Part 18

Meanwhile, the sounds overhead had increased in number and become continuous, as though some one had commenced to walk up and down the room. Surely no midnight thief would dare to create so much disturbance as that! Detection of his crime would be inevitable. Or did he trust to the sound sleep of the porter and his wife in the kitchen below, not knowing that I, existent and wakeful, intervened between himself and them? In another minute I believe that I should have cast all consequences to the winds, and rushed, not _in_, but _up_ to the rescue, forgetting I was a husband and a father, and armed with Jones’ patent self-acting leveller, alone have ascended to the upper storey to investigate the cause of the midnight disturbance I heard. Only--_I didn’t!_ For before I had had time to shoulder my weapons and screw my courage up to the sticking-point, another sound reached my ears that made the patent levellers drop on the table again with a thump,--the sound, not of a step, but a groan--a deep, hollow, unmistakable groan, that chilled the marrow in my bones to such a degree that it would have been a disgrace to any cook to send them up to table.

I knew then that I must have been mistaken in my first theory, and that the sounds I overheard, whether they proceeded from mortals or not, had no connection with the nefarious occupation of housebreakers. But they had become a thousand times more interesting, and I listened attentively.

The groan was followed by some muttered words that sounded like a curse, succeeded by louder tones of reproach or anger. Then the footsteps traversed the floor again, and seemed to be chasing someone or something round and round the room. At last I heard another groan, followed by a heavy fall.

I started to my feet. Surely Mr. and Mrs. Bizzey must have been roused by such an unusual commotion, and would come upstairs to learn the reason! But no!--they did not stir. All was silent as the grave below, and above also. The noises had suddenly ceased. I appeared to be alone in the empty house. It was all so strange that I put my hands up to my head and asked myself if I were properly awake. I was hardly satisfied on this point before the sounds recommenced overhead, and precisely in the same order as before. Again I listened to the pacing feet--the groan--the curse--the chase--the fall! Each phase of the ghostly tragedy--for such I now felt sure it must be--was repeated in rotation, not once, but a couple of dozen or more times; and then at last the disturbance ceased as suddenly and as unexpectedly as it had commenced.

I looked at my watch. It was three o’clock, and already the early birds on the look-out for the worm had begun to herald the dawn with a few faint twitters in the trees in the cloister. I threw off my clothes impatiently, and lying down in my bed, gave myself up, not to sleep, but reflection on what was best to be done. I had not the slightest doubt left as to the cause of the noises I had heard. My landlady might ascribe them to rats, but were she closely questioned she would probably acknowledge the truth--that she knew the sounds to proceed from spirits, popularly called ghosts; which accounted for all her hesitation and change of countenance when speaking to me about the apartments, also for the low price she asked for her rooms, and her evident wish to dissuade me from sitting up at night.

Naturally the poor woman was afraid she should never secure a lodger if the truth were known; but as far as I was concerned, she was altogether mistaken--I was not afraid of her ghosts. On the contrary, as I lay in bed and thought on what had just occurred, I congratulated myself that, by a third strange coincidence, my visit to Norwich promised to turn out all that I could desire.

I must “lay” these ghosts, of course--_i.e._, if they interfered with my graver work; but to have the opportunity of doing so was the very thing my heart was set upon. Is my reader surprised to hear this? Then I must take him further into my confidence.

When I confessed I was an author, Press writer, amateur detective, and father of six children, I did not add the crowning iniquity, and write myself down a believer in ghosts and spiritualism. Every man acknowledges himself a spirit, and to have been created by the power of a spirit. Most men believe that spirits have the capability of free volition and locomotion, and many that they have exercised these powers by re-appearing to their fellow spirits in the flesh. But to assert publicly that you believe in all this because you have proved it to be the truth, is to throw yourself open to the charge of being a dupe, or a madman, or a liar. Therefore I had preferred until then to keep my faith a secret. My children’s bread depended in a great measure on the reputation I kept up as a man of sense, and I had not dared to risk it by attempting to put my theories into practice. Not that I was entirely ignorant of the rules pertaining to the science of spiritualism. Under cover of the darkness that hides all delinquencies, I had attended several circles gathered for the sole purpose of investigating the mysteries of other worlds; but it had always been accomplished with the utmost secrecy, as my wife was hysterically disposed, and the mere mention of a spirit would have upset the house for days together.

I had never, therefore, had the opportunity of pursuing spiritualism on my own account; and until the day broke I lay awake, congratulating myself on the good luck that had thrown me, cheek by jowl, with a party of ready-made ghosts, whom a very little encouragement would, I trusted, induce to pay me a visit in my own apartments.

