dark House This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Dark House by George Manville Fenn. Chapter 2 The Dead Man's Relatives I can tell you very little, Mr. Capel. I have been your great-uncle's confidential solicitor ever since he returned from India. I was a mere boy when he went away. He knew me then, and when he came back, he sought me out. And that is 25 years ago, Mr. Gertle? Yes, the year you were born. And he made you his confidant? Yes, he gave me his confidants, as far as I think he gave it to any man. And he did always live in this way. Always. He filled up the house with the vast collection of curiosities and things that he had been sending home for years, and I expected that he would entertain and lead the life of an English gentleman. But no, the house has been closed for 25 years. Mr. Gertle, a clean-shaven, old gentleman, with yellow-faced, dark, restless eyes and bright grey hair, took a pinch of snuff from a handsome gold box, flicked a few grains from his white shirt front, and said, Had my uncle met with any great disappointment, said the first speaker, a frank-looking man with closely curling brown hair, and a high white forehead. What, to make him take to this strange life? Oh, no, he was peculiar, but not unhappy. He liked to be alone, but he was always bright and cheerful at his club. You met him there, then? Said a fresh voice and a handsome, dark young fellow who had been leaning back in an easy chair in the dim-drawing room, sat up quickly, playing with his little black moustache. Oh, yes, I used to dine with Colonel Capel when we had business to transact. But he used say he led the life of a miser, continued the young man, crossing his legs and examining the toe of his patent leather boot. I beg your pardon, Mr. Gerard Artis, I did not say that. Your great-uncle was no miser. He spent money freely, sometimes in charities. Yes, he continued, turning to where two ladies were seated. Colonel Capel was often very charitable. I never saw his name in any charitable list, said the darker of the two ladies, speaking in a sweet, silvery voice, and her beautiful, regular features seemed to attract both the previous speakers. No, Miss D'Angam, I suppose not, said the old man, nodding his head and rising to begin walking up and down, snuck-box in hand. Neither did I, but he was very charitable in his own particular way, and he was very kind. Yes, said the young man who had first spoken, very kind. I have him to thank for my school and college education. Well, yes, said the lawyer, I suppose it is no breach of confidence to say that he's so. And I have to thank him for mine and the pleasant life I have led. Mr. Gertle, have I not? said the second of the ladies, but for the gloom, the flush that came into a sweet face would have been plainly visible. At that moment the footman entered with a letter upon a massive solver. And as he walked straight to the old lawyer, he cast quick thirty glances at the other occupants of the room. A note, A, said the old solicitor, balancing his gold rim-glasses upon his nose. Yes, exactly, very delicate of them to write. Tell them I will see them shortly, Charles. The footman bowed and was retiring as silently as he came over the soft carpet, when he was checked by the old solicitor. You will tell Mr. Prenum to see that these gentlemen have every attention. Yes, sir. The footman left the room almost without a sound, for the door was opened and closed noiselessly. The only thing that broke the terrible silence that seemed to rain was the faint click of the silver tray against one of the metal buttons of the man's coat. As for the magnificently furnished room with its heavy curtains and drawn down blinds, it seemed to have grown darker so that the faint gleams of light that had hung in a dull way on the faces of the great mirrors and the gilded carving of Consol and Chevenere had died out. It required no great effort at the imagination to believe that the influence of the dead man who had passed so many solitary years in that shut-up house was still among them, making itself felt with weight from which they could not free themselves. Paul Cappell looked across at the beautiful face of Catrine Dienham, thinking of a creole extraction and the half-French, half-American father who had married his relative. He expected to see her looking agitated as her cousin, Lydia Lawrence, but she sat back with one arm gracefully hanging over the side of the chair. Her lustrous eyes half-closed, and a pang strongly akin to jealousy shot through him as it seemed that those eyes were resting on the young, elegant at his side. Yes, said the old solicitor, suddenly, and his voice made all start, but Miss Dienham, who did not even move her eyelids, as I was saying, he went on, tapping his snuffbox. I can tell you very little, Mr. Cappell, until the wheel is read. Then there is a wheel, said Miss Dienham. The old lawyer's brows wrinkled as he glanced at her in surprise. Yes, my dear young lady, there is a wheel. And it will be read, of course, directly after the funeral, said the dark young man. The lawyer did not reply. I suppose you think it's bad form of a man asking such questions now, but really, Mr. Gertle, it would be worse form for a fellow to be pulling a long face about one he never saw. But he was your father's friend. Oh yes, of course. Hence you, sir, are here, continued the lawyer. My instructions were clear enough. I was to invite you here at this painful time and take my old friend's place as your host. You have been most kind, Mr. Gertle, said Miss Dienham. I thank you, madam, and I agree that you should have to present at so painful a time. My next instructions were to send for the Italian professor, who is here to carry out the wishes of the deceased. Horrible idea for a man to wish to be in bond, said Artis, brutally. Lydia Lawrence shuddered and turned away her face. Paul Capel glanced indignantly at the speaker and then turned to gaze at Catrine Dienham, who sat perfectly unmoved, her hand still hanging from the side of the chair, as if to show the graceful contour of her arm. Colonel Capel had been a great part of his life. In the East, Mr. Artis said the old lawyer coagly. He had had the matter in his mind for some time. How do you know that? By the date on my instructions, which also contained the Italian professor's card. And I suppose we shall have a very eccentric will, sir. Yes, said the lawyer quietly, a very eccentric will. Come, that's refreshing, said the young man, with a fidgety movement. Well, you are not very communicative, Mr. Gertle. You family solicitors are as close as your deed boxes. Yes, said the old lawyer, closing his gold snuff box with a loud snap. Well, come, it can be no breach of confidence to tell us when the funeral is to be. The old lawyer took a turn or two up and down the room, snuff box in hand, the bright metal glistening as he swung his hand to and fro. Then he stopped short and said slowly, The successor to Colonel Capel's enormous property will inherit under extremely peculiar conditions. Dually set forth in the will, it will be my duty to read to you. After the funeral, said Gerard Artis, No, sir, there will be no funeral. No funeral exclaimed Artis and Paul Capel in a breath, and then they rose to their feet, startled more than they would have cared to own. For at that moment a strange wild cry seemed to come from the staircase, followed by a heavy crash. Good heavens cried the old lawyer, dropping his snuff box. Catrine Diengan alone remained unmoved, with her head turned towards the door. End of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 of The Dark House. