The Plattner Story, and OthersWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Science
The Plattner Story, and Others
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories, English
"And are you really going?" said the man with the shade, looking at me
again for the third time, with that queer, unnatural tilting of the
face.
("This night of all nights!" said the old woman.)
"It is what I came for," I said, and moved towards the door. As I did
so, the old man with the shade rose and staggered round the table, so
as to be closer to the others and to the fire. At the door I turned
and looked at them, and saw they were all close together, dark against
the firelight, staring at me over their shoulders, with an intent
expression on their ancient faces.
"Good-night," I said, setting the door open.
"It's your own choosing," said the man with the withered arm.
I left the door wide open until the candle was well alight, and then I
shut them in and walked down the chilly, echoing passage.
I must confess that the oddness of these three old pensioners in
whose charge her ladyship had left the castle, and the deep-toned,
old-fashioned furniture of the housekeeper's room in which they
foregathered, affected me in spite of my efforts to keep myself at a
matter-of-fact phase. They seemed to belong to another age, an older
age, an age when things spiritual were different from this of ours,
less certain; an age when omens and witches were credible, and ghosts
beyond denying. Their very existence was spectral; the cut of their
clothing, fashions born in dead brains. The ornaments and conveniences
of the room about them were ghostly--the thoughts of vanished men,
which still haunted rather than participated in the world of to-day.
But with an effort I sent such thoughts to the right-about. The long,
draughty subterranean passage was chilly and dusty, and my candle
flared and made the shadows cower and quiver. The echoes rang up and
down the spiral staircase, and a shadow came sweeping up after me, and
one fled before me into the darkness overhead. I came to the landing
and stopped there for a moment, listening to a rustling that I fancied
I heard; then, satisfied of the absolute silence, I pushed open the
baize-covered door and stood in the corridor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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