All the next day I wandered through the streets of Norwich and in the country surrounding them, speculating--not on the whereabouts of Julian Cockleboat, nor “The Origin of Dreams”--but how I should persuade my landlady to help me unravel the mysterious occurrence of the night before. At last I bethought me that “honesty is the best policy” after all, and decided that I would make a clean breast of my suspicions and desires. If Mrs. Bizzey were a sensible woman, she would prove only too ready to aid me in ridding her apartments of visitors that must injure their reputation; and, at all events, I could but try her. So I opened the subject on the very first opportunity. The woman was clearing away my tea-things the same evening, when she remarked that I had not eaten well.

“I am afraid you sit up too much at night, sir, to make a good appetite.”

“Other people seem to sit up in this house at night as well as myself, Mrs. Bizzey,” I replied, significantly.

“I don’t understand you,” she said, colouring.

“Why, do you mean to say you never hear noises;--that you were not disturbed last night, for instance, by the sound of groans and voices, and of some one falling about in the upper rooms?”

“Oh, sir, you don’t mean to tell me as you’ve heard them already!” exclaimed Mrs. Bizzey, clasping her hand and letting a teacup fall in her agitation. “If you go too, you’ll be the third gentleman that has left within a fortnight on that account; and if a stop ain’t put to it, the house will get such a name that nobody will put a foot inside the door for love or money.”

“But I don’t mean to go, Mrs. Bizzey; on the contrary, I should be very sorry to go; and if you and your husband will consent to help me, I will do my best to stop the noises altogether,” for the idea of forming a little circle with these worthy people had suddenly flashed into my mind.

“How can me and my good man help you, sir?”

“Is Mr. Bizzey at home? If so, go downstairs and fetch him up here, and I will explain what I mean to you both at the same time.”

She left the room at once, and in a few minutes returned with a dapper-looking little old fellow, in knee-breeches and a red plush waistcoat, who pulled his forelock to me on entering.

“This is Mr. Bizzey, sir, and I’ve been telling him all you say as we came up the stairs.”

I leant back in my chair, folded my hands, and looked important.

“I suppose you must have heard the science of spiritualism mentioned?” I commenced, grandly.

“The science of _what_, sir?” inquired Mr. Bizzey, with a puzzled air.

“Of spiritualism--_i.e._, the power of converse or communication with disembodied spirits.”

“Lor’! you never mean ‘_ghosts_,’ sir?” said the old woman.

“I do, indeed, Mrs. Bizzey. I suppose you believe that spirits (or ghosts, as you call them) may re-appear after death?”

“Oh, yes,” interposed the husband; “for I mind the night that my poor mother lay dying, there was an apparition of a turkey-cock that sat upon the palings opposite our cottage, and when it fluttered off ’em with a screech, just for all the world like a real turkey, you know, sir, she turned on her side suddenly, and give up the ghost. I’ve always believed in apparitions since then.”

“And when my sister Jane lay in of her last,” chimed in Mrs. Bizzey, “there was a little clock stood on the mantel-shelf that had always been wound up regular and gone regular ever since she was married; and we was moving a lot of things to one side, and we moved that clock and found it had stopped; and the nurse, she said to me, ‘Mark my words if that’s not a warning of death;’ and, sure enough, Jane died before the morning, which makes me so careful of moving a clock since then that I’d rather go three miles round than touch one if a body lay sick in the house.”

“I see that you both take a most sensible view of the business, and are fully alive to the importance attached to it,” I answered; “I hope, therefore, to secure your assistance to find out what these unusual and mysterious noises in your house portend, and what the authors require us to do for them.”

Then--whilst the old man scratched his head with bewilderment, and the old woman looked scared out of her seven senses--I explained to them, as well as I was able, the nature of a séance, and asked them if they would come and sit at the table with me that evening and hold one.

“But, lawk a mussy, sir, you never want to speak to them!” cried Mrs. Bizzey.

“How else are we to ascertain for what reason these spirits disturb your lodgers and render your rooms uninhabitable by their pranks?”

“I should die of fright before we had been at it five minutes,” was her comment; but her husband was pluckier, and took a more practical view of the matter.

“You’ll just do as I bid you, missus, and hold your chatter. There’s no doubt these noises are a great nuisance--not to say a loss--and if this gentleman will be good enough to try and stop them, and can’t do without us, I’ll help him for one, and you will for another.”

Mrs. Bizzey protested, and wept, and was even refractory, but it was all of no avail, and before we separated it had been agreed we should meet again at ten o’clock, and hold a séance. There was some whispering between the old couple after that that I did not quite understand, but as it ended by Mrs. Bizzey ejaculating, “Nonsense; I tell you the house will be quiet enough by ten o’clock,” I concluded he was referring to some expected visitor, and dismissed the subject from my mind. As soon as they had disappeared I delivered myself up to self-gratulation. I was really going to hold a séance, under my own direction and the most favourable circumstances with a large haunted house at my command, and no one to be any the wiser for my dabbling in the necromantic art. I took out an old number of the “Spiritualist,” and referred to the directions for forming circles at home. I prepared the paper, pencils, and speaking tubes, and symmetrically arranged the table and chairs.

