Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 11, No. 27, June, 1873Various
Science
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 11, No. 27, June, 1873
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
"'It is not "well enough," as you call it. I am going to see into
it, and why they hide it. I declare,' and she examined the door
critically, 'it looks like the entrance to Bluebeard's chamber. Look
at these queer marks, these dents and stains, as if there had been
a struggle. It is our duty to investigate;' and her voice grew
impressive. 'Perhaps we have been brought here for that very purpose,
and, Jane, if there _is_ a dead body in there, I shall inform the
police.' Annie was very brave in daylight.
"'Fiddle-de-dee!' I replied to this fine speech. 'What you call duty,
I call curiosity. I am ravenously hungry, and I wish you would finish
dressing and let us get to breakfast.'
"'I will just tell you this,' she answered indignantly, and yet with a
quiver in her voice, 'I never in my life felt as I did last night when
I saw that door. It was quite like what people write of a mysterious
influence, or the presence of some one unseen; and that whistle or
voice or moan, as if a soul was calling, came from here; and you must
help me to find out what it really was, for I can't go away without
knowing.'
"I saw it was useless to try longer to dissuade her. The bed moved
easily: she took my hand and led me behind it; then warily tried the
latch. It rose, but she was obliged to lean all her weight against the
door before it would give way, and finally it opened so unexpectedly
that she almost fell forward.
"What did I see? At the first glimpse a faint light from a cobwebbed
window, a narrow room and a floor--red. Was it blood? A sickening
mouldy smell came forth, but as I forced myself to look again I saw
that it was only red tiles that had startled me. There was an upright
brick range in a corner, an old water-tank, some shelves and a
cupboard. A missing pane of glass left a space through which the air
had entered and moaned up the broad-mouthed flue that opened above
the range. This was the ominous 'signal' we had heard in answer to the
footsteps. The dust was thick over everything, and the only signs
of life were the rat-tracks on the floor. We stood still for a few
moments, overwhelmed at this solution of the occult 'influence' that
had so subtly acted on Annie's nerves, and filled me with no less
terror.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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