A moment of madness, and other stories (vol. 3 of 3)Marryat, Florence
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A moment of madness, and other stories (vol. 3 of 3)
Marryat, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
‘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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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