The House of Secrets Page 2

  "And then?"

  "It was broad daylight and the sun was shining in at the window when I came to my senses again and struggled out of the bed."

  "How about the doors this time?"

  "The doors this time were as they had been before. Each one was securely bolted on the inside, and not one of them bore the slightest evidence of having been disturbed."

  "I suppose you could no longer accept the theory of nightmare, to explain what had happened?"

  "No. I knew better than that now."

  "Did you tell Mrs. Drew or Simpson about it?"

  "I told nobody. I kept my own counsel--but I resolved not to steep in my own room that night."

  "You thought you would dodge these spirits that were haunting you?"

  "You may call it that if you like," she replied, smiling wanly. "I said nothing about my intention to any person in the house, not even to the maid who cares for the rooms; but on my own initiative I arranged one of the guest's chambers for my accommodation--one of the rooms that has only one door, and one that I could fasten securely.

  "When it came time for me to retire, I went to that room, and feeling strangely secure, although I will confess that I was nervous, I dropped asleep after a time; and now comes one of the strangest features of this remarkable series of incidents."

  "What is it now?"

  "I slept well and soundly all night. I did not awaken--I was not awakened at all during the night--but in the morning, when I did open my eyes, I was in my own room, in my own bed!"

  "What?"

  "It is true. Absolutely true."

  "Do you mean that you went to sleep in the guest-chamber, and that you awoke in your own room the next morning?"

  "That is exactly what I do mean."

  "And you were not disturbed at all during the night?"

  "Not at all."

  "Do you ever walk in your sleep?"

  "I expected that question; but it is no case of sleep-walking. I was carried in my sleep from one room to the other. I was taken from one bed and deposited in the other, and it was done without my knowing a thing about it."

  "Did you have a headache in the morning? Was there any feeling about you to indicate that possibly you had been partly chloroformed, or something of that sort?"

  "No. I felt normal. But I have not done yet, Nicholas."

  "Well, go on."

  "That night I tried another room--a different one, I mean. I went off into another wing of the house, locked myself in, and barricaded the door. Then, instead of going to bed, I put out the lights and seated myself in a chair in one corner of the room, fully dressed. I was determined to watch all night, to see what would happen if anything."

  "Well?"

  "I suppose I got tired of watching. I suppose I must have dropped asleep in that chair. Anyhow, I lost consciousness; and when I awoke----"

  "Well?"

  "When I awoke I was again in my own bed, in my own room. I had not only been carried to my own room from that distant wing of the house, but I had literally been undressed and put to bed by the persons--or ghosts--who did it."

  CHAPTER III -- A HOUSE OF MYSTERY.

  The detective could only stare in amazement in response to this astounding statement.

  "Go on," he said presently. "Tell me all there is to tell."

  "There isn't very much more to tell you," replied Mabel wearily. "The rest of the events that have happened have been largely repetitions of those I have already told you about."

  "Has something happened to you every night since these things began?" he asked.

  "No, not every night. For instance, the night following the one I have just described, I was desperate, as well as frightened. I thought at first that I would not go to bed at all. I thought of sending for you, but I ended by going to the room of Mrs. Drew, and passing the night with her."

  "And nothing happened?"

  "Nothing happened at all--that night, or the next, or the one following that. I was left for three nights undisturbed."

  "And then?"

  "Then I returned to my own room again, but only to have a repetition of my former experiences."

  "The same as the first two that you have described to me?"

  "Precisely the same; only that I thought-----"

  "Thought what, Mabel?"

  "Do you remember that woman who worked here once as a housemaid? The woman whose name was Susan Gross, and who turned out to be a sister of Melville Bergen's?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, in that corpse-like face that always appeared at my bedside I fancied that I saw a resemblance to that woman."

  "Ah," said the detective. "That may prove to be interesting before we have done with this affair--for, of course, you must understand as well as I that these things could not have occurred to you without human agency."

  "Certainly."

  "Is there more to tell me about it?"

  "Yes."

  "Go on, then."

  "When I found that I was again troubled in my own room, I returned to Mrs. Drew--to sleep with her, and again there were three nights without molestation. But I remained with her, and the fourth night something happened."

  "Tell me what it was."

  "It was merely that when I awoke in the morning I was in bed in my own room; that I had been taken from Mrs. Drew's bed in the night, and carried to my own bed; that it was done without disturbing me, and without waking Mrs. Drew. In the morning she charged me with having deserted her during the night, and that without disturbing her. And that happened twice again, afterward--and that is why I have sent for you. If I were compelled to face these terrors alone any longer I should go mad--and somehow I have come to the conclusion that the whole thing is an effort to drive me mad."

  "You have proved yourself to be an unusually courageous young woman, Mabel."

  "Perhaps. I do not know. I seemed to have no place to fly to. I realized that I had not been actually harmed, and I figured that they did not intend to do me bodily harm. But I have withstood it just as long as I can. But I want to say this:"

  "Well ?"