Nothing was wanted when Mr. and Mrs. Bizzey entered my room at the appointed hour--he looking expectant, and she very much alarmed. I was prepared for this, however, and insisted upon their both joining me in a glass of whisky and hot water before commencing the sitting, alleging as a reason the fact that the presence of spirits invariably chills the atmosphere, whether in summer or winter. So I mixed three bumping tumblers of toddy, strong enough to give us the courage we required for the occasion; and after we had (according to the directions) engaged for some little time in light and friendly conversation, I induced my friends to approach the table.

It was now, I was glad to see by my watch, about half-past eleven--just about the time when the mysterious sounds had commenced the night before; and having lowered the lamp, much to Mrs. Bizzey’s horror, until it was represented by a mere glimmer of light, I instructed her husband and herself how to place their hands upon the table, linked with mine, and the séance began.

I had enjoined perfect silence on my companions, and after we had been sitting still for about fifteen minutes, during which I had watched in vain for some symptoms of movement on the part of the table, we all heard distinctly the sound of a foot creeping cautiously about the upper rooms, upon which Mrs. Bizzey, too frightened to shriek, began to weep, and her husband, in order to stop her, pinched her violently in the dark.

“Hush!” I exclaimed, almost as agitated as the woman. “Do not disturb them for your life, and whatever you may see, don’t scream.”

“La, sir, you never mean to say that they’ll come downstairs!”

“I cannot say what they may do. I think I hear a step descending now. But remember, Mrs. Bizzey, they will not hurt you, and try and be brave for all our sakes.”

We were in a state of high nervous excitement for the next five minutes, during which the same noises I had heard the night before were repeated overhead, only that the courses were louder and delivered with more determination, and the falls appeared to succeed each other like hail.

“Oh, sir, what are they a-doing?” exclaimed Mrs. Bizzey, paralysed with terror. “They must be killing each other all round.”

“Hush!” I replied. “Listen, now. Some one is pleading for love or for mercy. How soft and clear the voice is!”

“It sounds for all the world like my poor sister Jane when she was asking her husband to forgive her for everything she had done amiss,” said the old woman.

“Perhaps it is your sister Jane, or some of your relations,” I replied. “She may want you to do something for her. Would you be afraid if she were suddenly to open the door and come into the room?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure, sir; but I hope she mayn’t. It makes me curdle all over only to think of it.”

“They’re quieter now. Let us ask if there is any one present who wishes to speak to us,” I said; and addressing the table to that effect, I commenced to spell out the alphabet rather loudly--“A, B, C,” etc.

Whether from my nervousness, or the united strain we laid upon it, I know not, but the table certainly began to rock at that juncture, though I could make neither head nor tail of its intentions. Treating it in the orthodox manner by which Britons invariably attempt to communicate with a foreigner who does not understand one word of the language spoken, I began to bawl at the table, and my A, B, C, must have reverberated through the empty house.

Again the old woman whispered mysteriously to the old man, but he dismissed her question with an impatient answer; and my attention was too much attracted in another direction at that moment to give much heed of what they were doing. My ear had caught the sound of a descending footstep, and I felt sure the spirits were at last about to visit us _in propriæ personæ_. But dreading the effect it might have on Mrs. Bizzey’s nerves, I purposely held my tongue, and applied myself afresh to a vigorous repetition of the alphabet, striving to cover the approaching footstep by the noise of my own voice, although I was trembling with excitement and delight at the successful issue of my undertaking. At last I plainly heard the footstep pause outside the door, as though deliberating before it opened it. The old man was apparently too deaf or too absorbed to notice it, and his wife was in a state of helpless fright. I alone sufficiently retained my senses to see the door slowly open, and a white-robed figure--a real, materialised spirit--stand upon the threshold. The gesture of delight, which I could not repress, roused my companions from their reverie; and as soon as Mrs. Bizzey turned and saw the figure, she recognised it.

“It’s Jane!” she screamed. “It’s my own poor sister Jane come back from the grave to visit me again, with her red hair and blue eyes; I can see ’em as plain as plain. I’ll die of the shock, I know I shall!”

“Nonsense!” I exclaimed sternly, fearful, lest by her folly she should scare the newly-born spirit back to the spheres. “If it is your sister, speak to her as you used to do. Tell her you are glad to see her, and ask if she wants anything done.”

