id stringlengths 16 16 | text stringlengths 151 2.3k | word_count int64 30 60 | source stringclasses 1
value |
|---|---|---|---|
twg_000000044000 | would be much more miserable than he is now, if he thought that I guessed that there is anything wrong with him." "It is impossible for me to come to the Grange except as a medical man," I answered, firmly. "I will tell Sir Henry that you have seen some changes in him, and have asked me to visit him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044001 | as a doctor. Please trust me. Nothing will be said to your husband that can make matters at all uncomfortable for you." Lady Studley did not venture any further remonstrance, and we now approached the old Grange. It was an irregular pile, built evidently according to the wants of the different families who had lived in it. The building was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044002 | long and rambling, with rows of windows filled up with panes of latticed glass. In front of the house was a sweeping lawn, which, even at this time of the year, presented a velvety and well-kept appearance. We drove rapidly round to the entrance door, and a moment later I found myself in the presence of my host and patient. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044003 | Sir Henry Studley was a tall man with a very slight stoop, and an aquiline and rather noble face. His eyes were dark, and his forehead inclined to be bald. There was a courtly, old-world sort of look about him. He greeted me with extreme friendliness, and we went into the hall, a very large and lofty apartment, to tea. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044004 | Lady Studley was vivacious and lively in the extreme. While she talked, the hectic spots came out again on her cheeks. My uneasiness about her increased as I noticed these symptoms. I felt certain that she was not only consumptive, but in all probability she was even now the victim of an advanced stage of phthisis. I felt far more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044005 | anxious about her than about her husband, who appeared to me at that moment to be nothing more than a somewhat nervous and hypochondriacal person. This state of things seemed easy to account for in a scholar and a man of sedentary habits. I remarked about the age of the house, and my host became interested, and told me one | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044006 | or two stories of the old inhabitants of the Grange. He said that to-morrow he would have much pleasure in taking me over the building. [Illustration: "'HAVE YOU A GHOST HERE?' I ASKED, WITH A LAUGH."] "Have you a ghost here?" I asked, with a laugh. I don't know what prompted me to ask the question. The moment I did | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044007 | so, Sir Henry turned white to his lips, and Lady Studley held up a warning finger to me to intimate that I was on dangerous ground. I felt that I was, and hastened to divert the conversation into safer channels. Inadvertently I had touched on a sore spot. I scarcely regretted having done so, as the flash in the baronet's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044008 | troubled eyes, and the extreme agitation of his face, showed me plainly that Lady Studley was right when she spoke of his nerves being in a very irritable condition. Of course, I did not believe in ghosts, and wondered that a man of Sir Henry's calibre could be at all under the influence of this old-world fear. "I am sorry | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044009 | that we have no one to meet you," he said, after a few remarks of a commonplace character had divided us from the ghost question. "But to-morrow several friends are coming, and we hope you will have a pleasant time. Are you fond of hunting?" I answered that I used to be in the old days, before medicine and patients | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044010 | occupied all my thoughts. "If this open weather continues, I can probably give you some of your favourite pastime," rejoined Sir Henry; "and now perhaps you would like to be shown to your room." My bedroom was in a modern wing of the house, and looked as cheerful and as unghostlike as it was possible for a room to be. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044011 | I did not rejoin my host and hostess until dinner-time. We had a sociable little meal, at which nothing of any importance occurred, and shortly after the servants withdrew, Lady Studley left Sir Henry and me to ourselves. She gave me another warning glance as she left the room. I had already quite made up my mind, however, to tell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044012 | Sir Henry the motive of my visit. The moment the door closed behind his wife, he started up and asked me if I would mind coming with him into his library. "The fact is." he said, "I am particularly glad you have come down. I want to have a talk with you about my wife. She is extremely unwell." I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044013 | signified my willingness to listen to anything Sir Henry might say, and in a few minutes we found ourselves comfortably established in a splendid old room, completely clothed with books from ceiling to floor. "These are my treasures," said the baronet, waving his hand in the direction of an old bookcase, which contained, I saw at a glance, some very | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044014 | rare and precious first editions. "These are my friends, the companions of my hours of solitude. Now sit down, Dr. Halifax; make yourself at home. You have come here as a guest, but I have heard of you before, and am inclined to confide in you. I must frankly say that I hate your profession as a rule. I don't | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044015 | believe in the omniscience of medical men, but moments come in the lives of all men when it is necessary to unburden the mind to another. May I give you my confidence?" "One moment first," I said. "I can't deceive you, Sir Henry. I have come here, not in the capacity of a guest, but as your wife's medical man. