Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia ButterworthGreen, Anna Katharine
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Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories; New York (State) -- Fiction
This was less difficult than I anticipated. Either this room was
regarded as so safe from intrusion that a secret like this could be
safely left unguarded, or the door which was plainly to be seen in one
corner had been so lately lifted, that it had hardly sunk back into its
place. I found it, if the expression may be used of a horizontal object,
slightly ajar and needing but the slightest pull to make it spring
upright.
The hole thus disclosed was filled with the little staircase up which I
had partly mounted in my daring explorations of the day before. It was
dark now, darker than it was then, but I felt that I must descend by it,
for plainly to be heard now through the crack in the closet door, which
seemed to have a knack of standing partly open, I could hear the heavy
tread of the six bearers as they entered the parlor below, still
carrying their burden, concerning the destination of which I was so
anxious to be informed.
That it could be in the room itself was too improbable for
consideration. Yet if they took up their stand in this room it was for a
purpose, and what that purpose was I was determined to know. The noise
their feet made on the bare boards of the floor and the few words I now
heard uttered in William's stolid tones and Lucetta's musical treble
assured me that my own light steps would no more be heard, than my dark
gown of quiet wool would be seen through the narrow slit through which I
was preparing to peer. Yet it took no small degree of what my father
used to call pluck, for me to put foot on this winding staircase and
descend almost, as it were, into the midst of what I must regard as the
last wicked act of a most cowardly and brutal murder.
I did it, however, and after a short but grim communion with my own
heart, which would persist in beating somewhat noisily, I leaned forward
with all the precaution possible and let my gaze traverse the chamber in
which I had previously seen such horrors as should have prepared me for
this last and greatest one.
In a moment I understood the whole. A long square hole in the floor,
lately sawed, provided an opening through which the plain plank coffin,
of which I now caught sight, was to be lowered into the cellar and so
into the grave which had doubtless been dug there. The ropes in the
hands of the six persons, in whose identity I had made no mistake, was
proof enough of their intention; and, satisfied as I now was of the
means and mode of the interment which had been such a boundless mystery
to me, I shrank a step upward, fearing lest my indignation and the
horror I could not but feel, from this moment on, of Althea's children,
would betray me into some exclamation which might lead to my discovery
and a similar fate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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