The Haunting of Low Fennel

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  THE HAUNTING OF LOW FENNEL

  * * * * *

  _UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME._

  ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN KETTLE. BY C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE.

  THE LOVERS OF YVONNE. BY RAFAEL SABATINI.

  THE MARRIAGE OF MARGARET. BY E. M. ALBANESI.

  THE SECRET WAY. BY J. S. FLETCHER.

  CAPTAIN KETTLE, K.C.B. BY C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE.

  * * * * *

  THE HAUNTING OF LOW FENNEL

  by

  SAX ROHMER

  Author of "Brood of the Witch Queen,""The Quest of the Sacred Slipper," etc., etc.

  London:C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.Henrietta Street, W.C. 2

  First Published 1920Reprinted 1924

  Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London

  CONTENTS

  PAGE THE HAUNTING OF LOW FENNEL 11

  THE VALLEY OF THE JUST 61

  THE BLUE MONKEY 97

  THE RIDDLE OF RAGSTAFF 119

  THE MASTER OF HOLLOW GRANGE 157

  THE CURSE OF A THOUSAND KISSES 189

  THE TURQUOISE NECKLACE 213

  The Haunting of Low Fennel

  I

  "There's Low Fennel," said Major Dale.

  We pulled up short on the brow of the hill. Before me lay a littlevalley carpeted with heather, purple slopes hemming it in. A group offour tall firs guarded the house, which was couched in the hollow of thedip--a low, rambling building, in parts showing evidence of great ageand in other parts of the modern improver.

  "That's the new wing," continued the Major, raising his stick;"projecting out this way. It's the only addition I've made to the house,which, as it stood, had insufficient accommodation for the servants."

  "It is a quaint old place."

  "It is, and I'm loath to part with it, especially as it means a bigloss."

  "Ah! Have you formed any theories since wiring me?"

  "None whatever. I've always been a sceptic, Addison, but if Low Fennelis not haunted, I'm a Dutchman, by the Lord Harry!"

  I laughed reassuringly, and the two of us descended the slope to thewhite gate giving access to a trim gravel path flanked by standardroses. Mrs. Dale greeted us at the door. She was, as I had heard, muchyounger than the Major, and a distinctly pretty woman. In so far DameRumour was confirmed; other things I had heard of her, but I was not yetin a position to pass judgment.

  She greeted me cordially enough, although women are usually naturalactresses. I thought that she did not suspect the real object of myvisit. Tea was served in a delightful little drawing-room which boreevidence of having but recently left the hands of London decorators, butwhen presently I found myself alone with my host in the Major's peculiarsanctum, the real business afoot monopolised our conversation.

  The room which Major Dale had appropriated as a study was on the groundfloor of the new wing--the wing which he himself had had built on to LowFennel. In regard to its outlook it was a charming apartment enough,with roses growing right up to the open window, so that their perfumefilled the place, and beyond, a prospect of purple heather slopes andfir-clad hills.

  Sporting prints decorated the walls, and the library was entirely, oralmost entirely, made up of works on riding, hunting, shooting, racing,and golf, with a sprinkling of Whyte-Melville and Nat Gould novels and aMurray handbook or two. It was a most cosy room, probably because it wasso untidy, or, as Mrs. Dale phrased it, "so manny."

  On a side table was ranked enough liquid refreshment to have inebriateda regiment, and, in one corner, cigar-boxes and tobacco-tins werestacked from the floor some two feet up against the wall. We were sooncomfortably ensconced, then, the Major on a hard leather couch, and I ina deep saddle-bag chair.

  "It's an awkward sort of thing to explain," began Dale, puffing away ata cigar and staring through the open window; "because, if you're to doanything, you will want full particulars."

  I nodded.

  "Well," the Major continued, "you've heard how that blackguard Ellis letme down over those shares? The result?--I had to sell the Hall--FennelHall, where a Dale has been since the time of Elizabeth! But still,never mind! that's not the story. This place, Low Fennel, is reallypart of the estate, and I have leased it from Meyers, who has bought theHall. It was formerly the home farm, but since my father's time it hasnot been used for that purpose. The New Farm is over the brow of thehill there, on the other side of the high road; my father built it."

