Adventure stories; Fiction; Mystery fiction; Short stories
The bell was ancient, like the house; it had a thin and garrulous note;
and it was some time before it ceased to sound from the rear quarters of
the building. Following upon this an inner door was stealthily opened,
and careful and catlike steps drew near along the hall. Challoner,
supposing he was to be instantly admitted, produced his letter, and, as
well as he was able, prepared a smiling face. To his indescribable
surprise, however, the footsteps ceased, and then, after a pause and with
the like stealthiness, withdrew once more, and died away in the interior
of the house. A second time the young man rang violently at the bell; a
second time, to his keen hearkening, a certain bustle of discreet footing
moved upon the hollow boards of the old villa; and again the fainthearted
garrison only drew near to retreat. The cup of the visitor’s endurance
was now full to overflowing; and, committing the whole family of
Fonblanque to every mood and shade of condemnation, he turned upon his
heel and redescended the steps. Perhaps the mover in the house was
watching from a window, and plucked up courage at the sight of this
desistance; or perhaps, where he lurked trembling in the back parts of
the villa, reason in its own right had conquered his alarms. Challoner,
at least, had scarce set foot upon the pavement when he was arrested by
the sound of the withdrawal of an inner bolt; one followed another,
rattling in their sockets; the key turned harshly in the lock; the door
opened; and there appeared upon the threshold a man of a very stalwart
figure in his shirt sleeves. He was a person neither of great manly
beauty nor of a refined exterior; he was not the man, in ordinary moods,
to attract the eyes of the observer; but as he now stood in the doorway,
he was marked so legibly with the extreme passion of terror that
Challoner stood wonder-struck. For a fraction of a minute they gazed
upon each other in silence; and then the man of the house, with ashen
lips and gasping voice, inquired the business of his visitor. Challoner
replied, in tones from which he strove to banish his surprise, that he
was the bearer of a letter to a certain Miss Fonblanque. At this name,
as at a talisman, the man fell back and impatiently invited him to enter;
and no sooner had the adventurer crossed the threshold, than the door was
closed behind him and his retreat cut off.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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