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Dark House by George Manuel Fenn. Chapter 3. One Guardian of the Treasure. Paul Capel was the first to recover from the surprise, and to hurry from the darkened room, followed by Artis and the late Colonel's solicitor, though it was into no blaze of light, for the staircase was equally gloomy. The source of the strange noise was not far to seek, for as they reached the landing, they became aware that a fierce struggle was going on in the direction of the room, occupied by the late Colonel, and hurrying there, it was to find two men locked together, one of whom was succeeding in holding the other down, and wrestling his neck from the sinewy hands which had torn off his white cravat. Why, Charles Ramo exclaimed Mr. Goetel, in the midst of the horse, panting sounds uttered by the contending men. He's mad, cried the former, in a high-pitched tone, in which a man's rage was mingled with a skill-boy's whimpering fear. He's mad, sir, he tried to strangle me. Thief, dog, panted the old Hindu, with his dark features convulsed with passion, wanted Rob, his master. The two young men had separated the combatants, who now stood up, the foot man, his vest and shirt torn open, and his coat dragged half off, the old man with one sleeve of his dark silk robe gone, and the back brink to the waist, while there was a fierce vindictive look in his working features, as he had to be held to keep him from closing with the foot man again. What does this mean, Charles, cried Mr. Goetel, as the butler and the other servants came hurrying up, while the three Italians also stood upon the landing, looking, wonderingly, on. If you please, sir, I don't know, said the foot man, in an ill-used tone. I was just going by the colonel's door, and I thought, as was very natural, that I should like to see what these gentlemen had done, when Mr. Ramos sprung at me like a wild pat. No, no, cried the old Indian, whose English in his rage and excitement was less distinct. A thief, come to Rob, my dear Lord, a thief. I hope so, said the foot man, growing calmer and looking in a ninja way at Mr. Goetel. You know me better than that, sir. Mr. Prenham here will tell you I've cleaned the plate regular all the ten years I've been here. The old solicitor turned to the butler. Yes, sir, Charles's duty has been to clean the plate, but it is in my charge, and I have kept the strictest account of it. A little dispose to show temper sometimes, sir, but strictly honest and very clean. This is very sad and unseemly business at such a time, said Mr. Goetel. Ramos, you have made a mistake. No, no, cried the old Indian wrathfully. Come, come, said Mr. Goetel, be reasonable. The police panted the old Indian, send for the police. All right, cried Charles defiantly, send for the police and let him search me. Silence, cried Mr. Goetel, go down and arrange your dress suit. Mr. Capow, young ladies, will you return to the drawing room? Signoree, will you retire? That will do, Prenham. Leave Ramos to me. In another minute, the old solicitor was left with Ramos, who stood beneath the dim-stone glass window with his arms folded and his brow knit. You do not trust and believe me, sir? Don't talk nonsense, Ramos. You know I trust you as the most faithful fellow in the world. He held out his hand as he spoke, but the old Indian remained motionless for the moment, then, seizing the hand extended to him, he bent over it, holding it to his breast. My dear Lord's old friend, he said, That's better, Ramos, said Mr. Goetel. Now, go and change your dress. No, no, cried the old man. I must watch. Nonsense, man. Don't think that everyone who comes means to rob. But I do, cried the old Indian in a whisper. They think of what we know, you and I only, those foreign men, the servants. You must not be so suspicious, Ramos. It will be all right. It will not be all right, Saheb, cried the old Indian. Think of what there is in Yonder. But we have the secret, Ramos. Yes, yes, but suppose there were others who knew the secret, who had heard of it. Saheb, I will be faithful to the dead. The old Indian drew himself up with dignity and took his place once more before the door. It has been shocking, whispered the Indian, I have been driven away, while those foreign men did what they pleased in there. It was maddening, eh? He clapped his hands to his head. What now, Ramos? Those three men, suppose, he caught at his companion's arm, whispered a few words, and they entered the darkened room, from which, as the door opened and closed, a peculiar aromatic odour floated out. As the door was closed, the sound of a bolt being shot inside was heard, and directly after the face of Charles, the footman appeared from the gloom below. He came up the stairs rapidly, glanced round and stepped softly to the closed door, where he bent down, listening. As he stood in the recess, the gloom was so great that he was almost invisible, save his face, while just beyond him, a large group in bronze of a club armed centur, seemed to have the crouching man as part of the artist's design. The centur, being apparently about to strike him down, while to give realism to the scene, a dull red glow from the stained glass window fell across his forehead. As he listened there, his ear to the keyhole, and his eyes watchfully wandering up and down the staircase, a dull and smothered cling was heard as if in the distance, like the closing of some heavy iron door. Then there was a louder sound, with a quick short report, as if the powerful spring had been set in motion and shot home. Then a door seemed to be closed and locked, and the man glided quickly over the soft thick carpet, melting away, as if it were in the gloom. The door opened, and from the darkness within, Mr. Goetel and the old Indian stepped slowly out, bringing with them a soft, warm puff of the aromatic odour, and as they grew more distinct in the faint light of the stained glass window, everything was so still in the great house that there was a strange unreality about them, fostered by the silence of their tread. There, now you are satisfied, said the old Gloria gently, go and change your robe. The Indian shook his head, I will stay till you return inside the room. Inside, said the Indian. Yes, why not? You and I have reached the time of life, when death has ceased to have terrors. He is only taking the sleep that comes to all. There was a gentle sadness in the Gloria's voice, and then, turning the handle of the door, he opened it and stood looking back. You will not belong, he said. They are waiting for me in the drawing room. The door closed just as the old Indian made a step forward to follow, then he stood with his hands clenched and eyes starting listening intently, while the centuries club seemed to be quivering in the gloom, ready to crush him down. The old man raised his hand to the door, let it fall, raised it again, let it fall, turned to go, started back, and then, as if fighting hard with himself, he turned once more, and with an activity not to be expected in one of his years, bounded up the staircase and disappeared. Ten minutes had not elapsed before he seemed to come silently out of the gloom again, and was halfway to the door, when there was a faint creak from below, as if from a rusty hinge. The old man stopped short, crouching down by the balustrade, listening his eyes shining in the dim twilight, but no other sound was heard, and he rose quickly, ran softly down, and with trembling hands opened the door. Mr. Goetel came slowly out, looking sad and depressed, and laid his hand upon the Indian's shoulder. You mean to watch, then, he said? The Indian nodded quickly, his eyes gazing searchily at the lawyer the while. Are you going in or here? My place was at Saheb's door. Good, said the solicitor, bowing his head, and he returned to the drawing room, Ramo watching him suspiciously till the door closed. As he stood there, the dusky tint of the robe he now wore seemed to lend itself to the surrounding gloom, being almost invisible against the portal, as he remained there with his fingers nervously quivering, and his face drawn by the agitation of his breast. He shook his head violently the next moment, clasped his hands together, and sunk down once more upon the lion-skin mat, bent to the floor, more like some rounded mass than a human being, while the great senturer was instinctly seen, with his raised club as if about to repeat the blow that had crushed the old Indian into emotionless heap. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of The Dark House This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Dark House by George Manuel Fenn. Chapter 4. The Lawyer's Ting Box This has been a terrible week, Catherine, said Lydia Lawrence, taking her cousin's hand. Do you think so? Oh, yes, I have not your sang froid. I would give anything to go back to the country. I have been curious to know all about the will, that old man has been maddening. He might have spoken. But his instructions clear. This will was to be read after he had lain there a week. Lain in state, said Catherine, with the curl of her lip, with the savage crouching on a lion's skin at his door like some dog. It is absurd. More like a scent in a French play than a bit of 19th century life. Lydia sighed. I felt greatly relieved when those dreadful men had gone. What, the Italian professors, phew, what a child you are. I did not mind. Lydia gazed at her with a feeling of shrinking wonder, and there was something almost fierce in the beautiful eyes, as Catherine sat there by one of the tables of the ill-lit, drawing room. The two pairs of wax candles in old-fashioned silver sticks seeming to emit but a feeble light, and but for the warm glow of the fire, the great room would have been somber in the extreme. What time is it, Lydia? There, don't start like that. What a kitten you are. You spoke so suddenly, dear. It is half past ten. Only half past ten. Nearly an hour and a half before the play begins. I wish we had kept the tea things. Pray, don't speak so lightly, Catherine. I can't help it. It is so absurd for the old man to have left instructions through all this meritorious romance to surround his end. As the old girdle, he seems to delight in it, and goes about the house, rubbing his hands like an undertaker. Catherine, well, he does. We'll read at half past eleven at night on the tenth day after the old man's death. It is absurd. Ah, well, I suppose a millionaire has a right to be eccentric if he likes. Dear Catherine, he was always so good. Good, but what did he ever do for me? He hated my branch of the family and our Creole blood, as if the D'Engines were not a fine old French family before the Capels were heard of. But, Catherine, I will speak. I was dragged here to be present at this mummery to have for my share a hundred pounds to buy morning, and I vow I'll spend it in Chinese morning and wear yellow instead of black. Why don't those men come up instead of sitting smoking in that dining room and leaving us alone in this mausoleum of the place? Here ring and send for them. I'm getting nervous too. I'm catching it from you, with little baby that you are. At that moment the door opened, and the two young men entered to go up to them, both speaking to Lydia, and then drawing their chairs nearer to Catherine. Are you nearly ready for the play, Mr Capel? She said after a time. The play, he exclaimed. Yes, the curtain will rise directly. How do you feel, Gerard? Oh, I don't know. I want to hear how many chips the old boy has let me. She's glad to get out of this tomb. I say, would you mind me lighting a cigar? I don't mind, said Catherine lightly. Would you mind, Miss Lawrence? Mind you're smoking here, said Lydia hostily. I don't think I should, but... No, no, said Capel. It is impossible. For heaven's sake, pay a little respect to the ladies if you cannot to the dead. Artis started to his feet. Look here, poor Capel. He cried angrily. You have taken upon yourself several times since I have been locked up here with you to use confoundly offensive language to me. How dare you speak to me like that? Dare, cried Capel, rising. Pooh, he ejaculated, throwing himself back and glancing at Catherine, whose eyes seemed to flash with eager pleasure, while Lydia, half-rose, with extended hands, I am forgetting myself. Lydia sank back with a sigh while Catherine's eyes flashed and her lip curled. Forgetting yourself, cried Artis. By Job, sir, you've done nothing else. I suppose you expect to have all the old man's money, but we shall see. Don't be alarmed, Miss Lawrence, said Capel, smiling. I am not going to quarrel. Ah, here is Mr. Girtle. The door opened and Charles entered with two more lighted candles, one in each hand, proceeding Mr. Girtle, who came in bearing a large, tin-deed box. This he slowly proceeded to place upon the carpet beside a small cable, on which Charles deposited the candle sticks. I think I am punctual, said the lawyer, taking his old gold watch from his fob and replacing it with a nod. Yes, nearly half-past eleven. Charles, will you summon all the servants? I think everyone is mentioned in the will, he added, as Charles left the room. You will excuse all formalities. I am strictly obeying instructions as to time and place. The old gentleman took a jingling bunch of keys from his pocket, bent down and opened the tin-box, from which he took out a square-folded parchment, crossed with broad green ribbons, and bearing a great seal. This he laid upon the table before him and, sinking back in his chair, proceeded to deliberately take snuff. A dead silence reigned, and, in spite of himself, Paul Capel felt agitated and sought from time to time to catch Catrine's eye, while Lydia looked from one to the other sadly, and Gerard Artis lay back in his chair. The door once more opened and the servants filed in, led by Prenum, the butler, Ramo, coming last, to stand with his arms folded and his head bent down upon his chest. These seated, said Mr. Gertel, and his voice sounded solemn and strange. There was a rustling as the servants sat down in a row near the door, Ramo doubling his legs beneath him and crouching on the floor. The last will and testament of John Arthur Capel laid colonel in the Honourable East Indian Company Service, special commissioner with Her Highness the Rani of Ilehad, resident at the court of Her Highness the Bigum of Rehambad. So read the confidential solicitor and friend of the deceased in a husky voice, his gold-green glasses helping him to decipher the brown writing or endorsement of the yellow parchment. Then he continued, I have followed out the instructions of the deceased to the letter so far, and now, in continuance of these instructions in your presence, I proceed to break this seal. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of The Dark House This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Dark House by George Manuel Fenn Chapter 5 The Reading of the Will There was a peculiar ruffle in the gloomy room, a faint sound as of catching of the breath, and above all the sharp crackle of the broken wax as the seal was demolished and the green ribbon thrown aside. Then after a prefatory hymn, the old gloria proceeded to read the will, which was in the customary form and begun with a series of bequests to the old and faithful servants of the house. In respect of his services and so that there should be no jealous feelings as to the amounts, he left each sum of 500 pounds free of duty and 10 pounds to each to buy morning. To my old and faithful servant companion and friend, read on the solicitor, Ramo L.E.G., 250 pounds per annum for the rest of his natural life, the same to be secured in 3% consuls, reverting at his death, as herein after stated. Ramo did not move or utter a word. To my old friend and advisor, Joshua Goetel of the Inner Temple, the plain gold signet ring on the fourth finger of my left hand, then followed a few more minor bequests and instructions of a very simple nature, ending one long paragraph in the will. And as Mr. Goetel removed his glasses and proceeded deliberately to wipe them, the servants took advantage of the gloom where they sat to give each other a congratulatory shake of the hand. I now come to the important bequests, said Mr. Goetel, rebalancing his glasses in his calm, deliberate way. To Catherine L.E. D'Angam, daughter of my niece Harriet D'Angam, formerly Capel, the gold bangle presented to me by the Rani and £100 free of duty to buy morning. There, what