Europe -- Fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction; War stories
"Yes. I recall just how he looked as he stood on the porch, his head
bent, his shoulders stooped, twirling his hat in his hands, while mother
and I examined him as to his qualifications," she said. "I remember his
words. He said that he knew flowers and that, like him, flowers could
not hear; but perhaps he would be all the better gardener because he
could not hear. He was so ingratiating; yet his deafness seemed such a
drawback that I hesitated."
Following the path to the tower leisurely, they had reached the tower.
Feller's door was open. Marta looked into the room, finding in the neat
arrangement of its furniture a new significance. He was absent, for it
was the dinner hour.
"And on my recommendation you took him," Lanstron continued.
"Yes, on yours, Lanny, on a friend's! You"--she put a cold emphasis on
the word--"you wanted him here for your plans! And why? You haven't
answered that yet. What purpose of the war game does he serve in our
garden?"
His look pleaded for patience, while he tried to smile, which was rather
difficult in face of her attitude.
"Not altogether in the garden; partly in the tower," he replied. "You
are to be in the whole secret and in such a way as to make my temptation
clear, I hope. First, I think you ought to see the setting. Let us go
in"
Impelled by the fascination of Feller's romantic story and by a
curiosity that Lanstron's manner accentuated, she entered the room.
Apparently Lanstron was familiar with the premises. Passing through the
sitting-room into the room adjoining, where Feller stored his tools, he
opened a door that gave onto the circular stone steps leading down into
the dungeon tunnel.
"I think we had better have a light," he said, and when he had fetched
one from the bedchamber he descended the steps, asking her to follow.
They were in a passage six feet in height and about three feet broad,
which seemed to lead on indefinitely into clammy darkness. The dewy
stone walls sparkled in fantastic and ghostly iridescence under the rays
from the lantern. The dank air lay moist against their faces.
"It's a long time since I've been here," said Marta, glad to break the
uncanny sound of their footsteps in the weird silence with her voice.
"Not since I was a youngster. Then I came on a dare to see if there were
goblins. There weren't any; at least, none that cared to manifest
himself to me."
"We have a goblin here now that we are nursing for the Grays--an
up-to-date one that is quite visible," said Lanstron. "This is far
enough." He paused and raised the lantern. With its light full in her
face, she blinked. "There, at the height of your chin!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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