  "Why?"

  "Well,"--Dale shifted uneasily and a look of perplexity crossed hisjolly, red face--"there were stories--uncomfortable stories. To cut along story short, Seager--a man named Seager, who occupied it at thetime I was at Sandhurst--was found dead here, or something; I never wasclear as to the particulars, but there was an inquiry and a lot of fuss,and, in short, no one would occupy the property. Therefore the governorbuilt the New Farm."

  "Low Fennel has been empty for many years then?"

  "No, sir; only for one. Ord, the head gardener at the Hall, lived hereup till last September. The old story about Seager was dying out, yousee; but Ord must have got to hear about it--or I've always supposedso. At any rate, in September--a dam' hot September, too, almost if notquite as hot as this--Ord declined to live here any longer."

  "On what grounds?"

  "He told me a cock-and-bull story about his wife having seen ahorrible-looking man with a contorted face peering in at her bedroomwindow! I questioned the woman, of course, and she swore to it."

  He mopped his heated brow excitedly, and burnt several matches before hesucceeded in relighting his cigar.

  "She tried to make me believe that she woke up and saw this apparition,but I bullied the truth out of her, and, as I expected, the man Ord hadcome home the worse for drink. I made up my mind that the contorted facewas the face of her drunken husband--whom she had declined to admit, andwho therefore had climbed the ivy to get in at the open window."

  "She denied this?"

  "Of course she denied it; they both did; but, from evidence obtained atthe _Three Keys_ in the village, I proved that Ord had returned homedrunk that night. Still"--he shrugged his shoulders ponderously--"thepeople declined to remain in the place, so what could I do? Ord was agood gardener, and his drunken habits in no way interfered with hisefficiency. He gained nothing out of the matter except that, insteadof keeping Low Fennel, a fine house, I sent him to live in one of theValley Cottages. He lives there now, for he's still head gardener atthe Hall."

  I made an entry in my notebook.

  "I must see Ord," I said.

  "I should," agreed the Major in his loud voice; "you'll get nothing outof him. He's the most pig-headed liar in the county! But to continue.The place proved unlettable. All the old stories were revived, and I'mtold that people cheerfully went two miles out of their way in order toavoid passing Low Fennel at night! When I sold the Hall and decided tolease the place from the new proprietor, believe me it was almost hiddenin a wilderness of weeds and bushes which had grown up around it. By theLord Harry, I don't think a living soul had approached within a hundredyards of the house since the day that the Ords quitted it! But it suitedmy purpose, being inexpensive to keep up; and by adding this new wing Iwas enabled to accommodate such servants as we required. The horses andthe car had to go, of course, and with them a lot of my old people
, butwe brought the housekeeper and three servants, and when a London firmhad rebuilt, renovated, decorated, and so forth, it began to lookhabitable."

  "It's a charming place," I said with sincerity.

  "Is it!" snapped the Major, tossing his half-smoked cigar on to a sidetable and selecting a fresh one from a large box at his elbow. "Helpyourself, the bottle's near you. Is it!... Hullo! what have we here?"

  He broke off, cigar in hand, as the sound of footsteps upon the gravelpath immediately outside the window became audible. Through the clusterof roses peered a handsome face, that of a dark man, whose soft-grey hatand loose tie lent him a sort of artistic appearance.

  "Oh, it's you, Wales!" cried the Major, but without cordiality. "See youin half an hour or so; little bit of business in hand at the moment,Marjorie's somewhere about."

  "All right!" called the new arrival, and, waving his hand, passed on.

  "It's young Aubrey Wales," explained Dale, almost savagely bitingthe end from his cigar, "son of Sir Frederick Wales, and one of myneighbours. He often drops in."