did I tell you? said Catherine in a low, sweet voice, as she smiled at her companions. To Gerard Artis, son of my cousin William Artis, read on Mr. Goetel in the same monotonous, unmoved way, and then he stopped to draw one of the candles forward in front of the parchment. The young man shifted his position uneasily and drew in his breath quickly as he thought of the testitor's immense wealth and glanced at Catherine. I shall not get all, he thought, for he will leave something to pull Capel. Then, after what seemed an age of suspense, the old solicitor went on. The sum of £100 free of duty to buy morning. There was a death like stillness as the lawyer paused. Go on, sir, go on, cried Artis, in a harsh voice. To Lydia Alutia, no, no, finished the bequest to me. I did, sir, £100 to buy morning. What? treat me worse than his servants? I believe, Mr. Artis, if you will excuse me, the testitor has a perfect right to do what he likes with his own. Then you influenced him, cried Artis furiously. I shall dispute the will. The old gentleman smiled. Influenced my old friend to leave me his signet ring, ah, Mr. Artis? No, sir, the will was written by Colonel Capel himself, and afterwards transferred to parchment. If you will allow me, I will proceed. I shall dispute the will. I say so at once, cried Artis. That there may be no mistake. £100 each to Mr. Ingham and myself. It is absurd, poultry, pitiful. You never saw the testitor, Mr. Artis? No, sir, neither did you, Mr. Ingham. I owe no. He told me himself, continued the old lawyer, that he had never seen either Miss Lawrence or Mr. Paul Capel. Lydia murmured an ascent. No, said Capel, who felt a furious oppression at the chest. I never saw my great uncle. I never even heard from or wrote to him. May I ask why? I knew he was reported to be immensely rich, and, well, I felt that he might think I was trying to curry favour. Let me see, Mr. Artis. I think the deceased did pay your debts. Is this meant for an insult, sir? No, sir, it was a business-like defence of my old friend's memory to proceed. To Lydia Alicia Lawrence, my grand-niece, £25,000 free of duty, the same to be invested in consuls, and if she marries to be secured by marriage settlements to herself and children. There was a buzz of congratulation here as the old solicitor once more wiped his glasses and arranged them and the candles, while in spite of his endeavours to preserve his calmness, Paul Capel, the only one present yet unmentioned, felt the oppression increasing, and in the air in the great gloomy room seemed to have become thick and hard to breathe. He was as if in a dream as the lawyer went on. To Paul Capel, son of my nephew, Paul Capel, I leave my free-hold house and furniture, the library, plate, pictures, statues, bronzes, and curios, conditionally that the house be kept during his lifetime in the same state as it is now. conditionally also that my body, after embalming, according to my instructions, be carried into the room leading out of my bedroom and placed in the iron receptacle I had specially constructed without religious right or ceremony of any kind. I have tried to make my peace with my creator. To him I leave the rest. This done, the iron chamber to be locked in the presence of the said Paul Capel, who shall take the key. The doorway shall then be built up with blocks of stone similar to those of which I had the room built, a sufficiency of which are stored up in cellar number four, sealed with my seal. And I hear solemnly by my ear and successor to observe exactly these my commands that my body may rest undisturbed in my old home, under penalty of forfeiture of the said Freehold as above named. He must have been mad, said Artis, in an audible voice. And as I, being now in full possession of my senses, continued Mr. Girtle, slightly raising his voice, know that this is a strange and arduous burden to lay upon my ear in chief, though I have taken such precautions that in a short time my presence in the house may entirely be forgotten. I give and bequeath to him that he sole use and enjoyment, and in the hope that with the help and advice of my old friend Joshua Girtle will sensibly invest and sell and invest the Russian letter case containing bank of England notes amounting to five hundred thousand pounds. Artis drew a long breath through his teeth, catreined the ingam leaned forward with her beautiful eyes fixed on Paul Capel. Lydia sank back in her seat with a feeling of misery she could not have explained seeming to crush her, while Paul Capel sat now unmoved and continued the old gloria. The flat silver case containing the diamonds, pearls, rubies and emeralds bequeathed to me by my mistresses the renown of Ilahad and become a brahad bed, valued at one million sterling more or less. These cases are in the steel chest in the iron chamber in which my coffin is to be placed when the cases are taken out the keys of which and the secret of the lock being known only to my old friend Joshua Girtle whom I constitute my sole executor and my old friend and servant Ramo whom I commend to the care of my grand-nephew the said Paul Capel. Furthermore, the remainder of the sum of fifty thousand pounds in consuls after providing for the payments herein before stated as legacies I desire my executor to distribute in twenty equal sums to as many deserving charities as he may select. The reading of the rest of the document occupied scarcely a couple of minutes and then the old solicitor rose. The servants slowly left the room making a detour so as to bow and courtesy to the colonel's air. Ramo last vertically watching Charles to go slowly to the young man's side bow reverently take his hand and kiss it saying softly the one word Sahib don't go Ramo said Mr. Girtle and the old Indian slowly backed into the corner by the door where he stood nearly invisible waiting until such time as he should be called upon to give up his share of the secret of the chamber beyond the dead man's room. End of chapter five Chapter six of The Dark House This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Dark House by George Manuel Fenn Chapter six of Fit of Generosity Mr. Paul Capel said the old solicitor allow me to add my congratulations and my hope that your fortune may prove a blessing but it is like a dream a romance cried Paul Capel all that wealth here in this house I wondered that he was not robbed my old friend took great precautions against that said Mr. Girtle as you will see it was impossible for anyone to have stolen the valuables and notes but ought not this money to have been banked of course or invested I have told him so often that he used to say he preferred to keep it as it was he had plenty for his wants and charities your uncle was an eccentric man Mr. Capel there is no denying that eccentric cried artist mad well I give you all warning I shall take action and throw it into chancery he walked to the end of the room and Paul Capel looked after him uneasily as he saw Catherine follow you foolish boy she whispered am I not as badly used as you be patient wait what do you mean he whispered hastily she looked full in his eyes and he tried to read the mystery in their depths but without avail why don't you speak he cried some things are better left unspoken she replied don't be rash I'll wait he whispered if you wish it I do wish it take no notice of what I say or do promise me that promise me you will not make me jealous and I'll wait but maybe I shall make you jealous she said still you know me wait I'm sorry for one thing Mr. Gertel said Paul Capel while this was going on may I ask what that is oh yes you're simple the quest of a ring will you you will not be offended Mr. Gertel out of this immense wealth do you want me to make you some suitable stop said the old gentleman laying his hand upon the speaker's arm my old friend wished to leave me a large sum but I chose that ring in preference thank you all the same my dear young friend and I beg you will count upon me for help well then there is something I should like to do at once Mr. Gertel