A Master of Mysteries | Page 4

me."
"And in what way?" he asked, not stiffly, but with a keen, inquiring, interested glance.
"I have been sent down from London to inquire into the Wentworth mystery," I said.
"Is that so?" he said, with a start. Then he continued gravely: "I fear you have come on a wild-goose chase. There was nothing discovered at the autopsy to account for the death. There were no marks on the body, and all the organs were healthy. I met Wentworth often while he was staying here, and he was as hearty and strong-looking a young man as I have ever come across."
"But the Castle Inn has a bad reputation," I said.
"That is true; the people here are afraid of it. It is said to be haunted. But really, sir, you and I need not trouble ourselves about stupid reports of that sort. Old Bindloss, the landlord, has lived there for years, and there has never been anything proved against him."
"Is he alone?"
"No; his wife and a grandchild live there also."
"A grandchild?" I said. "Did not this girl give some startling evidence at the inquest?"
"Nothing of any consequence," replied Dr. Stanmore; "she only repeated what Bindloss had already said himself--that the house was haunted, and that she had asked Wentworth not to sleep in the room."
"Has anything ever been done to explain the reason why this room is said to be haunted?" I continued.
"Not that I know of. Rats are probably at the bottom of it."
"But have not there been other deaths in the house?"
"That is true."
"How many?"
"Well, I have myself attended no less than three similar inquests."
"And what was the verdict of the jury?"
"In each case the verdict was death from syncope."
"Which means, cause unknown," I said, jumping impatiently to my feet. "I wonder, Dr. Stanmore, that you are satisfied to leave the matter in such a state."
"And, pray, what can I do?" he inquired. "I am asked to examine a body. I find all the organs in perfect health; I cannot trace the least appearance of violence, nor can I detect poison. What other evidence can I honestly give?"
"I can only say that I should not be satisfied," I replied. "I now wish to add that I have come down from London determined to solve this mystery. I shall myself put up at the Castle Inn."
"Well?" said Dr. Stanmore.
"And sleep in the haunted room."
"Of course you don't believe in the ghost."
"No; but I believe in foul play. Now, Dr. Stanmore, will you help me?"
"Most certainly, if I can. What do you wish me to do?"
"This--I shall go to the Castle Inn to-morrow. If at the end of three days I do not return here, will you go in search of me, and at the same time post this letter to Mr. Edgcombe, my London lawyer?"
"If you do not appear in three days I'll kick up no end of a row," said Dr. Stanmore, "and, of course, post your letter."
Soon afterwards I shook hands with the doctor and left him.
After an early dinner on the following day, I parted with my good-natured landlord and his wife, and with my knapsack and kodak strapped over my shoulders, started on my way. I took care to tell no one that I was going to the Castle Inn, and for this purpose doubled back through a wood, and so found the right road. The sun was nearly setting when at last I approached a broken-down signpost, on which, in half-obliterated characters, I could read the words, "To the Castle Inn." I found myself now at the entrance of a small lane, which was evidently little frequented, as it was considerably grass-grown. From where I stood I could catch no sight of any habitation, but just at that moment a low, somewhat inconsequent laugh fell upon my ears. I turned quickly and saw a pretty girl, with bright eyes and a childish face, gazing at me with interest. I had little doubt that she was old Bindloss's grand-daughter.
"Will you kindly tell me," I asked, "if this is the way to the Castle Inn?"
My remark evidently startled her. She made a bound forward, seized me by my hand, and tried to push me away from the entrance to the lane into the high road.
"Go away!" she cried; "we have no beds fit for gentlemen at the Castle Inn. Go! go!" she continued, and she pointed up the winding road. Her eyes were now blazing in her head, but I noticed that her lips trembled, and that very little would cause her to burst into tears.
"But I am tired and footsore," I answered. "I should like to put up at the inn for the night."
"Don't!" she repeated; "they'll put you into a room with a ghost. Don't go; 'tain't a place for gentlemen." Here she burst not into tears,