The Silent House | Page 3

his lips than the stranger drew back
suddenly, with a hasty exclamation. Some suspicion seemed to
engender a mixture of terror and defiance which placed him on his
guard against undue intimacy, even when some undefined fear was
knocking at his heart. "Who are you?" he demanded in a steadier tone.
"How do you know my name?"
"My name is Denzil, Mr. Berwin, and I live in one of the houses of this
square. As you mention No. 13, I know you can be none other than Mr.
Mark Berwin, the tenant of the Silent House."
"The dweller in the haunted house," sneered Berwin, evidently relieved,
"who stays there with ghosts, and worse than ghosts."
"Worse than ghosts?"
"The phantoms of my own sins, young man. I have sowed folly, and
now I am reaping the crop. I am----" Here his further speech was
interrupted by a fit of coughing, which shook his lean figure severely.
At its conclusion he was so exhausted that he was forced to support
himself against the railings. "A portion of the crop," he murmured.
Lucian was sorry for the man, who seemed scarcely capable of looking
after himself, and he thought it unwise to leave him in such a plight. At
the same time, he was impatient of lingering in the heart of the clammy
fog at such a late hour; so, as his companion seemed indisposed to
move, he caught him again by the arm without ceremony. The abrupt
action seemed to waken again the fears of Berwin.
"Where would you take me?" he asked, resisting the gentle force used
by Lucian.
"To your own house. You will be ill if you stay here."
"You are not one of them?" asked the man suddenly.
"One of whom?"

"One of those who wish to harm me?"
Denzil began to think he had to do with a madman, and to gain his ends
he spoke to him in a soothing manner, as he would to a child: "I wish to
do you good, Mr. Berwin," said he gently. "Come to your home."
"Home! home! Ah, God, I have no home!"
Nevertheless, he gathered himself together, and with his arm in that of
his guide, stumbled along in the thick, chill mist. Lucian knew the
position of No. 13 well, as it almost faced the lodgings occupied by
himself, and by skirting the railings with due caution, he managed to
half lead, half drag his companion to the house. When they stood
before the door, and Berwin had assured himself that he was actually
home by the use of his latch-key, Denzil wished him a curt good-night.
"And I should advise you to go to bed at once," he concluded, turning
to descend the steps.
"Don't go! Don't go!" cried Berwin, seizing the young man by the arm.
"I am afraid to go in by myself--all is so dark and cold! Wait until I get
a light!"
As the creature's nerves seemed to be unhinged by over-indulgence in
alcohol, and he stood gasping and shivering on the threshold like some
beaten animal, Lucian took compassion on him.
"I'll see you indoors," said he, and striking a match, stepped into the
darkness after the man. The hall of No. 13 seemed to be almost as cold
as the world without, and the trifling glimmer of the lucifer served
rather to reveal than dispel the surrounding darkness. The light, as it
were, hollowed a gulf out of the tremendous gloom and made the house
tenfold more ghostly than before. The footsteps of Denzil and Berwin
sounding on the bare boards--for the hall was uncarpeted--waked
hollow echoes, and when they paused the silence which ensued seemed
almost menacing. The grim reputation of the mansion, its gloom and
silence, appealed powerfully to the latent superstition of Lucian. How
much more nearly, then, would it touch the shaken and excited nerves
of the tragic drunkard who dwelt continually amid its terrors!

Berwin opened a door on the right-hand side of the hall and turned up
the light of a handsome oil-lamp which had been screwed down
pending his arrival. This lamp was placed on a small square table
covered with a white cloth and a dainty cold supper. The young
barrister noted that the napery, cutlery, and crystal were all of the finest;
that the viands were choice; that champagne and claret were the
beverages. Evidently Berwin was a luxurious gentleman and indulgent
to his appetites.
Lucian tried to gain a long look at him in the mellow light, but Berwin
kept his face turned away, and seemed as anxious now for his visitor to
go as he had been for him to enter. Denzil, quick in comprehension,
took the hint at once.
"I'll go now, as you have the light burning," said