Chinese -- England -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
"No. There was not a single person, so far as I know, who went down
those steps. Tung-yu certainly did,--but that was after the crime was
committed, and we know he did not carry the fan with him. It is a very
strange case. Perhaps after all, Tidman had already killed the woman
when he joined me on the beach to smoke."
"Oh Rupert, how horrid. Was he disturbed?"
"He certainly seemed rather alarmed but I put that down to the
circumstances. He never shook off his fear of that adventure he had in
Canton, and of course the mere presence of Chinamen would make him
uneasy. But he kept his own council. However, we can talk of this later.
I must see Mrs. Petley," and Rupert disappeared.
The housekeeper stuck to her story. She had gone into the cloisters to
gather mushrooms which grew therein, and had the lantern with her. While
stooping at the archway to see what she could pick she heard, even
through the moaning of the wind the swish of a long garment. The sound
brought her to her feet, and--as she phrased it--with her heart in her
mouth. The place was uncanny and she had seen the Abbot before. "But
never so plain--oh never so plain," wailed Mrs. Petley, throwing her
apron over her white hair and rocking. "I held the light over my head
and dropped it with a screech, for, there, not a yard away, Master
Rupert, I saw it, with a long gown and a hood over its wicked white
face--"
"Did you see the face?"
"I did, just as I dropped the lantern. White and wicked and evil. I
dropped on my knees and said a prayer with closed eyes and then it went.
I took the lantern and ran for the house for dear life, till I burst in
on you and the mistress. Oh, Master Rupert dear, what did you see?"
"Nothing! And I believe, Mrs. Petley, you beheld some rascal
masquerading."
"No! No! T'was a ghost--oh dreary me, my days are numbered."
Mrs. Petley could not be persuaded that the thing she saw was flesh and
blood, so Rupert gave up trying to convince her. He returned the lantern
back to old John and told the couple to retire to bed. They were both
white and nervous and not fit to be up. Then he came back to the
drawing-room and found Olivia seated by the fire reading. At the door
Rupert paused to think what a pretty picture she made in her rich
dinner-dress--one of Miss Wharf's gifts--and with one small hand
supporting her dainty head. She looked up, as though she felt the magic
of his gaze, and he approached swiftly to press a kiss on the hand she
held out to him. "Well?" asked Olivia.
Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing to be learned," said he,
"Mrs. Petley won't give in. She believes she has seen a ghost, and
declares that her days are numbered. As she is nearly seventy, I
daresay they are. But this fan,"--he took it out of his pocket.
"Let me see it," said Olivia stretching out her hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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