The House 'Round the Corner. Tracy Louis

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СКАЧАТЬ and I schemed to come here, pack a few of the articles he most values, and have them sent to our cottage in Cornwall. Once they're there, they couldn't very well be sent back, could they? But as my people have forbidden me ever to speak of or come near Elmdale, I didn't quite know how to manage it, until I hit on the notion of impersonating Percy Whittaker, the brother of a friend with whom I have been staying in Cheshire. Percy would do anything for me, but there was no sense in sending him, was there? He would be sure to bungle things awfully, so I borrowed his togs, and traveled all night to a station on the other side of the moor – and nobody – thought – I was – a girl – except you – and Betty, of course. She – knew me – at once."

      "For goodness' sake, don't cry. I believe you – every word. But did you travel from Cheshire in that rig-out?"

      "No, oh, no! I wore a mackintosh, and a lady's hat. They're hanging in the hall. I took them off while crossing the moor."

      "A mackintosh!"

      "Yes. Don't be horrid! I turned up my trousers, of course."

      "I'm not being horrid. I want to help you. You walked – how many miles?"

      "Fourteen."

      "And breakfasted at York?"

      "Yes. You see, Betty would have brought me some lunch. Then you came."

      "The bedroom was prepared for your use, then?"

      "Yes. It's my room, really. Dad likes to sleep with his head to the west, and that is where the door is in that room."

      "Poor girl! I would have given a good deal that this thing should not have happened. But we must make the best of a bad job. Now, I hope you'll accept my advice. Let me go upstairs and remove the clothes I shall need in the morning. Then you retire there, lock the door, and sleep well till Betty comes."

      "Oh, I can't! You are very kind, but I must go to Mrs. Jackson now."

      She had blushed and paled in alternate seconds. Half rising, she sank back into the chair again; though the table was between them, the wearing of a boy's clothes was not quite so easy a matter as it had seemed earlier. The one thing she did not guess was that this serious-faced man was far more troubled by thoughts of a reputed ghost than by an escapade which now loomed large in her mind.

      "I'm half inclined to make you obey me," he said angrily, gazing at her now with fixed and troubled eyes.

      "But you've been so good and kind," she almost sobbed. "Why should you be vexed with me now? I've told you the truth, I have, indeed."

      "That is precisely the reason why I am sure you ought not to risk arousing the village to-night."

      "But I won't. I'll tap at the window. Betty knows I'm here, somewhere, and she'll let me in at once."

      Armathwaite was at his wits end to decide on the sanest course. A man less versed than he in the complexities of life would have counseled her retreat to the cottage as the only practicable means of escape from a position bristling with difficulties; but some subtle and intuitive sense warned him that Marguérite Garth should, if possible, leave Elmdale without the knowledge which credited that house with a veritable ghost.

      "It's long after midnight," he persisted. "I'll have a snooze in a chair, and meet Betty Jackson before you show up. You can trust me absolutely to explain things to her."

      "You forget that she is worrying dreadfully about me. Please let me go!"

      "Very well," he said, driven to the half measures he had learnt to detest. "Promise me this – that you'll go straight to bed, and come here for breakfast without any conversation with the Jacksons."

      The girl showed her relief, not unmixed with surprise at a strangely-worded stipulation.

      "I'll do that," she said, after a little pause.

      "Mind you – no talk. Just 'Good-night, I'm dead tired,' and that sort of thing."

      "Yes," she agreed again, wonderingly.

      "And the same in the morning?"

      "I'll do my best."

      "Off with you, then! I'll come to the door, and stand there, in case you're challenged by anybody."

      "There's little fear of that in Elmdale at this hour," she said, with a new cheerfulness. He turned, ostensibly to pick up the electric torch. She was out in the hall instantly; when he rejoined her she was wearing the mackintosh.

      "Good-night!" she said. "Next to dad, you're the nicest man I've ever met, and I don't even know your name."

      "I'll introduce myself at breakfast," he growled, extinguishing the torch as he opened the door. He watched her swift run down the curving path to the gate, and heard her footsteps as she hurried into the village street. The night was so still that he knew when she turned into the front garden of the cottage, and he caught the tapping on a window, which, beginning timidly, soon grew more emphatic, perhaps more desperate.

      Some minutes passed. He could see the back of the cottage, and no gleam of light shone in any of its tiny windows. Then followed some decided thumping on a door, but the tenement might have been an empty barn for all the response that was forthcoming.

      Finally, he was aware of slow feet climbing dejectedly up the hill, and the garden gate creaked.

      "I can't make anybody hear," wailed a tearful voice.

      Armathwaite was even more surprised than the girl at this dramatic verification of his prophecy, but he availed himself of it as unscrupulously as any Delphic oracle.

      "I told you so," he said. "Now, come in and go to bed!"

      CHAPTER IV

      SHOWING HOW EXPLANATIONS DO NOT ALWAYS EXPLAIN

      Though weary and distrait, Marguérite Garth was of too frank a disposition to allow such an extraordinary incident to pass without comment. She halted in the porch by Armathwaite's side, and gazed blankly at the silent cottage.

      "You spoke of a ghost," she murmured brokenly. "I'm beginning to think myself that I am bewitched. What can have happened? Why won't Betty or her mother let me in?"

      "I'll have much pleasure in clearing up that trivial mystery about eight o'clock in the morning," he said with due gravity, fearing lest any attempt to relieve the situation by a joke might have the disastrous effect often achieved by a would-be humorist when a perplexed woman on the verge of tears is the subject of his wit. "Now, if you'll wait in the dining-room till I collect my garments, you'll be in bed and asleep within five minutes."

      He gave her no further opportunity for argument or protestation. Closing and locking the door, he left the key in the lock, whereas, by virtue of the arrangement with Betty Jackson, it had reposed previously on the hall-table. In a few seconds he bustled in with an armful of clothes and a pair of boots. Handing over the torch, he said cheerfully:

      "Now, leave everything to me, and you'll be astonished to find how all your woes will vanish by daylight. Good-night, and sleep well!"

      Then the girl did a strange thing. She held the torch close to his face, and looked at him unflinchingly.

      "I am very fortunate in having met a man like you," she said, and, without another word, turned and mounted the stairs. He waited СКАЧАТЬ