a million and a half with its strange burden oh I don't mind that I want to do something over this money Miss Lawrence is well provided for but Miss D'Angam well you had better marry her do do you mean that no said the old man sternly I do not there is Mr. Artis too I should like to find him in funds to carry on a legal war against you for what he would call his rights my dear Mr. Cappell may I as lawyer give you a bit of advice certainly I ask it of you then wait Cappell drew back as the old gentleman proceeded to fold the wheel and lay it with other papers in the tin box while Ramon standing alone in the gloom with folded arms and apparently seeing nothing but observing every motion hearing almost every word notice that Gerard Artis was watching the deposition of the wheel his hungry looks seeming to devour it as he felt that he would like to destroy it on the spot Ramon noted too that Paul Cappell took a step or two towards where Catrine was talking eagerly to Artis then he hesitated and turned off to where Lydia sat alone she too had been watching Paul Cappell's actions and now that he turned to her she seemed to shrink back in her seat as if he's coming troubled her let me congratulate you Mr. Cappell she said rather coldly thank you he said with a sigh and she saw in glance in the direction of Catrine I think said Mr. Goethe loudly that we will now proceed to fulfill the next part of my instructions there was a sharp click heard here as he locked a little padlock on the tin box and Gerard Artis watched him thinking what a little there was to him and the obnoxious will Miss D'Angham, Miss Lawrence will you kindly follow me? Ramon, lead the way it was like going from one gloom into another far deeper as the door was thrown open and Ramon led the way along the short wide passage bearing a silver candlestick whose light played softly on the great stained window when he stopped illuminated the bronze club of the central still raised to strike the eyes of Gerard Artis were fixed upon the tin box containing the will the keen look of Catrine D'Angham on the old Indian servant as he took a key from his cumberbund while poor Cappell gazed with his soul in his glance on Catrine ignorant that with spirit sinking lower and lower Lydia was watching him the solicitor gave a glance around full of solemnity and awe as if to ask were all ready then as if satisfied he made a sign to Ramon the Indian raised the candlestick above his head softly thrust in the key turned it and threw open the door when once more from the darkness within the strange aromatic odor floated forth Mr. Cappell you are master here said the old lawyer softly enter first end of chapter 6 chapter 7 of the Dark House this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Dark House by George Manville then chapter 7 lying in state poor Cappell look round at Catrine who gave him a sympathetic glance and entered the room taking a step forward and pausing for the rest to follow Ramon closed the door and drew a heavy curtain across whose rings made a peculiar thrilling noise on the thick brass rod Ramon then lit two wax candles upon the chimney piece and a couple more upon the dressing table whose united light was only sufficient to show in a dim way the extent of the room with its old fashioned bed and hangings of dark cloth similar curtains being over the window and across what seemed to be a second door opposite the couch there was an intense desire to look towards the bed but it was mastered by a strange shrinking and the visitors to the death chamber occupied themselves first in looking round at the objects that met their eyes it was richly furnished and on every hand it seemed that its occupant had taken precautions to guard himself from the cold of England after a long sojourn in a hot land a thick turkey carpet was on the floor large skin rugs were by the fireplace and bedside dressing table and wash stand similar rugs were thrown over the easy chairs and on the comfortable couch by the ample fireplace while here and there were trophies of foreign arms peculiarly shaped weapons lay on the dressing table and formed the ornamentation of the chimney piece in one corner of the room carefully arranged and hung upon a stand was a strangely grotesque object that in the semi-darkness somewhat resembled a human figure but proved to be the tarnished uniform mourn by the old officer coty, helmet, sword and belts gorgeous with ornamentation a pair of pistols with silver butts and a small flag of faded silk and gilt stuff were grouped over a gold embroidered saddle and tarnished shebraque of Indian work here too was one of the Indian figures of Buddha crouched upon an enormous breaker at this side of the room looking in the obscurity like a living watcher of the dead in an attitude of contemplation or prayer Ramos stood in the silent room holding the silver candlestick above his head motionless as another statue so much in keeping was he in his garb and colour with the surroundings but he was keenly watching every one the while and taking his cue from a mute question addressed by Mr. Goetel's eyes to Paul Capel he walked solemnly to the head at the heavily hung bed softly drew back one curtain and held the candle over his dead master's mortal remains Paul Capel felt a natural instinctive shrinking from approaching the bed but he did not hesitate stepping forward with reverence and even then his heart gave a throb of satisfaction that one of his female companions should have stepped calmly to his side lying there as in a dark intent with a couple of Indian toe-walls crossed upon the bed's head was a perfectly plain oaken coffin of unusual size and without the slightest ornamentation saved that on the lid resting against the side was a brass breastplate bearing the dead man's name age and date of death within wrapped in a rich robe of Indian fabric glittering with flowers wrought in gold thread lay the kernel of his face visible and presenting to those who gazed upon it for the first time the fine features of the old soldier with his closely cut grey hair ample beard and the scars of two sword cuts across brow and cheek there was no distortion the old man full of days lay calmly asleep and Paul Capel bent down and kissed an icy brow when he rose his companion pressed forward and as he gave way imitated his action when, to his surprise he saw that it was not catringed the Indian but Lydia a low sigh fell upon their ears as they were leaving the bed's head and Paul raised his eyes to see that the old Indian was watching and in the semi-darkness he saw him quickly raise a portion of Lydia's dress and hold it to his lips drawing back they gave place to Catrine and Gerard Artis who walked to the bed's head stood for a moment or two and then, as if moved by the same impulse both drew away the old Indian stepped back with his candlestick the polished silver seemed to glimmer and flash in the gloom the heavy curtain fell in its funeral folds and the group turned to Mr Girtle the old man said a few words to Ramo who crossed the room to the dressing table taking one by one the candlesticks and placing them in Paul and Lydia's hands after which he took those to Catrine and Gerard Artis the old lawyer taking the one the Indian had carried this stun, Ramo walked softly to the curtain that covered what seemed to be the second door and again there was the thrilling sound as the ring swept with a low rattle over the rod laying there a strong iron door deep down in a narrow arch portal opening his silk and robe he drew out three keys of curious shape attached to a stout steel chain which seemed to be round his waist and softly placing one of them in the lock he turned it easily when a series of bolts shot back with a loud cling then taking out the key he pressed the door with his shoulder and it swung slowly and heavily open apparently requiring all the old man's strength to throw it back iron and of great thickness said Mr. Girtle in a low voice Mr. Capel shall I lead the way the kernels there bowed and candle in hand the