The Mystery of the Downs | Page 4

of asking her
to sit down, but he reflected that such an invitation might savour of
impertinence. He could dimly see the outline of her profile, and judged
her to be young and pretty. Once he thought she glanced in 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