  Mentally considering the Major's attitude, certain rumours which hadreached me, and the youth and beauty of Mrs. Dale, I concluded that thevisits of Aubrey Wales were not too welcome to my old friend. But heresumed in a louder voice than ever:--

  "It was last night that the fun began. I can make neither head nor tailof it. If the blessed place is haunted, why have we seen nothing of theghost during the two months or so we have lived at Low Fennel? The factremains that nothing unusual happened until last night. It came aboutowing to the infernal heat.

  "Mrs. Alson, the housekeeper, came down about two o'clock, intending, soI understand, to get a glass of cider from the barrel in the cellar. Shecould not sleep owing to the heat, and felt extremely thirsty. There's aqueer sort of bend in the stair--I'll show you in a minute; and as shecame down and reached this bend she met a man, or a thing, who was goingup! The moonlight was streaming in through the window right upon thatcorner of the stair, and the apparition stood fully revealed.

  "I gather that it was that of an almost naked man. Mrs. Alson naturallyis rather reticent on the point, but I gather that the apparition wasinadequately clothed. Regarding the face of the thing she supplies moredetails. Addison"--the Major leant forward across the table--"it wasthe face of a demon, a contorted devilish face, the eyes crossed, andglaring like the eyes of a mad dog!

  "Of course the poor woman fainted dead away on the spot. She might havedied there if it hadn't been for the amazing heat of the night. Thiscertainly was the cause of her trouble, but it also saved her. Aboutthree o'clock I woke up in a perfect bath of perspiration. I neverremember such a night, not even in India, and, as Mrs. Alson had donean hour earlier, I also started to find a drink. Addison! I nearly fellover her as she lay swooning on the stair!"

  He helped himself to a liberal tot of whisky, then squirted soda intothe glass.

  "For once in a way I did the right thing, Addison. Not wishing toalarm Marjorie, I knocked up one of the maids, and when Mrs. Alson hadsomewhat recovered, gave her into the girl's charge. I sat downstairshere in this room until she could see me, and then got the particularswhich I've given you. I wired you as soon as the office was open; for Isaid to myself, 'Dale, the devilry has begun again. If Marjorie gets tohear of it there'll be hell to pay. She won't live in the place.'"

  He stood up abruptly, as a ripple of laughter reached us from thegarden.

  "Suppose we explore the scene of the trouble?" he suggested, movingtoward the door.

  I thought in the circumstance our inspection might be a hurried one;therefore:

  "Should you mind very much if I sought it out for myself?" I said. "Itis my custom in cases of the kind to be alone if possible."

  "My dear fellow, certainly!"

  "My ramble concluded, I will rejoin Mrs. Dale and yourself--say on thelawn?"

  "Good, good!" cried the Major, throwing open the door. "An opening hasbeen made on the floor above corresponding with this, and communicatingwith the old stair. Go where you like; find out what you can; butremember--not a word to Marjorie."

  II

  Filled with the liveliest curiosity, I set out to explore LowFennel. First I directed my attention to the exterior, commencing myinvestigations from the front. That part of the building on either sideof the door was evidently of Tudor date, with a Jacobean wing to thewest containing apartments overlooking the lawn--the latter a Georgianaddition; whilst the new east wing, built by Major Dale, carried thebuilding out almost level with the clump of fir-trees, and into the veryheart of the ferns and bushes which here grew densely.

  There was no way around on this side, and not desiring to cross the lawnat present, I passed in through the house to the garden at the back.This led me through the northern part of the building and the servants'quarters, which appeared to be of even greater age than the front of thehouse. The fine old kitchen in particular was suggestive of the dayswhen roasting was done upon a grand scale.

  Beyond the flower garden lay the kitchen garden, and beyond that theorchard. The latter showed evidences of neglect, bearing out the Major'sstory that the place had been unoccupied for twelve months; but itwas evident, nevertheless, that the soil had been cultivated for manygenerations. Thus far I had discovered nothing calculated to assistme in my peculiar investigation, and entering the house I began aroom-to-room quest, which, beyond confirming most of my earlierimpressions, afforded little data.