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044016 | She has been anxious about you, and she begged of me to come and stay here for a few days in order to render you any medical assistance within my power. I only knew, on my way here to-day, that she had not acquainted you with the nature of my visit." While I was speaking, Sir Henry's face became extremely | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044017 | watchful, eager, and tense. "This is remarkable," he said. "So Lucilla is anxious about me? I was not aware that I ever gave her the least clue to the fact that I am not--in perfect health. This is very strange--it troubles me." He looked agitated. He placed one long, thin hand on the little table which stood near, and pouring | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044018 | out a glass of wine, drank it off. I noticed as he did so the nervous trembling of his hand. I glanced at his face, and saw that it was thin to emaciation. "Well," he said, "I am obliged to you for being perfectly frank with me. My wife scarcely did well to conceal the object of your visit. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044019 | now that you have come, I shall make use of you both for myself and for her." "Then you are not well?" I asked. "Well!" he answered, with almost a shout. "Good God, no! I think that I am going mad. I know--I know that unless relief soon comes I shall die or become a raving maniac." "No, nothing of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044020 | the kind," I answered, soothingly; "you probably want change. This is a fine old house, but dull, no doubt, in winter. Why don't you go away?--to the Riviera, or some other place where there is plenty of sunshine? Why do you stay here? The air of this place is too damp to be good for either you or your wife." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044021 | Sir Henry sat silent for a moment, then he said, in a terse voice:-- "Perhaps you will advise me what to do after you know the nature of the malady which afflicts me. First of all, however, I wish to speak of my wife." "I am ready to listen," I replied. "You see," he continued, "that she is very delicate?" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044022 | "Yes," I replied; "to be frank with you, I should say that Lady Studley was consumptive." He started when I said this, and pressed his lips firmly together. After a moment he spoke. "You are right," he replied. "I had her examined by a medical man--Sir Joseph Dunbar--when I was last in London; he said her lungs were considerably affected, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044023 | and that, in short, she was far from well." "Did he not order you to winter abroad?" "He did, but Lady Studley opposed the idea so strenuously that I was obliged to yield to her entreaties. Consumption does not seem to take quite the ordinary form with her. She is restless, she longs for cool air, she goes out on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044024 | quite cold days, in a closed carriage, it is true. Still, except at night, she does not regard herself in any sense as an invalid. She has immense spirit--I think she will keep up until she dies." "You speak of her being an invalid at night," I replied. "What are her symptoms?" Sir Henry shuddered quite visibly. "Oh, those awful | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044025 | nights!" he answered. "How happy would many poor mortals be, but for the terrible time of darkness. Lady Studley has had dreadful nights for some time: perspirations, cough, restlessness, bad dreams, and all the rest of it. But I must hasten to tell you my story quite briefly. In the beginning of October we saw Sir Joseph Dunbar. I should | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044026 | then, by his advice, have taken Lady Studley to the Riviera, but she opposed the idea with such passion and distress, that I abandoned it." Sir Henry paused here, and I looked at him attentively. I remembered at that moment what Lady Studley had said about her husband refusing to leave the Grange under any circumstances. What a strange game | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044027 | of cross-purposes these two were playing. How was it possible for me to get at the truth? "At my wife's earnest request," continued Sir Henry, "we returned to the Grange. She declared her firm intention of remaining here until she died. "Soon after our return she suggested that we should occupy separate rooms at night, reminding me, when she made | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044028 | the request, of the infectious nature of consumption. I complied with her wish on condition