old lawyer passed through the doorway Ramo holding back the curtain and standing like the guardian of the place they saw Mr. Girtle take a couple of steps forward turn sharply and descend and as Paul Capel followed he found that to his left where half a dozen broad stone stairs flanked by a heavy bellestrade and that the old lawyer was standing below holding up his light the next minute as they reached the floor of what seemed to be a good size chamber there was the sound of the curtain being drawn as if to shut them in and Ramo came softly down the little flight of steps to stand at a distance with reverent man by the light of the five candles they now saw that they were in a perfectly bare wall chamber apparently floor walls and groin roof of stone while in the centre stood a large massive cube of solid iron painted thickly to resemble stone so large was it that it seemed as if the remainder of the chamber left uncovered merely formed a passage to walk about the four sides this place the kernel had constructed where a dressing room used to be said Mr. Girtle and his voice sounded peculiar being repeated in whispers from the wall in a hollow metallic ring that was oppressive as it was strange why the place is like a vault with a two minute said artist with an impatient tone in his voice it is a vault Mr. Artis said the old gloria a vault in which is a tomb this he continued is all of enormous strength blocks of stone and concrete being beneath us and the walls and roof are of immense thickness this face to be blocked up is six feet through highly interesting Mr. Showman muttered Artis and then at a look from Catrine he became attentive Colonel Capel continued the old gloria had his own peculiar ideas an enormously wealthy man accustomed to command he considered he had a right to follow out his views I more than once pointed out to him when he made me this confident that the proceedings he proposed might meet with opposition from the authorities that he replied calmly that the place was his own freehold and that everything was to be carried out privately at the same time he would give us little excuse as possible for interference with his plans besides he said once get the matter over and it would be forgotten in a week but in the name of common sense broke out Artis why will you kindly retain your observations Mr. Artis until we have returned to the drawing room said the lawyer Artis was about to reply the poor Capel saw that a look from Catrine restrained him and a jealous pang shot through his heart Barm came for the wound directly as Catrine raised her eyes to his let them rest there for a few moments and then veiled them as she goes upon the floor Colonel Capel continued the old gloria with his words whispering the stone walls had a double intention in having the place constructed it was for his Muslim after death for his strong room during life within this iron room or chamber which would defy any burglar's tools is a chest of steel constructed from the Colonel's own designs to contain his enormous fortune and when that has been taken out by the clock tomorrow it is to be replaced by the coffin that lies in the next room by us who are present now to be closed up and locked the iron chamber is to be also closed then the iron door and lastly we are to see that portal completely walled up as I have already told you and forgotten but said Artis quickly there are large sum in notes here in this place yes sir and the diamonds, the pearls said Catrine yes my dear young lady all are here and you have the keys I and Ramo the deceased's trusted servant but is Artis is about to continue it's safe to trust that man but as he spoke to Sir who was watching him my guide is the series of rules written by Colonel Capelsur said Mr. Gertel Kogli can we see the duels said Catrine yes you can show us the treasure cried Artis with a half laugh as we too are to have nothing we might be indulged with the peep the treasure is Mr. Paul Capelsur said the old gloria but even if he expressed a wish I could not depart from my instructions tomorrow at noon I bid you all to meet me at the door of Colonel Capelsur's room tomorrow said Artis, today the old lawyer glanced at his watch yes he said, today I had forgotten that it was so late will you kindly accompany me to the drawing room the Indian went first and drew back the curtain and they passed up into the bedroom where the old officer lay in state there they paused as Ramo drew back the iron door and turned the key when the bolts shot into their sockets and the curtain was drawn then glancing at the bed they passed out at the room Ramo locking the door listening sharply with his ears twitching as he caught a faint creaking noise made by a lock in the lower part of the house how strange that bronze figure looks said Mr. Goetel glancing up at the great centur looming instinctively against the stained glass window in whose recess it stood yes said Paul it is a fine work but it looks as if it were going to dash out someone's brains that is what I have always thought whenever I have entered or left that room I wished to heaven it had both of you muttered artists a hundred pounds good God a hundred pounds the same thought may have entered Katrine D. Ingham's head for as they moved towards the drawing room she laid her arm affectionately round Lydia's slight waist and said softly to herself at bangle and a hundred pounds Monju then the drawing room door closed and Ramo stood in the dark leaning over the balustrade at the great well staircase listening intently till he saw a door open and a flash of light came out shining on the ground full face at the old butler and the keen features of Charles the footman the latter bearing a tray of silver chamber candlesticks Ramo glided away and the two servants bore the trade to the drawing room asked if they would be wanted again and retired Good night dearest cried Katrine kissing Lydia affectionately I congratulate you I am not jealous Good night Mr Goetel how tired you must be she said shaking hands Good night Mr Artis Good night Mr Capell I congratulate you heartily Good night Five minutes later the great drawing room was as still as the chamber of the dead and in the dark house on the staircase and in the hall statue and picture looked on with their eyes closed to what was passing while the great bronze senture stood with uplifted club ready to strike there where he seemed to be on guard at his dead master's door that he struck no blow and the night passed and the morning came a dull, drizzling morning when the fog hung low and it was still like night when Prunam the butler came to Mr Goetel's door the old lawyer drew the wire and the night latch allowed the butler to rush in hot water, Prunam said the old man the heaven's sake get up sir and I'll call Mr Capell sir panted the butler what? something wrong yes sir quick I'm afraid these murder done end of chapter 7 chapter 8 at the Dark House this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Dark House by George Manville Fenn chapter 8 The Horrors of the Morn by the time Mr Goetel was partly dressed and had hurried out on the landing Paul Capell and Gerard Artis had left their rooms ready to question him upon the cause of the alarm I don't know he said trembling Prunam came and roused me speaking of murder and blessed my soul I did not know you were there Ms Florence too Katrina and Lydia had joined them there on the landing of the second floor where a chamber candle stick on a table was almost the only light for that which came through the ground glass at the top of the staircase was so much yellow gloom one of the maids Anne came and woke me said Katrina speaking very calmly as she looked from one to the other the most collected of anyone present she said there was something wrong she woke me too cried Lydia visibly and looked of a shallow grave Mr Goetel will you come down it was the butler's voice and Paul Capell ran quickly down the stairs to the drawing room floor where the old butler ghastly pale with his hair sticking to his