  "Every time I have seen that corpselike face, it has reminded me more and more of the woman Susan Gross. Is she not in prison?"

  "No."

  "She was arrested with the others."

  "Yes; but she turned State's evidence against her brother, and because of the testimony she gave she was released. It has been generally supposed that she left the country."

  "And that other woman--Bergen's wife, was she not? --Imogene Mallory, she called herself--what became of her?"

  "You know she was not really guilty of anything at all, but inasmuch as she had criminal knowledge of her husband's crimes, after the fact, she was sent to prison for one year."

  "Then she is in prison now?"

  "Yes."

  "But Susan Gross is at liberty?"

  "Yes."

  "Then depend upon it, Mr. Carter, Susan Gross is the prime mover in this affair; only----"

  "What were you about to say?"

  "Only there is one thing which to me is utterly inexplicable. How was it possible for human beings to enter rooms where the doors were bolted on the inside, and to leave those rooms again without disturbing the bolts?"

  "That, possibly," said the detective, smiling, "may not be as great a mystery as we imagine. On my way out here to-day, something reminded me of a story that your brother once told me about this house. I think I would like to ask you some questions about that, Mabel."

  "Yes?" she replied. "If there is anything that I can tel] you please ask me."

  "Do you know anything about the history of your family? I refer to your grandfathers, as far as three or four generations back."

  "I am afraid that I know very little."

  "Perhaps you know more about it than you think you do."

  "Possibly. I know that Clarence and I used often to discuss those things with great gravity when we were children. Clarence was eight years older than I. My mother died at my birth, and when our father died, I was two and Clarence was ten years old."

  "Yes. I know that already. Did you ever know anything about an old servant of your father's whose name was Pedro Pasquale?"

  "Oh, yes. He disappeared very mysteriously when I was about seven years old. I can just remember him."

  "If you were seven, your brother was fifteen when Pedro disappeared."

  "Yes."

  "Of course you have no personal knowledge concerning Pedro; but will you try to recall for me things that have been said about him to you? Either by your brother or by any member of the household who may have known him."

  "Simpson knew him. Simpson could tell you more about him than I--if you can make Simpson talk about him. But always when Clarence or I mentioned the name of Pedro, Simpson has shaken his head moodily, grumbled out something about the devil, and left us. Neither of us could ever induce Simpson to talk about Pedro."

  "Well, I will endeavor to induce him to talk later. Just now I want you to give me your own impressions about the matter."

  "Will you tell me why, Mr. Carter? I don't see what Pedro could have to do with these present events. It is fifteen years since he disappeared----"

  "You must pardon me, Mabel; but you know that detectives sometimes have strange and incomprehensible methods for getting at things. If an evil exists, it is well, if possible, to ascertain the source of that evil. For instance, your brother gave me to understand that the old servant of your father carried about with him some secret which he was to impart to his young master when Clarence should have arrived at a certain age. Pedro disappeared before Clarence heard that secret. Do you know anything about that?"

  "I only know that Clarence has often told me the same thing which he told you. He was always wondering what that secret was. Did you know that Clarence always insisted that this house was haunted, and that that was why he would not live here?"

  "No."

  "He did."

  "Do you know if he had any reason for that belief?"

  "No. Only he used to say that old Gerald Vaughan--our great-grandfather three times back, had been a pirate of some kind--but of course that was idle folly."

  "I'm not so sure of that. At the time he lived, the dividing line between a privateersman and a pirate was very hard to find."

  "Well, Clarence always spoke of old Gerald as 'that old pirate.' He always insisted that this house--that is, the old part of it--was honeycombed with secret passages and vaults, and he always believed that treasure is concealed somewhere about the old place. But I never paid any attention to such things."

  "You were always too practical."

  "I suppose so."

  "What is your general impression of old Pedro Pasquale, as derived from all the things you have heard about him since your infancy? What is your personal idea of him? Try to picture him as standing before you, just as you have thought of him, and describe that picture to me."

  She was silent a moment, and then, rather dreamily, she said:

  "I see a very, very old man--a man so old that he did not know his age, or, if he did, refused to tell it to others. He was probably past ninety at the time of his disappearance."

  "And that was fifteen years age, so we can figure that he would be about a hundred and five now. Take twenty off of that for usefulness--for he could not have done much before he was twenty--that would bring him into your family about the year 1820. That would be during the life of your great-grandfather, who was the son of the 'old pirate.'"

  "That is true," she admitted. "I had not thought of it in that way before."

  "Please go on with your description of him."

  "I seem to remember his piercing black eyes, which glittered so strangely. I remember that all the servants in the house were afraid of him. I used to hear them talk about him. He was a strange old man who never spoke unless he was addressed, and then would answer with a monosyllable if he could.

  "I remember hearing, too, that he was in the habit of disappearing for days at a time, and then reappearing again as suddenly as he had gone--until finally he disappeared and never returned. Clarence used to talk to me about him a good deal when we were both young."

  "Tell me what Clarence said."

