"This, of course, I told him was nothing but nerves; yet really, it made
me feel very anxious; for I have seen too much not to know that under
such circumstances a premonitory _conviction_ of impending danger is not
necessarily to be put down entirely to nerves. In fact, Beaumont was so
simply and earnestly convinced that the night would bring some
extraordinary manifestation that I got Parsket to rig up a long cord from
the wire of the butler's bell, to come along the passage handy.
"To the butler himself I gave directions not to undress and to give the
same order to two of the footmen. If I rang he was to come instantly,
with the footmen, carrying lanterns and the lanterns were to be kept
ready lit all night. If for any reason the bell did not ring and I blew
my whistle, he was to take that as a signal in the place of the bell.
"After I had arranged all these minor details I drew a pentacle about
Beaumont and warned him very particularly to stay within it, whatever
happened. And when this was done, there was nothing to do but wait and
pray that the night would go as quietly as the night before.
"We scarcely talked at all and by about one a.m. we were all very tense
and nervous so that at last Parsket got up and began to walk up and
down the corridor to steady himself a bit. Presently I slipped off my
pumps and joined him and we walked up and down, whispering occasionally
for something over an hour, until in turning I caught my foot in the
bell cord and went down on my face; but without hurting myself or
making a noise.
"When I got up Parsket nudged me.
"'Did you notice that the bell never rang?' he whispered.
"'Jove!' I said, 'you're right.'
"'Wait a minute,' he answered. 'I'll bet it's only a kink somewhere in
the cord.' He left his gun and slipped along the passage and taking the
top lamp, tiptoed away into the house, carrying Beaumont's revolver ready
in his right hand. He was a plucky chap, I remember thinking then, and
again, later.
"Just then Beaumont motioned to me for absolute quiet. Directly afterward
I heard the thing for which he listened--the sound of a horse galloping,
out in the night. I think that I may say I fairly shivered. The sound
died away and left a horrible, desolate, eerie feeling in the air, you
know. I put my hand out to the bell cord, hoping Parsket had got it
clear. Then I waited, glancing before and behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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