forehead had lit half a dozen candles and stood them some on a table some on the pedestal of the great bronze group on the side, Colonel Capell's door what is it speak man, cried Capell the ladies don't let the ladies come it was too late they were already there and the women's servants were dimly seen in the gloom at the foot of the stairs but what is wrong cried Capell the butler passed his hand over his humid face and looked piteously from one to the other Prenom, speak man at once said Mr Goetel sternly I woke at half past seven sir he said in a trembling voice and wondered that I had not been called at seven Mr Ramos sir always rose very early and called me and Charles but I was not surprised that since master's death he has slept outside his door I think I'm almost sure though I never said anything to man, you are torturing us cried Capell give him time said Artis who looked nervous and strange yes, let him speak said Catrine go on Mr Prenom and tell us thank you man I will said the butler but but would you ladies go back to your room I've something something I'm not a child said Catrine Lydia dear you had better go I will stay with you said Lydia laying her hand upon Catrine's arm and after a helpless look round an emotion of his hands as if he washed them of any trouble that might come the old butler went on I didn't take much notice as we were late last night but as soon as I was dressed I knocked at Charles's door he slept in a turn up bedstead in the servants hall the old man directed this piece of information to those around him and then went on there was no answer so I went in and Charles was not there not there said Mr Girtle quickly no sir the bed had not been slept in his livery was on the chair by it and his cupboard was open where he keeps his private clothes this is strange said Mr Girtle go on yes sir I thought perhaps he had let himself out through the area gate sir he has done such things before and at a time like this I must speak plain yes let me have the truth go on I was very angry sir and I meant to tell you for it seemed disgraceful at such a time go on I will sir faulted the butler but you must not flurry me I have had a shock let him go on his own way Mr Capel said the old lawyer Prenum gave him a grateful look and continued I thought I'd go and speak to Mr Ramo and then I met Cook and Anne Mr Prenum said in a husky voice from below yes Mrs Thompson quite right and they went on to the kitchen while I went up into the hall and undid the bolts of the front hall door and let down the chain yes exactly then I went up sir to see if Mr Ramo was at master's door yes go on said Capel excitedly and when I came to the door sir I found it was a jar and though I listened I could not hear a sound so I pushed the door against the big curtain and called softly Ramo Mr Ramo but there was no answer and then I felt a bit alarmed and after waiting a moment I went down and got a light well I called again sir twice and then pushing open the door a puff of wind nearly blew out the light wind cried Mr Girtle and he took a step towards the door stop a minute sir please said the butler appealingly I went in quickly and the first thing I saw was the curtain dragged aside and the window open yes go on cried Mr Girtle for the butler was trembling so that he could hardly speak and the next sir I nearly fell over him there was poor Mr Ramo lying in a pool of blood oh the cry came from Lydia as she tottered and clung to Catrine calm admits the horrors of the recital I put the candle on the floor sir and went down on my knee beside him cried the butler growing more and more agitated look he said piteously pointing to his trousers and his hands I touched him sir but he was dead sir dead and I came up then and alarmed the house artists look at the butler narrowly as his eyes wandered from one to the other have you been in since Prenum no sir I went and got the candles Cappell was about to rush into the room but he stopped on the threshold miss Dienham miss Lawrence this is no place for you pray go back to your rooms yes sir Catrine slowly Mr Cappell is right come dear with me she passed her arm round Lydia and the two seemed to fade away into the darkness as Cappell Cirtle, artist and lastly the butler went into the room end of chapter 8 chapter 9 of the Dark House this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information all to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Dark House by George Manville Fenn chapter 9 another discovery it was precisely as the butler had said there was the window open a window looking out onto some leads and beyond them below houses of a muse which ran at the back there at a short distance from the bed was the Colonel's faithful servant in a pool of blood with a kukri one of those ugly curved Indian knives clasped tightly in his hand dead said Mr Girtle and then rising quickly he ran to the further portal drew back the curtain and found the iron door closed there has been a terrible struggle here said Cappell look he pointed to where plainly seen on the white counter pain that half covered the heavy valance there was the mark of a bloody hand that had caught the quilt and dragged it a little down yes said Mr Girtle looking about at overturned chairs a small table driven out of its place and a carriage clock swept off and lying on the floor yes there has been a terrible struggle he looked at the dead man and then in the direction of the strong chamber artists saw and said maliciously murder must mean robbery impossible said the lawyer the door is shut stop let me see and stooping he thrust his hand inside the silken robe the old Indian war there was a dead silence as he searched hastily and then threw out the keys and chained all safe he cried see here are the keys they slipped off and on the spring swivel the old man always wore them there the key at that door the key at the iron chamber the key at the steel chest gentlemen I shall remove the keys Mr Cappell they are yours now take them no said Cappell quietly take them sir now what do you make of this it seems to me that the murderer must have come in by this door and encountered Ramo and after the terrible struggle have escaped by the window exactly said Mr Girtle unless said artists someone killed this black fellow when trying to rob his master absurd cried Cappell thoroughly as he bent down over the dead man look here he cried whoever it was must have been wounded this knife is covered with blood his own perhaps said artists maybe so but I think not now Mr Girtle what next the police said the old lawyer huskily Prenum fetched me a little branding this terrible scene made me faint go sir leave you here yes go at once said Mr Girtle and there seemed to be an unwillingness to leave as the butler went out and closed the door you did not want that brandy said artists quickly you wanted to get rid of him for a few minutes I know what you are thinking that it was that scoundrely faced foot man yes you have guessed my thoughts and you suspect the butler I do not say that sir said the lawyer coagley we do not know that there has been any robbery until the plate is examined but we ought to have sent for a doctor at once I'll go said Cappell and hurrying out of the room he ran down the stairs caught his hat from the stand and hurried from street to street till he saw the familiar red eyed lamp five minutes after he was on his way back in a cab with a keen looking youngish man to whom he gave an account of the morning's discovery have you given notice to the police no if I were you I should send a messenger straight to Scotland yard it will save you from the blundering of some young constable too late but as they reached the room there was the familiar helmet of one of the force the man having found the door left open by Cappell and rung he was a heavy dull looking man who seemed as he stood in the dark room to consider it is duty to thrust his hand in his belt and stare at the ghastly figure on the floor meanwhile the doctor was busily looking the body at the Indian servant