  The tortuous stairway, which had been the scene of the event describedby my host, occupied me for some time, and I carefully examined thetime-blackened panels, and tested each separate stair, for in houseslike Low Fennel secret passages and "priest-holes" were to be lookedfor. However, I discovered nothing, but descending again to the hall Imade a small discovery.

  There were rooms in Low Fennel which one entered by descending orascending two or three steps, but this was entirely characteristic ofthe architectural methods of the period represented. I was surprised,however, to find that one mounted three steps in order to obtainaccess to the passage leading to the new wing. I had overlooked thispeculiarity hitherto, but now it struck me as worthy of attention. Whyshould a modern architect introduce such a device? It could only meanthat the ground was higher on the east side of the building, and that,for some reason, it had proved more convenient to adopt the existingfoundations than to level the site.

  I returned to the hall-way and stood there deep in thought, when thecontact of a rough tongue with my hand drew my attention to a youngAiredale terrier who was anxious to make my acquaintance. I patted hishead encouragingly, and, having reviewed the notes made during my tourof inspection, determined to repeat the tour in order to check them.

  The Airedale accompanied me, behaving himself with admirable proprietyas we passed around the house and then out through the kitchens intothe garden. It was not until my journey led me back to the three steps,communicating with the new wing, that my companion seemed disposed todesert me.

  At first I ascribed his attitude to mere canine caprice. But whenhe persistently refused to be encouraged, I began to ascribe it tosomething else.

  Suddenly grasping him by the collar, I dragged him up the steps, alongthe corridor, and into the Major's study. The result was extraordinary.I think I have never seen a dog in quite the same condition; hewhimpered and whined most piteously. At the door he struggled furiously,and even tried to snap at my hand. Then, as I still kept a firm gripupon him, he set out upon a series of howls which must have been audiblefor miles around. Finally I released him, having first closed the studydoor, and lowered the window. What followed was really amazing.

  The Airedale hurled himself upon the closed door, scratching at itfuriously, with intermittent howling; then, crouching down, he turnedhis eyes upon me with a look in them, not savage, but truly piteous.Seeing that I did not move, the dog began to whimper again; when,suddenly making up his mind, as it seemed, he bounded across the roomand went crashing through the glass of the closed windo
w into the rosebushes, leaving me standing looking after him in blank wonderment.

  III

  Aubrey Wales stayed to dinner, and since he had no opportunity ofdressing, his presence afforded a welcome excuse for the other membersof the party. The night was appallingly hot; the temperature being suchas to preclude the slightest exertion. The Major was an excellent host,but I could see that the presence of the younger man irritated him, andat times the conversation grew strained; there was an uncomfortabletension. So that altogether I was not sorry when Mrs. Dale left thetable and the quartet was broken up. On closer acquaintance I perceivedthat Wales was even younger than I had supposed, and therefore I was themore inclined to condone his infatuation for the society of Mrs. Dale,although I felt less sympathetically disposed toward her for offeringhim the encouragement which rather openly she did.

  Ere long, Wales left Major Dale and myself for the more congenialsociety of the hostess; so that shortly afterwards, when the Major,who took at least as much wine as was good for him, began to doze inhis chair, I found myself left to my own devices. I quitted the roomquietly, without disturbing my host, and strolled around on to the lawnsmoking a cigarette, and turning over in my mind the matters responsiblefor my presence at Low Fennel.

  With no definite object in view, I had wandered towards the orchard,when I became aware of a whispered conversation taking place somewherenear me, punctuated with little peals of laughter. I detected the words"Aubrey" and "Marjorie" (Mrs. Dale's name), and, impatiently tossing mycigarette away, I returned to the house, intent upon arousing the Majorand terminating this tete-a-tete. That it was more, on Mrs. Dale'spart, than a harmless flirtation, I did not believe; but young Wales wasnot a safe type of man for that sort of amusement.

  The Major, sunk deep in his favourite chair in the study, was snoringloudly, and as I stood contemplating him in the dusk, I changed my mind,and retracing my steps, joined the two in the orchard, proclaiming myarrival by humming a popular melody.

  "Has he fallen asleep?" asked Mrs. Dale, turning laughing eyes upon me.

