The Master of Phoenix Hall (6 page)

“Won't you sit down and have a cup of coffee with us?” I asked.

He smiled happily, pleased that he would be allowed to stay with us a little longer.

“This place already looks different,” he remarked. He straddled a chair, his arms resting on the back, his chin resting on his arms. He was watching Nan as she laid the fire, his penny colored eyes full of sparkle. His great size made the sturdy chair seem small.

“How do you like your new home, Miss Todd?” he asked me.

“I think it is beautiful,” I replied, smiling.

“It'll look nice after we clean up a bit,” Nan agreed. “I made a list of things I'll need for tomorrow, and I want you to bring them first thing in the morning, Billy Johnson.” Her voice was bossy, but Billy liked it. I thought him rather like a very large Puppy.

“It is certainly quiet here,” I remarked. “So peaceful. I feel as though I were hundreds of miles away from everyone.”

“I'd be a little happier if we weren't quite so alone,” Nan said. “It gives me a funny feeling not knowing there is someone nearby, near enough to hear a scream, for instance.”

“Surely you're not frightened, Nan?” I said, laughing.

“Of course not,” she snapped, though not convincingly. “I just don't like being so isolated.”

Billy grinned, seeing an opportunity to tease her.

“You could scream all you wanted,” he said, “and no one would hear you.”

“Why should I scream?” she asked. “Surely there aren't prowlers about?”

“Some say the highwaymen have their hideout in this area. Lights have been seen in the deserted quarries and in the woods, usually soon after there has been a holdup. A farmer looking for a lost calf in the woods one night claims to have seen a figure in black walking near the quarries. He might have imagined it.”

“Surely you're teasing Billy,” I said.

“No, Ma'am,” he replied. “There's been lots of talk about the robbers' den being hereabouts. There's been search parties, but no one has ever found anything. But the lights have been seen, curious lights like hooded lanterns in the quarries and in the woods. Folks stay away from both places at night.”

“My aunt was never bothered,” I said.

“No one has been bothered. There have been no incidents, except for Old Hatcher seeing the black figure, and Hatcher isn't a very reliable witness. He hits the bottle a bit too often.”

Nan's face had grown a little pale, and Billy grinned when he noticed it. He was mischievous by nature and enjoyed frightening her. I could see the boyish devilment sparkling in his eyes.

“Of course there was a lunatic loose in these parts once,” he continued. “He had a butcher knife he had stolen when he escaped from the Home. Belle James was coming through the woods one night after she had left her boy friend—she was a flighty thing, always doin' what she had no business doin'—and she met up with him. They found her next morning, a pitiful sight to see.”

“And—did they catch him?” Nan asked.

“Not for a while. The men roamed all through the woods with torch lights burning, and they could hear insane laughter. It took them two days and nights, but they finally rounded him up. Poor man was curled up in a cave, babbling like a child. The blood-stained butcher knife was beside him.”

“You hush now,” Nan cried. “I don't want to hear any more. It's all nonsense, anyway! Nothing is going to hurt Miss Angel and me. Not while I'm in possession of all my senses. Let me tell you what I said to the highwayman when he held us up last night—”

Nan began to babble about the holdup, and Billy continued gazing at her with admiration. I was glad when Billy finally left, for it was late now and I was very tired. Nan told me that he had asked her to go berry-picking with him at the end of the week. She was undecided about going but, holding her head to one side, she guessed that a good berry cobbler would be nice. After a while she went to her room and I undressed to go to bed.

It was very dark outside, with only a few frosty stars in a black sky. The limbs of the trees rustled in the wind, and I could hear the boughs groaning, the leaves rattling. Crickets chirped, and I heard a dog howling to the night from somewhere far off. I was far too excited and far too happy, and I lay in bed in a state of semiconsciousness and watched the shadows creep across the floor to the edge of the bed. Like Nan, I felt the isolation of Dower House. It was strange not to be able to hear all the noises of London that had sometimes kept me awake when I was at the boardinghouse. No carriages rumbling over the cobbles, no horses' hooves, no nocturnal footsteps moving down the street. Here there was only a serene silence that gradually lulled me to sleep.

