The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
General
The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction; Ghost stories
The day was accordingly fixed. I repaired to the haunted house,--
we went into the blind, dreary room, took up the skirting, and then
the floors. Under the rafters, covered with rubbish, was found a
trapdoor, quite large enough to admit a man. It was closely nailed
down, with clamps and rivets of iron. On removing these we
descended into a room below, the existence of which had never been
suspected. In this room there had been a window and a flue, but
they had been bricked over, evidently for many years. By the help
of candles we examined this place; it still retained some moldering
furniture,--three chairs, an oak settle, a table,--all of the
fashion of about eighty years ago. There was a chest of drawers
against the wall, in which we found, half rotted away, old-
fashioned articles of a man's dress, such as might have been worn
eighty or a hundred years ago by a gentleman of some rank; costly
steel buckles and buttons, like those yet worn in court dresses, a
handsome court sword; in a waistcoat which had once been rich with
gold lace, but which was now blackened and foul with damp, we found
five guineas, a few silver coins, and an ivory ticket, probably for
some place of entertainment long since passed away. But our main
discovery was in a kind of iron safe fixed to the wall, the lock of
which it cost us much trouble to get picked.
In this safe were three shelves and two small drawers. Ranged on
the shelves were several small bottles of crystal, hermetically
stopped. They contained colorless, volatile essences, of the
nature of which I shall only say that they were not poisons,--
phosphor and ammonia entered into some of them. There were also
some very curious glass tubes, and a small pointed rod of iron,
with a large lump of rock crystal, and another of amber,--also a
loadstone of great power.
In one of the drawers we found a miniature portrait set in gold,
and retaining the freshness of its colors most remarkably,
considering the length of time it had probably been there. The
portrait was that of a man who might be somewhat advanced in middle
life, perhaps forty-seven or forty-eight. It was a remarkable
face,--a most impressive face. If you could fancy some mighty
serpent transformed into man, preserving in the human lineaments
the old serpent type, you would have a better idea of that
countenance than long descriptions can convey: the width and
flatness of frontal; the tapering elegance of contour disguising
the strength of the deadly jaw; the long, large, terrible eye,
glittering and green as the emerald,--and withal a certain ruthless
calm, as if from the consciousness of an immense power.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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