that I slept in the room next hers, and that on the smallest emergency I should be summoned to her aid. This arrangement was made, and her room opens into mine. I have sometimes heard her moving about at night--I have often heard her cough, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044029 | and I have often heard her sigh. But she has never once sent for me, or given me to understand that she required my aid. She does not think herself very ill, and nothing worries her more than to have her malady spoken about. That is the part of the story which relates to my wife." "She is very ill," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044030 | I said. "But I will speak of that presently. Now will you favour me with an account of your own symptoms, Sir Henry?" [Illustration: "HE LOCKED THE DOOR AND PUT THE KEY IN HIS POCKET."] He started again when I said this, and going across the room, locked the door and put the key in his pocket. "Perhaps you will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044031 | laugh at me," he said, "but it is no laughing matter, I assure you. The most terrible, the most awful affliction has come to me. In short, I am visited nightly by an appalling apparition. You don't believe in ghosts, I judge that by your face. Few scientific men do." "Frankly, I do not," I replied. "So-called ghosts can generally | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044032 | be accounted for. At the most they are only the figments of an over-excited or diseased brain." "Be that as it may," said Sir Henry, "the diseased brain can give such torture to its victim that death is preferable. All my life I have been what I consider a healthy minded man. I have plenty of money, and have never | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044033 | been troubled with the cares which torture men of commerce, or of small means. When I married, three years ago, I considered myself the most lucky and the happiest of mortals." "Forgive a personal question," I interrupted. "Has your marriage disappointed you?" "No, no; far from it," he replied with fervour. "I love my dear wife better and more deeply | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044034 | even than the day when I took her as a bride to my arms. It is true that I am weighed down with sorrow about her, but that is entirely owing to the state of her health." "It is strange," I said, "that she should be weighed down with sorrow about you for the same cause. Have you told her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044035 | of the thing which terrifies you?" "Never, never. I have never spoken of it to mortal. It is remarkable that my wife should have told you that I looked like a man who has seen a ghost. Alas! alas! But let me tell you the cause of my shattered nerves, my agony, and failing health." "Pray do, I shall listen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044036 | attentively," I replied. "Oh, doctor, that I could make you feel the horror of it!" said Sir Henry, bending forward and looking into my eyes. "Three months ago I no more believed in visitations, in apparitions, in so-called ghosts, than you do. Were you tried as I am, your scepticism would receive a severe shock. Now let me tell you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044037 | what occurs. Night after night Lady Studley and I retire to rest at the same hour. We say good-night, and lay our heads on our separate pillows. The door of communication between us is shut. She has a night-light in her room--I prefer darkness. I close my eyes and prepare for slumber. As a rule I fall asleep. My sleep | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044038 | is of short duration. I awake with beads of perspiration standing on my forehead, with my heart thumping heavily and with every nerve wide awake, and waiting for the horror which will come. Sometimes I wait half an hour--sometimes longer. Then I know by a faint, ticking sound in the darkness that the Thing, for I can clothe it with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044039 | no name, is about to visit me. In a certain spot of the room, always in the same spot, a bright light suddenly flashes; out of its midst there gleams a preternaturally large eye, which looks fixedly at me with a diabolical expression. As time goes, it does not remain long; but as agony counts, it seems to take years | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044040 | of my life away with it. It fades as suddenly into grey mist and nothingness as it comes, and, wet with perspiration, and struggling to keep back screams of mad terror, I bury my head in the bed-clothes." "But have you never tried to investigate this thing?" I said. "I did at first. The first night I saw it, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044041 | rushed out of bed and made for the spot. It disappeared at once. I struck a light--there was nothing whatever in the room." "Why do you sleep in that room?" "I must not go away from Lady Studley. My terror is that she should know anything of this--my greater terror is that the apparition, failing me, may visit her. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044042 | daresay you think I'm a fool, Halifax; but the fact is, this thing is killing me, brave man as I consider myself." "Do you see it every night?" I asked. [Illustration: "IT IS THE MOST GHASTLY, THE MOST HORRIBLE FORM OF TORTURE.] "Not quite every night, but sometimes on the same night it comes twice. Sometimes it will not come | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044043 | at all for two nights, or even three. It is the most ghastly, the most horrible form of torture that could hurry a sane man into his grave or into a madhouse." "I have not the least shadow of doubt," I said, after a pause, "that the thing can be accounted for." Sir Henry shook his head. "No, no," he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044044 | replied, "it is either as you suggest, a figment of my own diseased brain, and therefore just as horrible as a real apparition; or it is a supernatural visitation. Whether it exists or not, it is reality to me and in no way a dream. The full horror of it is present with me in my waking moments." "Do you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044045 | think anyone is playing an awful practical joke?" I suggested. "Certainly not. What object can anyone have in scaring me to death? Besides, there is no one in the room, that I can swear. My outer door is locked, Lady Studley's outer door is locked. It is impossible that there can be any trickery in the matter." I said nothing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044046 | for a moment. I no more believed in ghosts than I ever did, but I felt certain that there was grave mischief at work. Sir Henry must be the victim of a hallucination. This might only be caused by functional disturbance of the brain, but it was quite serious enough to call for immediate attention. The first thing to do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044047 | was to find out whether the apparition could be accounted for in any material way, or if it were due to the state of Sir Henry's nerves. I began to ask him certain questions, going fully into the case in all its bearings. I then examined his eyes with the ophthalmoscope. The result of all this was to assure me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044048 | beyond doubt that Sir Henry Studley was in a highly nervous condition, although I could detect no trace of brain disease. "Do you mind taking me to your room?" I said. "Not to-night," he answered. "It is late, and Lady Studley might express surprise. The object of my life is to conceal this horror from her. When she is out | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044049 | to-morrow you shall come to the room and judge for yourself." "Well," I said, "I shall have an interview with your wife to-morrow, and urge her most strongly to consent to leave the Grange and go away with you." Shortly afterwards we retired to rest, or what went by the name of rest in that sad house, with its troubled | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044050 | inmates. I must confess that, comfortable as my room was, I slept very little. Sir Henry's story stayed with me all through the hours of darkness. I am neither nervous nor imaginative, but I could not help seeing that terrible eye, even in my dreams. I met my host and hostess at an early breakfast. Sir Henry proposed that as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044051 | the day was warm and fine, I should ride to a neighbouring meet. I was not in the humour for this, however, and said frankly that I should prefer remaining at the Grange. One glance into the faces of my host and hostess told me only too plainly that I had two very serious patients on my hands. Lady Studley | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044052 | looked terribly weak and excited--the hectic spots on her cheeks, the gleaming glitter of her eyes, the parched lips, the long, white, emaciated hands, all showed only too plainly the strides the malady under which she was suffering was making. "After all, I cannot urge that poor girl to go abroad," I said to myself. "She is hastening rapidly to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044053 | her grave, and no power on earth can save her. She looks as if there were extensive disease of the lungs. How restless her eyes are, too! I would much rather testify to Sir Henry's sanity than to hers." Sir Henry Studley also bore traces of a sleepless night--his face was bloodless; he averted his eyes from mine; he ate | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044054 | next to nothing. Immediately after breakfast, I followed Lady Studley into her morning-room. I had already made up my mind how to act. Her husband should have my full confidence--she only my partial view of the situation. "Well," I said, "I have seen your husband and talked to him. I hope he will soon be better. I don't think you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044055 | need be seriously alarmed about him. Now for yourself, Lady Studley. I am anxious to examine your lungs. Will you allow me to do so?" "I suppose Henry has told you I am consumptive?" "He says you are not well," I answered. "I don't need his word to assure me of that fact--I can see it with my own eyes. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044056 | Please let me examine your chest with my stethoscope." She hesitated for a moment, looking something like a wild creature brought to bay. Then she sank into a chair, and with trembling fingers unfastened her dress. Poor soul, she was almost a walking skeleton--her beautiful face was all that was beautiful about her. A brief examination told me that she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044057 | was in the last stage of phthisis--in short, that her days were numbered. "What do you think of me?" she asked, when the brief examination was over. "You are ill," I replied. "How soon shall I die?" "God only knows that, my dear lady," I answered. "Oh, you needn't hide your thoughts," she said. "I know that my days are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044058 | very few. Oh, if only, if only my husband could come with me! I am so afraid to go alone, and I am fond of him, very fond of him." I soothed her as well as I could. "You ought to have someone to sleep in your room at night," I said. "You ought not to be left by yourself." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044059 | "Henry is near me--in the next room," she replied. "I would not have a nurse for the world--I hate and detest nurses." Soon afterwards she left me. She was very erratic, and before she left the room she had quite got over her depression. The sun shone out, and with the gleam of brightness her volatile spirits rose. "I am | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044060 | going for a drive," she said. "Will you come with me?" "Not this morning," I replied. "If you ask me to-morrow, I shall be pleased to accompany you." "Well, go to Henry," she answered. "Talk to him--find out what ails him, order tonics for him. Cheer him in every way in your power. You say he is not ill--not seriously | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044061 | ill--I know better. My impression is that if my days are numbered, so are his." She went away, and I sought her husband. As soon as the wheels of her brougham were heard bowling away over the gravel sweep, we went up together to his room. "That eye came twice last night," he said in an awestruck whisper to me. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044062 | "I am a doomed man--a doomed man. I cannot bear this any longer." We were standing in the room as he said the words. Even in broad daylight, I could see that he glanced round him with apprehension. He was shaking quite visibly. The room was decidedly old-fashioned, but the greater part of the furniture was modern. The bed was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044063 | an Albert one with a spring mattress, and light, cheerful dimity hangings. The windows were French--they were wide open, and let in the soft, pleasant air, for the day was truly a spring one in winter. The paper on the walls was light. "This is a quaint old wardrobe," I said. "It looks out of place with the rest of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044064 | the furniture. Why don't you have it removed?" [Illustration: "DON'T GO NEAR IT--I DREAD IT!"] "Hush," he said, with a gasp. "Don't go near it--I dread it, I have locked it. It is always in that direction that the apparition appears. The apparition seems to grow out of the glass of the wardrobe. It always appears in that one spot." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044065 | "I see," I answered. "The wardrobe is built into the wall. That is the reason it cannot be removed. Have you got the key about you?" He fumbled in his pocket, and presently produced a bunch of keys. "I wish you wouldn't open the wardrobe," he said. "I frankly admit that I dislike having it touched." "All right," I replied. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044066 | "I will not examine it while you are in the room. You will perhaps allow me to keep the key?" "Certainly! You can take it from the bunch, if you wish. This is it. I shall be only too glad to have it well out of my own keeping." "We will go downstairs," I said. We returned to Sir Henry's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044067 | library. It was my turn now to lock the door. "Why do you do that?" he asked. "Because I wish to be quite certain that no one overhears our conversation." "What have you got to say?" "I have a plan to propose to you." "What is it?" "I want you to change bedrooms with me to-night." "What can you mean?--what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044068 | will Lady Studley say?" "Lady Studley must know nothing whatever about the arrangement. I think it very likely that the apparition which troubles you will be discovered to have a material foundation. In short, I am determined to get to the bottom of this horror. You have seen it often, and your nerves are much shattered. I have never seen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044069 | it, and my nerves are, I think, in tolerable order. If I sleep in your room to-night--" "It may not visit you." "It may not, but on the other hand it may. I have a curiosity to lie on that bed and to face that wardrobe in the wall. You must yield to my wishes, Sir Henry." "But how can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044070 | the knowledge of this arrangement be kept from my wife?" "Easily enough. You will both go to your rooms as usual. You will bid her good-night as usual, and after the doors of communication are closed I will enter the room and you will go to mine, or to any other that you like to occupy. You say your wife | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044071 | never comes into your room during the hours of the night?" "She has never yet done so." "She will not to-night. Should she by any chance call for assistance, I will immediately summon you." It was very evident that Sir Henry did not like