I awoke with a start, completely awake, every sense alert. I had the acute sensation that something was wrong, and the strange, eerie feeling that always comes when one is awakened in the middle of the night. The room was very cold. The window was open, and the chilly breeze blew the curtains inward. They were billowing and rustling. Something had happened. In my sleep, even, I had been aware of it, and it had torn away the layers of unconsciousness and sent me hurtling into a state of tingling awareness. I sat up now, trying to recall what had happened. There was that sensation of aftermath, the air still full of the reverberations of something that had just taken place. The house was still and silent but for the sound of the curtains flapping in the breeze. My heart was pounding and my throat was dry.

I slipped into my robe, tying the belt with nervous fingers. I had just finished when I heard someone moving downstairs. I stepped to the door of my bedroom and opened it, listening. I heard footsteps on the staircase. My hand flew to my throat. It was paralyzed. I couldn't scream. The steps came up, and I saw the flickering glow of a candle.

Nan came into the hall. She was holding the candlestick with a hand that was trembling visibly. The guttering orange light revealed a face pale, with enormous eyes. Her white lace night cap was askew on top of her head. She gave a start when she saw me standing in the doorway.

“You heard it too?” she whispered hoarsely. “I was coming up to awaken you.”

“What are you talking about, Nan?”

“The noise. There's someone in the cellar, Miss Angel.”

“Nan—”

“I heard them. It sounded like someone moving something across the floor. And then there was a loud crash, like something had fallen. That must have awakened you.”

“You—surely you imagined it.” My voice trembled.

“No. I wasn't sleeping well after all those stories Billy told me. I kept imagining things. Then I heard the noises in the cellar. And they were not my imagination.”

“Something woke me up, too,” I whispered.

“The crash. It was enough to wake the dead.”

We stood there in the hall for a moment, staring at each other with frightened faces. The candlelight cast wavering shadows on the wall. Nan was shaking with fright, and I was far from calm, but I tried to use my common sense. Hysteria would help neither of us.

“Are both the front and back doors locked?” I asked.

“Yes. I checked both of them before going to bed.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course.”

“Then there can't be anyone in the cellar, Nan. No one could have gotten down there unless they came through the kitchen.”

“But someone is down there!” she insisted.

“Nonsense,” I said.

I was calmer now, at least outwardly. Inside I was still trembling. I drew a deep breath and tried to control myself. It wasn't possible for anyone to be in the cellar if both the doors were locked. No one could possibly have broken into the house without Nan and I both hearing them, for the windows had all been securely fastened and an intruder would have had to have broken the glass.

“We'll go down and check the doors and all the windows,” I said.

“Oh, Miss Angel—”

“Hush, Nan. Where is the courage you showed with the highwayman?”

“I could
see
him,” she protested.

“Come on.”

Although both of us moved slowly and as noiselessly as possible, our footsteps sounded loudly on the staircase. The silence of the house magnified every small noise we made and repeated it with soft echoes. Nan was calmer now as we went through each room, checking the windows. The house still had an air of strangeness about it for us, and I felt curiously as though we were the intruders.

We stood in the kitchen, every door and window checked. All of them were as we had left them. No one had tampered with any of them. We stood listening, hearing nothing but our own breathing. By now I was convinced that the noises in the cellar had all been Nan's imagination and that all that had awakened me had been her movements as she got out of bed. She was a little doubtful herself, looking at me with a frown on her face.

“I
did
hear something, Miss Angel.”

“You're certain?”

“As certain as I am that we're standing here.”

“Very well—we'll go down and check the cellar.”

“Do—do we have to?”

“Neither of us will sleep unless we do,” I replied.

The cellar door creaked as I opened it. The noise was loud and unpleasant. The cold, damp air came up, giving me a clammy feeling. Nan drew back a little as I stepped on the damp stone steps. The light of our candle wavered wildly in the sudden swoop of air, and for a moment I thought it would go out. I cupped my hand around it and proceeded on down the steps.

