The Silent House | Page 7

voice.
"But they have gone by this time!"
"Gone!"
"Yes," said Denzil rapidly. "I rang the bell, as I fancied there was some
fatal quarrel going on within. At once the light was put out, and as I
could attract no one to the door, I suppose the man and woman must
have fled."
For a moment or so Berwin said nothing, but his grip on Lucian's arm
relaxed, and he moved forward a few steps. "You must be mistaken, Mr.
Denzil," said he in altered tones, "there can be no person in my house. I
locked the door before I went out, and I have been absent at least two
hours."
"Then I must be mad, or dreaming!" retorted Lucian, with heat.
"We can soon prove if you are either of the two, sir. Come with me and
examine the house for yourself."
"Pardon me," said Denzil, drawing back, "it is none of my business.
But I warn you, Mr. Berwin, that others are more curious than I am.
Several times people have been known to be in your house while you
were absent, and your mode of life, secretive and strange, does not
commend itself to the householders in this neighbourhood. If you
persist in giving rise to gossip and scandal, some busybody may bring
the police on the scene."
"The police!" echoed the old man, now greatly alarmed, as would
appear from his shaking voice. "No! no! That will never do! My house
is my castle! The police dare not break into it! I am a peaceful and very
unfortunate gentleman, who wishes to live quietly. All this talk of
people being in my house is nonsense!"
"Yet you seemed afraid when I told you of the shadows," said Lucian

pointedly.
"Afraid! I am afraid of nothing!"
"Not even of those who are after you?" hinted Denzil, recalling the
conversation of the previous occasion.
Berwin gave a kind of eldritch shriek and stepped back a pace, as
though to place himself on his guard. "What--what do you know about
such--such things?" he panted.
"Only so much as you hinted at when I last saw you."
"Yes, yes! I was not myself on that night. The wine was in and the wit
was out."
"The truth also, it would seem," said Lucian drily, "judging by your
agitation then and now."
"I am an unfortunate gentleman," whimpered Berwin tremulously.
"If you will excuse me, sir, I shall leave you," said Lucian
ceremoniously. "It seems to be my fate to hold midnight conversations
with you in the cold, but I think this one had better be cut short."
"One moment," Mr. Berwin exclaimed. "You have been good enough
to place me on my guard as to the talk my quiet course of life is causing.
Pray add to your kindness by coming with me to my house and
exploring it from attic to basement. You will then see that there are no
grounds for scandal, and that the shadows you fancy you saw on the
blind are not those of real people."
"They can't be those of ghosts, at all events," replied Lucian, "as I never
heard, to my knowledge, that spirits could cast shadows."
"Well, come and see for yourself that the house is empty."
Warmly as this invitation was given, Lucian had some scruples about
accepting it. To explore an almost unfurnished mansion with a

complete stranger--and one with an ill reputation--at the midnight hour,
is not an enterprise to be coveted by any man, however bold he may be.
Still, Lucian had ample courage, and more curiosity, for the adventure,
as the chance of it stirred up that desire for romance which belongs
peculiarly to youth. Also he was anxious to satisfy himself concerning
the blind shadows, and curious to learn why Berwin inhabited so
dismal and mysterious a mansion. Add to these reasons a keen pleasure
in profiting by the occurrence of the unexpected, and you will guess
that Denzil ended by accepting the strange invitation of Berwin.
Being now fully committed to the adventure, he went forward with cool
courage and an observant eye, to spy out, if possible, the secret upon
which hinged these mysteries.
As on the former occasion, Berwin inducted his guest into the
sitting-room, and here, as previously, a dainty supper was spread.
Berwin turned up the lamp light and waved his hand round the
luxuriously furnished room, pointing particularly to the space between
table and window.
"The figures whose shadows you saw," said he, "must have struggled
together in this space, so as to be between the lamp and the blind for
the performance of their pantomime. But I would have you observe, Mr.
Denzil, that there is no disturbance of the furniture to show that such a
struggle as you describe