this arrangement. He yielded, however, to my very strong persuasions, which almost took the form of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044072 | commands, for I saw that I could do nothing unless I got complete mastery over the man. Lady Studley returned from her drive just as our arrangements were fully made. I had not a moment during all the day to examine the interior of the wardrobe. The sick woman's restlessness grew greater as the hours advanced. She did not care | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044073 | to leave her husband's side. She sat with him as he examined his books. She followed him from room to room. In the afternoon, to the relief of everyone, some fresh guests arrived. In consequence we had a cheerful evening. Lady Studley came down to dinner in white from top to toe. Her dress was ethereal in texture and largely | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044074 | composed of lace. I cannot describe woman's dress, but with her shadowy figure and worn, but still lovely face, she looked spiritual. The gleam in her large blue eyes was pathetic. Her love for her husband was touching to behold. How soon, how very soon, they must part from each other! Only I as a doctor knew how impossible it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044075 | was to keep the lamp of life much longer burning in the poor girl's frame. We retired as usual to rest. Sir Henry bade me a cheerful good-night. Lady Studley nodded to me as she left the room. [Illustration: "'SLEEP WELL,' SHE SAID, IN A GAY VOICE."] "Sleep well," she said, in a gay voice. It was late the next | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044076 | morning when we all met round the breakfast table. Sir Henry looked better, but Lady Studley many degrees worse, than the night before. I wondered at her courage in retaining her post at the head of her table. The visitors, who came in at intervals and took their seats at the table, looked at her with wonder and compassion. "Surely | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044077 | my hostess is very ill?" said a guest who sat next my side. "Yes, but take no notice of it," I answered. Soon after breakfast I sought Sir Henry. "Well--well?" he said, as he grasped my hand. "Halifax, you have seen it. I know you have by the expression of your face." "Yes," I replied, "I have." "How quietly you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044078 | speak. Has not the horror of the thing seized you?" "No," I said, with a brief laugh. "I told you yesterday that my nerves were in tolerable order. I think my surmise was correct, and that the apparition has tangible form and can be traced to its foundation." An unbelieving look swept over Sir Henry's face. "Ah," he said, "doctors | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044079 | are very hard to convince. Everything must be brought down to a cold material level to satisfy them; but several nights in that room would shatter even your nerves, my friend." "You are quite right," I answered. "I should be very sorry to spend several nights in that room. Now I will tell you briefly what occurred." We were standing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044080 | in the library. Sir Henry went to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. "Can I come in?" said a voice outside. The voice was Lady Studley's. "In a minute, my darling," answered her husband. "I am engaged with Halifax just at present." "Medically, I suppose?" she answered. "Yes, medically," he responded. She went away at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044081 | once, and Sir Henry returned to my side. "Now speak," he said. "Be quick. She is sure to return, and I don't like her to fancy that we are talking secrets." "This is my story," I said. "I went into your room, put out all the lights, and sat on the edge of the bed." "You did not get into | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044082 | bed, then?" "No, I preferred to be up and to be ready for immediate action should the apparition, the horror, or whatever you call it, appear." "Good God, it is a horror, Halifax!" "It is, Sir Henry. A more diabolical contrivance for frightening a man into his grave could scarcely have been contrived. I can comfort you on one point, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044083 | however. The terrible thing you saw is not a figment of your brain. There is no likelihood of a lunatic asylum in your case. Someone is playing you a trick." "I cannot agree with you--but proceed," said the baronet, impatiently. "I sat for about an hour on the edge of the bed," I continued. "When I entered the room it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044084 | was twelve o'clock--one had sounded before there was the least stir or appearance of anything, then the ticking noise you have described was distinctly audible. This was followed by a sudden bright light, which seemed to proceed out of the recesses of the wardrobe." "What did you feel when you saw that light?" "Too excited to be nervous," I answered, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044085 | briefly. "Out of the circle of light the horrible eye looked at me." "What did you do then? Did you faint?" "No, I went noiselessly across the carpet up to the door of the wardrobe and looked in." "Heavens! you are daring. I wonder you are alive to tell this tale." "I saw a shadowy