  "Clarence always said that Pedro had been a pirate, too, in his early days, and that he was a sort of heirloom that had been handed down in the family from generation to generation, as if he were a brooch or a jewel. Pedro was always devoted to Clarence. He fairly worshiped him. Clarence, used to tell me that himself; and he was the only one in the house whom Pedro would serve."

  "Did any one ever tell you anything about those disappearances of Pedro's? What was the manner of his disappearing? Have you been told that?"

  "Why, he would be seen about the house, and of a sudden he would be missing. Nobody ever saw him go; nobody ever saw him return."

  "Then it is more than likely, isn't it, that this house does contain secret passages and secret chambers?"

  "I suppose so. I never gave the subject any thought. Clarence used to. I have known him to spend hours searching for them. In fact he never came here that he did not go about as if he were looking for one of them. He always believed----"

  "What?"

  "That old Pedro had-died suddenly in one of them, and that the secret he was to impart to my brother was down underneath the house somewhere with the bones of Pedro Pasquale."

  "Perhaps your brother was right about that, too."

  "Perhaps."

  "It is quite evident, Mabel, that there are such passages in this house, else those people who have been disturbing you could not have entered locked rooms. And if they are here, we will find them."

  CHAPTER IV -- THE KEEPER OF A FAMILY SECRET.

  "You will not leave me until this mystery is solved, will you, Mr. Carter?" Mabel asked him when there was a momentary pause in their conversation.

  "No," he replied promptly, "I will not. You may rest perfectly assured of that, Mabel. I will stay here and protect you until we lay those ghosts by the heels; and now, I want to have a talk with old Simpson."

  "I could not stand any more of it alone," she said. "I have got to the end of my resources, as far as courage is concerned. I think--I really think that in time they would have driven me mad."

  "I have no doubt of it. The wonder is that you stood it as long as you did. And now, I will go and find Simpson."

  "Would you rather I would send him to you here?"

  "No; you remain here in your own room; or, better still, as it is a pleasant day, let Danny take you for a ride in the automobile. By the way, this house stands on a very high bluff over the Sound. How far do you call it from here to the water?"

  "I think it is generally supposed to be about a quarter of a mile, or a little more."

  "There is a good anchorage down there in the little bay, isn't there?"

  "Yes. A very good one. Clarence frequently brought his yacht there, until he sold it, last year.

  "There is a path from here directly to the water's edge, isn't there? A short cut?"

  "Yes. It takes you to the top of the bluff, and there steps have been cut in the rocks down the face of the cliff: and there are iron rings to grasp while you are making the descent. But it is a perilous place. I have always preferred to go around."

  "Thank you. Danny will be ready for you in ten minutes, and will take you wherever you wish to go."

  "Does that mean that you wish me to go? That you want to get rid of me for a time?" she asked of him smilingly.

  "It means more than anything else that you need the ride in the open air to bring the color back to your cheeks. It means that you need a change and that the ride will do you good. Let it go at that."

  "Very well. I will be ready in ten minutes, then."

  Nick left her and went in search of Danny, whom he told to give the young lady a good long ride for an hour or two; and then he waited until they had started before he began his interview with Simpson.

  But as soon as, the automobile had gone he called Simpson into the little reception-room off the main hall.

  "Simpson," he said, smiling upon the old man who had served the family so long a time, "I think I am right in supposing that you have some personal liking for me, am I not?"

  "Indeed you are, Mr. Carter. It is a strange question for you to ask of me, sir."

  "I know it is; but I shall ask you some stranger ones before I am through. Did Miss Mabel tell you that she had sent for me to come here?"

  "She did, sir."

  "Did she tell you why she had sent for me ?"

  "She did not, sir."

  "Have you not noticed lately that she is not looking at all well. That, in fact, she has the appearance of a person who has something on her mind?"

  "Yes, sir; and it has worried me greatly."

  "You don't believe in ghosts do you, Simpson?"

  The old man raised a startled face to the detective, and repeated after him:

  "Ghosts, sir?"

  "Yes--ghosts. You don't believe in the existence of ghosts, do you?"

  "Well, sir, I don't know. I have seen some strange things in my time----"

  "Here in this house, Simpson?"

  "Here and in other places as well, sir."

  "Will you keep a secret if I will tell you one, Simpson?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Miss Mabel thinks that she has been seeing ghosts."

  "Lately, sir?" was the quiet and rather surprising question from the old man.

  "Yes--lately," replied Nick, puzzled by his manner.

  Simpson shook his head emphatically.

  "I haven't seen any;--lately," he murmured, more to himself than to the detective.

  "Do you mean by that remark, Simpson, that you have seen what you suppose to be ghosts, in this house, ever?"

  "Yes, sir; it does."

  "When?"

  "Not for a great many years, sir."

  "How many years?"

  "Twenty, maybe; perhaps not so long; perhaps longer."

  "What sort of ghosts, Simpson?"

  "I didn't suppose that, there was more than one sort, sir--disembodied spirits."