The Mystery of the LocksHowe, E. W. (Edgar Watson)
General
The Mystery of the Locks
Howe, E. W. (Edgar Watson)
City and town life -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mystery fiction; Nebraska -- Fiction
"You may register me as Allan Dorris," he said at last, getting up from
his chair, and looking confused, "from Nowhere-in-Particular. It is not
important where I am from, so long as I am responsible; and I will
convince your proprietor of that in the morning. You will oblige me if
you will step over to the quarters of the old lady you spoke of, and
inform her that there is a new master at The Locks, and that he has
taken possession. When you return I will show you out."
"I neglected to mention," Silas says, after making a note of what the
stranger has said on an envelope, "that you can open and close the gate
from this room, and lock and unlock it. There is also a speaking-tube
leading from this room, whereby you can converse with persons on the
outside. I will call you up when I go out. It is located here, behind
the door."
The two men step over to examine it, and Tug creeps in to look too, and
after sighting at it awhile returns to the hall.
The apparatus consists of an iron lever, with a show of chains running
over pulleys and disappearing through the floor, and a speaking-tube.
Silas explains that when the lever is up the gate is open, and when it
is down the gate is shut and locked. Both men try it, and conclude that,
with a little oil, it will work very well, leaving it open so that the
men may pass out.
There being no further excuse for remaining, Silas and his ugly friend
start down the stairs, the stranger holding the light at the top; and
after they have passed out of the door and slammed it to work the spring
lock, and tried it to see that it is locked, Allan Dorris returns to the
room they have just left.
The grate in the room is filled with wood, and there is kindling at the
bottom, probably put there years before, judging by the dust; and the
stranger lights this, intending to dry his wet clothing. While about it
there is a whistle from the speaking-tube, and going over to it and
replying, a sepulchral voice comes to him from somewhere to the effect
that Mrs. Wedge, the housekeeper, is delighted to hear that the house is
to be occupied at last; that she will call upon the new master in the
morning to pay her respects, as well as to make her arrangements for the
future; and, good night.
The stranger says good night in return, pulls the lever down, which
closes and locks the gate, and returns to the fire, which is burning
brightly by this time.
"Allan Dorris, from Nowhere-in-Particular," he mutters after he is
seated, and while watching his steaming garments. There is an amused
look on his face at first, as he repeats the name, but a frown soon
takes its place, that grows blacker as he crouches down into his chair,
and looks at the fire.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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