I was not brave, I was merely determined. I had had a bad fright, and I wanted to quell it. My whole body was rigid as I moved down the steps, but I forced myself forward. My common sense told me that there was no one in the cellar, my intelligence told me that it was very foolish to be afraid, but my emotions caused me to hold my breath with each step.

It was very dark, and the candle afforded little illumination, yet there was light enough to see that the cellar was deserted. No one stood behind the boxes and old trunks, no one crouched behind the old spinning wheel. There was dust and cobwebs and the acrid odor I had noticed earlier. There was a new odor, too, sharp and bitter and repellent. It had not been there this afternoon. I stood in the middle of the earthen floor, holding the candle high and watching the shadows playing on the walls. It was clammy and uncomfortable and sinister down here, and I had that same uneasy feeling I had had this afternoon, but no one else was in the cellar.

Nan stood on the steps, looking around at the disorder, ready to fly back upstairs if anything moved. She was still frightened, and we examined the whole cellar in silence. I was curious about the new odor. I was certain I had not smelled it earlier. Nan smelled it, too.

“What is that smell?” she asked. “It wasn't here before.”

“I—I don't know.”

“It's nasty,” Nan said.

“Are you sure it wasn't there this afternoon?” I asked.

I was certain of it myself, but I wanted Nan to confirm it. There was no reason for the smell to have materialized since we were down here in the afternoon. It gave me a queer, uneasy feeling, and for a moment I wondered if someone
could
have been in the cellar. I looked anxiously about in the dark corners, but they were empty. Then I saw the broken jar. It was in a dozen pieces on the floor beneath the shelf of poisons. There was a small pool of liquid, and the smell rose up from it.

“How—how did it fall?” Nan whispered.

“I don't know,” I replied quietly.

“Someone was here! Someone knocked it off!”

There was a loud rustling at my feet. Something scurried over the floor. Nan screamed. I almost dropped the candle. The flame flickered furiously. I closed my eyes tightly, trying hard to keep from screaming myself. The large gray rat disappeared under a pile of sacking. Nan was beside me, gripping my arm. Then we both began to laugh hysterically. The laughter succeeded in releasing the tension.

“That's the answer,” I said finally, weak with relief.

“The rat knocked the jar off the shelf. That's what we heard.”

“Come, Nan,” I said, leading her up the stairs.

The rodent provided a logical explanation for both the noise and the broken jar. It should have satisfied both of us. Nan was relieved, ready to laugh at herself and make light of the whole thing as we closed the cellar door. I was convinced that the cellar was empty and that the rat had knocked over the jar of poison, but I wished that I could dispel the feeling of uneasiness about the cellar. Something wasn't right. Something was there that shouldn't be there, an aura, an atmosphere that would continue to make me uncomfortable until I discovered what it was.

IV

T
HE MORNING
could not have been more beautiful. The air had a fresh and sparkling quality and the sky was pale blue. A bird singing in the tree beside my window had awakened me early, and I opened my eyes to the trilling music of his song. The nightmare quality of last night was gone. I could see now how foolish both Nan and I had been. Both of us had been tired and overstimulated and had let a broken jar upset us. How ridiculous. I smiled as I got out of bed, feeling that a glorious new day was in store for me.

There was so much to do, floors to sweep and scrub, furniture to dust and polish, windows to clean, drawers to rearrange. It would keep both of us busy all day, and there would be no time to dwell on the mystery of the cellar. Nan had awakened much earlier than I, and I could hear her singing a Cockney ditty as I went downstairs. I could smell a heavenly aroma of food from the kitchen, and I went in to find sausages and golden yellow eggs and a plate of hot biscuits. Nan met me with an effusive smile. She looked fresh and pert in a dress of jade green cotton with a starched white apron tied about her waist.

“What a beautiful breakfast,” I cried. “You'll spoil me, Nan.”