quite dead said Mr. Girtle yes, rigor mortis has set him suicide suicide sir oh bless my soul no but that weapon yes, someone had an awful cup with that I should say continued the doctor and the constable mentally drew a line from the Kirkree to the open window put onto the leads and down into the muse what has caused his death I cannot tell you yet said the doctor hold the light here, closer please ha, that is the mark of a blow on the arm there is this wound on the chin and on the neck ha, yes this seems more likely there has been a tremendous blow dealt here on the head but no fracture I think, sort of blow a life preserver would give but really, I cannot account so far for his death unless, what is this peculiar odor I told you, said Capel pointing to the bed no, I don't mean that said the doctor quickly I mean this about here can you see any bottle he ran his hand down the side of the silk robe and then look round where he knelt what do you mean doctor said Mr. Gertel there is the same odor that I should expect to notice in a case of suicide with poison doesn't look much like that said artists why doctor, look at the traces of the struggle I have looked at them sir replied the doctor but so far I detect the death a proper examination may give different results but I must have the assistance of a colleague done sir, finished said the constable who had remained for the time unnoticed yes my man you will give notice of this at once unlock up the room all in good time sir I should like a look round door open you say Mr. Gertel window open yes well been the fellow who did it seems to have come in here and escaped there after getting a cut with that crooked knife he turned on his bull's eye lantern and made the light play from where the body lay over the turkey carpet to the window where he turned off the light for there was sufficient for him to see no stones no marks of hands on the window no foot marks outside on the leads not a spot he shook his head and came back well my man said Mr. Gertel don't be in a hurry sir law moves slow and short I was in the country before I got out of the rural into the metropolitan what has that to do with this white artist everything sir said the constable turning sharply on the young man and watching him narrowly I've known cases where windows have been set open to make it seem that someone's gone through but the murderer is not in the house said Mr. Gertel uneasily and we suspect who's that said the constable sharply oh you butler yes I brought the brandy for Mr. Gertel sir never mind now said the policeman said it down gentlemen I've got a theory about this here he turned on his bull's eye again as he spoke a theory cried capel impatiently yes sir you see the crooked knife thing yes and the mark of the bloody hand on the counter pain where it is dragged yes we saw that well has anyone looked under the bed no then we shall find him there he stepped forward and raised the heavy valance directing the light beneath there he exclaimed what did I say end of chapter 9 chapter 10 at the dark house this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the dark house by George Manuel Fenn chapter 10 why doctor he's dead in one moment the slow heavy looking constable changed the rustic lautish fellow to a man full of intelligent observation for as he raised the valance of the bed there indistinctly seen was the body of a man either through fear or to escape observation with a quick motion of the hand the constable opened the letter case at his side and drew his truncheon so sir he said to Capel you sir keep the door now then he cried as soon as he had been obeyed and in a sharp authoritative voice the game's up out you came Capel said his teeth hard that all this was horrible in that chamber of death do you here cried the constable sharply for there was neither word nor movement beneath the bed oh very well he continued only I warn you I stand no nonsense and the occupants of the room prepared for a struggle with beating hearts the constable stepped back to them and from behind his hand said softly be ready perhaps there's two he stepped back and stooped with his staff ready for a blow then he cried is it surrender there was no answer and he thrust his hand beneath the bed seized the man's leg and dragged him out into the room but only to lose his hold and start a wave why doctor he cried he's dead the doctor caught up the candlestick and dropped on one knee beside the fresh horror while the light from the bull's eye was again brought to bear and mingled with the wane yellow rays had struggled in through the pains good god gentlemen gasp the butler it's Charles the horribly distorted features were indeed those of the footmen and the mystery of the death chamber began to grow lighter for it was evident that for some reason he had entered the room in the night for no good mission certainly a short whale bone handled life preserver hanging by a twisted thong from his wrist the hideous stains upon the were clearly enough explained by the sight of a terrible gash in the man's throat and one of his hands was crimson and smeared the one that had left its print upon the quilt in his death struggle he had rolled beneath the bed no one else there gentlemen said the constable looking beneath the bed and making his lantern play there and about the curtains whilst as it shed its keen light across the calm sleeping face of the colonel the man involuntarily took off his helmet and stepped back on tiptoe dead some hours said the doctor rising it is clear enough said Mr Gertel in the midst of the painful silence this poor Hindu was the faithful old servant of my deceased friend and he died in defence of his master's property yes yes cried the old butler excitedly Charles used to talk about master's money and diamonds in the servants hall I used to re-prove him and say that talking about such things was tempting yourself never asked you to be in it of course said the constable going close up to him oh no never sir but are you quite sure both him and Mr Ramo are dead quite said the constable there you can say what you like but it's my duty to tell you that I shall take down anything you say that may be used in evidence against you against me cried the butler yes against you but there was no occasion for the notebook Thor Prenum closed his lips and did not speak again I think I will satisfy myself constable that all is safe here said Mr Gertel gentlemen will you come with me he crossed the room threw back the curtain over the portal and taking out his keys unlocked and pushed back the door descending with the others into the bulk like chamber and examining the massive iron structure in the middle it is quite safe he said as the constable made the light of his lantern play here and there but you have not looked in the safe said artist quickly there is no need sir no one could have opened it even with the keys but Ramo or myself nothing has been touched the policeman drew a long breath and they returned to the death chamber Mr Gertel carefully locking the iron door I don't think we shall want any detectives here gentlemen said the constable I shall stay on the premises but perhaps you will let the butler no I think one of you perhaps will be good enough to send in the first constable UC I am going back said the doctor I can do no more now policeman I will send a man to you thank you sir if you will of course you will give notice to the coroner and there will be a post mortem you leave that to me sir only send me one of our men they were stealing out on tiptoe when Capel went back and drew the heavy curtains right across the bed to shut from the old warrior the horrors that lay in the middle of the room the constable too stepped softly across to fasten the window then following the others out he closed and locked the door turning round directly ducking down and involuntarily attempting to draw his truncheon as he raised his left arm to ward off a blow he ejaculated why it's a statue looked just as if it was going to knock one down end of chapter 10