form," I replied--"dark and tall--the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044086 | one brilliant eye kept on looking past me, straight into the room. I made a very slight noise; it immediately disappeared. I waited for some time--nothing more happened. I got into your bed, Sir Henry, and slept. I can't say that I had a comfortable night, but I slept, and was not disturbed by anything extraordinary for the remaining hours | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044087 | of the night." "Now what do you mean to do? You say you can trace this thing to its foundation. It seems to me that all you have seen only supports my firm belief that a horrible apparition visits that room." "A material one," I responded. "The shadowy form had substance, of that I am convinced. Sir Henry, I intend | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044088 | to sleep in that room again to-night." "Lady Studley will find out." "She will not. I sleep in the haunted room again to-night, and during the day you must so contrive matters that I have plenty of time to examine the wardrobe. I did not do so yesterday because I had not an opportunity. You must contrive to get Lady | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044089 | Studley out of the way, either this morning or afternoon, and so manage matters for me that I can be some little time alone in your room." "Henry, Henry, how awestruck you look!" said a gay voice at the window. Lady Studley had come out, had come round to the library window, and, holding up her long, dark-blue velvet dress, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044090 | was looking at us with a peculiar smile. "Well, my love," replied the baronet. He went to the window and flung it open. "Lucilla," he exclaimed, "you are mad to stand on the damp grass." "Oh, no, not mad," she answered. "I have come to that stage when nothing matters. Is not that so, Dr. Halifax?" "You are very imprudent," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044091 | I replied. She shook her finger at me playfully, and turned to her husband. "Henry," she said, "have you taken my keys? I cannot find them anywhere." "I will go up and look for them," said Sir Henry. He left the room, and Lady Studley entered the library through one of the French windows. "What do you think of my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044092 | husband this morning?" she asked. "He is a little better," I replied. "I am confident that he will soon be quite well again." She gave a deep sigh when I said this, her lips trembled, and she turned away. I thought my news would make her happy, and her depression surprised me. At this moment Sir Henry came into the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044093 | room. "Here are your keys," he said to his wife. He gave her the same bunch he had given me the night before. I hoped she would not notice that the key of the wardrobe was missing. "And now I want you to come for a drive with me," said Sir Henry. He did not often accompany her, and the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044094 | pleasure of this unlooked-for indulgence evidently tempted her. "Very well," she answered. "Is Dr. Halifax coming?" "No, he wants to have a ride." "If he rides, can he not follow the carriage?" "Will you do that, Halifax?" asked my host. "No, thank you," I answered; "I must write some letters before I go anywhere. I will ride to the nearest | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044095 | town and post them presently, if I may." I left the room as I spoke. Shortly afterwards I saw from a window Sir Henry and his wife drive away. They drove in a large open landau, and two girls who were staying in the house accompanied them. My hour had come, and I went up at once to Sir Henry's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044096 | bedroom. Lady Studley's room opened directly into that of her husband, but both rooms had separate entrances. I locked the two outer doors now, and then began my investigations. I had the key of the wardrobe in my pocket. [Illustration: "GOOD HEAVENS! WHAT HAD HAPPENED?"] It was troublesome to unlock, because the key was a little rusty, and it was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044097 | more than evident that the heavy doors had not been opened for some time. Both these doors were made of glass. When shut, they resembled in shape and appearance an ordinary old-fashioned window. The glass was set in deep mullions. It was thick, was of a peculiar shade of light blue, and was evidently of great antiquity. I opened the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044098 | doors and went inside. The wardrobe was so roomy that I could stand upright with perfect comfort. It was empty, and was lined through and through with solid oak. I struck a light and began to examine the interior with care. After a great deal of patient investigation I came across a notch in the wood. I pressed my finger | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000044099 | on this, and immediately a little panel slid back, which revealed underneath a small button. I turned the button and a door at the back of the wardrobe flew open. A flood of sunlight poured in, and stepping out, I found myself in another room. I looked around me in astonishment. This was a lady's chamber. Good heavens! what had | 60 | gutenberg |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.