The Argosy | Page 3

procedure necessary to be observed
when I pay my midnight visits to Sir John Chillington."
"It is not my intention that you should visit Sir John," said Sister Agnes.
"That portion of my old duties will continue to be performed by me."
"Not until you are stronger--not until your health is better than it is
now," said Janet earnestly. "I am young and strong; it is merely a part
of what I have undertaken to do, and you must please let me do it. I
have outgrown my childish fears, and could visit the Black Room now
without the quiver of a nerve."
"You think so by daylight, but wait until the house is dark and silent,
and then say the same conscientiously, if you can do so."
But Janet was determined not to yield the point, nor could Sister Agnes
move her from her decision. Ultimately a compromise was entered into
by which it was agreed that for one evening at least they should visit
the Black Room together, and that the settlement of the question should
be left until the following day.
Precisely as midnight struck they set out together up the wide,

old-fashioned staircase, past the door of Janet's old room, up the
narrower staircase beyond, until the streak of light came into view and
the grim, nail-studded door itself was reached. Janet was secretly glad
that she was not there alone; so much she acknowledged to herself as
they halted for a moment while Sister Agnes unlocked the door. But
when the latter asked her if she were not afraid, if she would not much
rather be snug in bed, Janet only said: "Give me the key; tell me what I
have to do inside the room, and then leave me."
But Sister Agnes would not consent to that, and they entered the room
together. Instead of seven years, it seemed to Janet only seven hours
since she had been there last, so vividly was the recollection of her first
visit still impressed upon her mind. Everything was unchanged in that
chamber of the dead, except, perhaps, the sprawling cupids on the
ceiling, which looked a shade dingier than of old, and more in need of
soap and water than ever. But the black draperies on the walls, the huge
candles in the silver tripods, the pall-covered coffin in the middle of the
room, were all as Janet had seen them last. There, too, was the oaken
prie-dieu a yard or two away from the head of the coffin. Sister Agnes
knelt on it for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer.
"My visit to this room every midnight," said Sister Agnes, "is made for
the simple purpose of renewing the candles, and of seeing that
everything is as it should be. That the visit should be made at midnight,
and at no other time, is one of Lady Chillington's whims--a whim that
by process of time has crystallised into a law. The room is never
entered by day."
"Was it whim or madness that caused Sir John Chillington to leave
orders that his body should be kept above ground for twenty years?"
"Who shall tell by what motive he was influenced when he had that
particular clause inserted in his will? Deepley Walls itself hangs on the
proper fulfilment of the clause. If Lady Chillington were to cause her
husband's remains to be interred in the family vault before the expiry of
the twenty years, the very day she did so the estate would pass from her
to the present baronet, a distant cousin, between whom and her
ladyship there has been a bitter feud of many years' standing. Although

Deepley Walls has been in the family for a hundred and fifty years, it
has never been entailed. The entailed estate is in Yorkshire, and there
Sir Mark, the present baronet, resides. Lady Chillington has the power
of bequeathing Deepley Walls to whomsoever she may please,
providing she carry out strictly the instructions contained in her
husband's will. It is possible that in a court of law the will might have
been set aside on the ground of insanity, or the whole matter might
have been thrown into Chancery. But Lady Chillington did not choose
to submit to such an ordeal. All the courts of law in the kingdom could
have given her no more than she possessed already--they could merely
have given her permission to bury her husband's body, and it did not
seem to her that such a permission could compensate for turning into
public gossip a private chapter of family history. So here Sir John
Chillington has remained since his death, and here he will stay till the
last of the twenty years has become a thing of the past. Two