The Mystery of the Downs | Page 4

his direction, but when he looked towards her she had her face still turned towards the door. Finally he made another effort to break down the barrier of silence between them.
"I suppose we must wait here until the storm has cleared away," he began. "It is a coincidence that both of us should have sought shelter in this empty house in the storm--I assume the house is empty for the time being or we would have heard from the inmates. My name is Marsland. I have been staying at Staveley, and I lost my way when out riding this afternoon--the downs seem endless. Perhaps you belong to the neighbourhood and know them thoroughly."
But instead of replying she made a swift step towards the door.
"Listen!" she cried. "What was that?"
He stood up also, and listened intently, but the only sounds that met his ears were the beating of the rain against the windows and the wind whistling mournfully round the old house. "I hear nothing--" he commenced.
But she interrupted him imperatively.
"Hush!" she cried. "Listen!" Her face was still turned away from him, but she held out a hand in his direction as though to enjoin silence.
They stood in silence, both listening intently. Somewhere a board creaked, and Marsland could hear the wind blowing, but that was all.
"I do not think it was anything," he said reassuringly. "These old houses have a way of creaking and groaning in a gale. You have become nervous through sitting here by yourself."
"Perhaps that is so," she assented in a friendlier tone than she had hitherto used. "But I thought--in fact, I felt--that somebody was moving about stealthily overhead."
"It was the wind sighing about the house," he said, sitting down again.
As he spoke, there was a loud crash in a room above--a noise as though china or glass had been broken. Marsland sprang to his feet.
"There is somebody in the house," he exclaimed.
"Who can it be?" she whispered.
"Probably some one who has more right here than we have," said Marsland soothingly. "He'll come downstairs and then we'll have to explain our presence here."
"The man who lives here is away," she replied, in a hushed tone of terror. "He lives here alone. If there is anybody in the house, it is some one who has no right here."
"If you are sure of that," said Marsland slowly, "I will go and see what has happened in the room above. The wind may have knocked something over. Will you stay here until I return?"
"No, no!" she cried, "I am too frightened now. I will go with you!"
He felt her hand on his sleeve as she spoke.
"In that case we may as well take this lamp," he said. "It will give more light than this." He put down his lantern and picked up the lamp from the table. "Come along, and see what havoc the wind has been playing with the furniture upstairs."
He led the way out of the room, carefully carrying the lamp, and the girl followed. They turned up the hall to the staircase. As the light of the lamp fell on the staircase they saw a piece of paper lying on one of the lower stairs. Marsland picked it up and was so mystified at what he saw on it that he placed the lamp on a stair above in order to study it more closely.
"What can this extraordinary thing mean?" he said to his companion. He put his left hand in the top pocket of his waistcoat, and then exclaimed: "I have lost my glasses; I cannot make this out without them."
She came close to him and looked at the paper.
The sheet was yellow with age, and one side of it was covered with figures and writing. There was a row of letters at the top of the sheet, followed by a circle of numerals, with more numerals in the centre of the circle. Underneath the circle appeared several verses of Scripture written in a small, cramped, but regular handwriting. The ink which had been used in constructing the cryptogram was faded brown with age, but the figures and the writing were clear and legible, and the whole thing bore evidence of patient and careful construction. "This is very strange," she said, in a frightened whisper.
Marsland thought she was referring to the diagrams on the paper.
"It is a mysterious sort of document, whoever owns it," he said. "I think I'll put it on the table in there and we will study it again when we come down after exploring the other parts of the house."
He picked up the lamp and went back to the room they had left. He deposited the sheet of paper on the table and placed the candlestick on it to keep it from being blown away by the wind.
"Now for the ghosts