“Oh, Jane!” said the old woman, half falling upon her knees, “don’t come a-nigher me, for mercy’s sake! I never kept nothing of yourn back from the children except the old blue dress, which it wouldn’t have been no use for them to wear, and the ring, which I had asked you to give me a dozen times in your life, and you had always refused. I’d give ’em both back now if I could, Jane, but the gownd have been on the dust-heap these twenty years past, and the ring I sold the minute my man was laid up with rheumatis. Forgive me, Jane, forgive me.”

“_Why, what on earth are you making such a row about?_” replied the spirit.

I leapt to my feet in a moment.

“This is some shameful hoax!” I exclaimed. “Who are you, and what do you do here?”

“I should think I might put the same question to you, since I find you sitting in the dark, at dead of night, with my landlord and landlady.”

“Lor’, Mr. Montmorency, it’s never you, sir!” ejaculated old Bizzey, with a feeble giggle.

The voice seemed familiar to me. Who on earth was this Mr. Montmorency, who had intruded upon our séance at the most important juncture? I turned up the lamp and threw its light full upon his features. “Good heavens!” I exclaimed, “it’s Julian Cockleboat.”

The young man was equally astonished with myself.

“Did Lord Seaborne send you after me?” he said, guessing the truth at once. “And how did you find out I was lodging here?”

“Aha, my boy!” I replied, unwilling to deny the _kúdos_ with which he credited me, “that’s _my_ secret. Do you suppose I have gained the name of the amateur detective among my friends for nothing? No, no! I am in Norwich expressly for the purpose of restoring you to your guardian, and as I knew that to show my hand more openly would be to scare you off to another hiding place, I devised this little plan for making you reveal yourself in your true character.”

“Did Robson tell you, then, that I had taken an engagement at the theatre here?”

“Never you mind, Mr. Cockleboat; it is quite sufficient that I knew it. This is a proper sort of house to play hide-and-seek in, isn’t it?”

I was dispersing the table and chairs again with angry jerks as I spoke, fearful lest my attempted investigation of the occult mysteries should be discovered before I had removed its traces.

“Still I can’t understand how you discovered that Mr. Montmorency was myself, although naturally my night rehearsals must have disturbed you. But you told me you had no other lodgers,” continued Julian Cockleboat reproachfully, to the Bizzeys.

“And you said the same thing to me,” I added, in similar tones.

“Well, sir--well, Mr. Montmorency, I’m very sorry it should have happened so,” replied the landlord, turning from one to the other, “but it’s all my old woman’s fault, for I said to her--”

“You did nothing of the sort,” interrupted his better half; “for when I come to you and told you as a second gentleman wanted rooms here, it was you as said, ‘Let him have the little room upstairs, and no one will be ever the wiser if he takes his meals out of a day.’”

“But we never thought--begging your pardon, Mr. Montmorency--as you’d take such a liberty with the upper offices as to make noises in them as should disturb the whole house.”

“Well, what was I to do?” replied the young man, appealing to me. “They’ve given me three leading parts to get up at a fortnight’s notice, and if I don’t study them at night I have no chance of being ready in time.”

“In fact,” I said, oracularly, “you’ve been cheating each other all round. Mr. Bizzey has cheated his employers by letting apartments to which he has no right; you have cheated the Bizzeys by using one which you never hired of them; and I have--” “cheated myself,” I might have added, but I stopped short and looked wise instead.

“And it was never no ghosts after all!” said Mrs. Bizzey, in accents of disappointment, as her husband marched her downstairs.

* * * * * * *

There is nothing more to tell. I reconciled Mr. Julian Cockleboat to his guardian and his destiny; and I wrote “The Origin of Dreams,” the best part, by the way (as all the critics affirmed), of “The Cyclopædia of the Brain.” I made more money by my little trip than six months of ordinary labour would have brought me; and Lord Seaborne speaks of me to this day, amongst his acquaintances, as the “very cleverest amateur detective he has ever known.”

And so I am.

THE END.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

This book is volume 2179 in the _Collection of British Authors, Tauchnitz Edition_ series.

Obsolete and inconsistent spellings (e.g. basons, inuendoes, firearm/fire-arm, man-servant/man servant, etc.) have been preserved.

Alterations to the text:

Punctuation: correct some quotation mark pairings/nestings.

[The Invisible Tenants of Rushmere]

Change “Though we entered _evey_ room in turn” to _every_.

[Little White Souls]

“_aud_ a very dull Christmas the members of the 145th Bengal" _and_.

“love and charity make themselves _conspicious_” to _conspicuous_.

“but very _advisible_, not only for Katie, but for yourself” to _advisable_.

“supported by a stone _ballustrade_, and containing eight more” to _balustrade_.

“happened for an hour longer than is _apsolutely_ necessary” to _absolutely_.

[Still Waters]

“flowed over the _white-dressing gown_ which she had worn” to _white dressing-gown_.

(“_Dont_ be a goose!” replied her husband, as he put her) to _Don’t_.

[Chit-Chat from Andalusia]