  I studied the piquant face ere replying. Her tone and her expression hadreassured me, if further assurance were necessary, that my old friend'sheart was in safe keeping; but she was young and gay; it was a case fordiplomatic handling.

  "India leaves its mark on all men," I replied lightly; "but I have nodoubt that the Major is wide-awake enough now."

  My words were an invitation; to which, I was glad to note, she respondedreadily enough.

  "Let's come and dig him out of that cavern of his!" she said, andlinking her right arm in that of Wales, and her left with mine, sheturned us about toward the house.

  Dusk was now fallen, and lights shone out from several windows of LowFennel. Suddenly, an upper window became illuminated, and Mrs. Dalepointed to this.

  "That is my room," she said to me; "isn't it delightfully situated? Theview from the window is glorious."

  "I consider Low Fennel charming in every way," I replied.

  Clearly she knew nothing of the place's sinister reputation, whichseemed to indicate that she employed herself little with the domesticside of the household; otherwise she must undoubtedly have learnt of theepisode of the man with the contorted face, if not from the housekeeper,from the maid. It was a tribute to the reticence of the servants thatthe story had spread no further; but the broken study window and thesadly damaged Airedale already afforded matter for whispered debateamong them, as I had noted with displeasure.

  The "digging out" of the Major did not prove to be an entire success. Hewas in one of his peculiar moods, which I knew of old, and rather surly,being pointedly rude on more than one occasion to Wales. He had someaccounts to look into, or professed to have, and the three of uspresently left him alone. It was now about ten o'clock, and Aubrey Walesmade his departure, shaking me warmly by the hand and expressing thehope that we should see more of one another. He could not foresee thatthe wish was to be realised in a curious fashion.

  Mrs. Dale informed me that the Major in all probability would remainimmured in his study until a late hour, which I took to be an intimationthat she wished to retire. I therefore pleaded weariness as a resultof my journey, and went up to my room, although I had no intention ofturning-in. I opened the two windows widely, and the heavy perfumeof some kind of tobacco plant growing in the beds below grew almostoppressive. The heat of the night was truly phenomenal; I might havebeen, not in an English home county, but in the Soudan. An absolutestillness reigned throughout Low Fennel, and, my hearing beingpeculiarly acute, I could detect the chirping of the bats which flittedrestlessly past my windows.

  It was difficult to decide how to act. My experience of so-calledsupernatural appearances had strengthened my faith in the theoryset forth in the paper "Chemistry of Psychic Phenomena"--which hadattracted unexpected attention a year before. Therein I classifiedhauntings under several heads, basing my conclusions upon the fact thatsuch apparitions are invariably localised; often being confined, notmerely to a particular room, for instance, but to a certain wall, door,or window. I had been privileged to visit most of the famous hauntedhomes of Great Britain, and this paper was the result; but in the caseof Low Fennel I found myself nonplussed, largely owing to lack of data.I hoped on the morrow to make certain inquiries along lines suggested byoddities in the structure of the house itself and by the nature of thelittle valley in which it stood.

  When meditating I never sit still, and whilst marshalling my ideas Ipaced the room from end to end, smoking the whole time. Both windowsand also the door, were widely opened. The amazing heat-wave which wewere then experiencing promised to afford me a valuable clue, for I hadproved to my own satisfaction that the apparitions variously known as"controls" and "elementals," not infrequently coincided with abruptclimatic changes, thunder-storms, or heat waves, or with naturalphenomena, such as landslides and the like.

  This pacing led me from end to end of the room, then, between the opendoor and the large dressing-table facing it. It was as I returned fromthe door towards the dressing-table that I became aware of the presenceof the _contorted face_.

  My peculiar studies had brought me into contact with many horribleapparitions, and if familiarity had failed to breed contempt, at leastit had served to train my nerves for the reception of such sudden andghastly appearances. I should be avoiding the truth, however, if Iclaimed to have been unmoved by the vision which now met me in themirror. I drew up short, with one sibilant breath, and then stoodtransfixed.

  Before me was a reflection of the open door, and of part of the landingand stairs beyond it. The landing lights were extinguished, andtherefore the place beyond the door lay in comparative darkness. But,crawling in, serpent-fashion, inch by inch, silently, intently, so thatthe head, throat, and hands were actually across the threshold, came acreature which seemed to be entirely naked! It had the form of a man,but the face, the dreadful face which was being pushed forward slowlyacross the carpet with head held sideways so that one ear all buttouched the floor, was the face, not of a man, but of a ghoul!

  I clenched my teeth hard, staring into the mirror and trying to forcemyself to turn and confront, not the reflection, but the reality.Yet for many seconds I was unable to accomplish this. The baleful,protruding eyes glared straight into mine from the glass. The chin andlower lip of this awful face seemed to be drawn up so as almost tomeet the nose, entirely covering the upper lip, and the nostrils weredistended to an incredible degree, whilst the skin had a sort of purpletinge unlike anything I had seen before. The effect was grotesque in thetrue sense of the word; for the thing was clearly grimacing at me, yetGod knows there was nothing humorous in that grimace!

  Nearer it came and nearer. I could hear the heavy body being drawnacross the floor; I could hear the beating of my own heart ... and Icould hear a whispered conversation which seemed to be taking placesomewhere immediately outside my room.

  At the moment that I detected the latter sound, it seemed that theapparition detected it also. The pro
truding eyes twisted in the head,rolling around ridiculously but horribly. Despite the dread which heldme, I identified the whisperers and located their situation. Mrs. Dalewas at her open window and Aubrey Wales was in the garden below.

  The thought crossed my mind and was gone--but gone no quicker than thecontorted face. By a sort of backward, serpentine movement, the thingwhich had been crawling into my room suddenly retired and was swallowedup in the shadows of the landing.

  I turned and sprang toward the open door, the fever of research hotupon me, and my nerves in hand again. At the door I paused and listenedintently. No sound came to guide me from the darkened stair, and when,stepping quietly forward and leaning over the rail, I peered down intothe hall below, nothing stirred, no shadow of the many there moved totell of the passage of any living thing. I paused irresolute, unable todoubt that I was in the presence of an authentic apparition. But how toclassify it?

  Slowly I returned to my room, and stood there, thinking hard, and allthe while listening for the slightest sound from within or without thehouse.

  The whispered conversation continued, and I stole quietly to one of thewindows and leant out, looking to the left, in the direction of thenew wing. A light burnt in the Major's study, whereby I concluded thathe was still engaged with his accounts, if he had not fallen asleep.Between my window and the new wing, and on a level with my eyes, was thewindow of Mrs. Dale's room; and in the bright moonlight I could see herleaning out, her elbows on the ledge. Her bare arms gleamed like marblein the cold light, and she looked statuesquely beautiful. Wales I couldnot see, for a thick, square-clipped hedge obstructed my view ... but Isaw something else.

  Lizard fashion, a hideous unclad shape crawled past beneath me amongstthe tangle of ivy and low plants about the foot of the fir trees. Themoonlight touched it for a moment, and then it was gone into densershadows....

  A consciousness of impending disaster came to me, but, because of itsvery vagueness, found me unprepared. Then suddenly I saw young Wales. Hesprang into view above the hedge, against which, I presume, he had beencrouching; he leapt high in the air as though from some menace on theground beneath him. I have never heard a more horrifying scream thanthat which he uttered.

  "My God!" he cried, "Marjorie! Marjorie!" and yet again: "Marjorie!_save me!_"

  Then he was down, still screaming horribly, and calling on the womanfor aid--as though she could have aided him. The crawling thing madeno sound, but the dreadful screams of Wales sank slowly into a sortof sobbing, and then into a significant panting which told of his direextremity.

  I raced out of the room, and down the dark stair into the hall.Everywhere I was met by locked doors which baffled me. I had hoped toreach the garden by way of the kitchens, but now I changed my plan andturned my attention to the front-door. It was bolted, but I drew thebolts one after the other, and got the door open.

  Outside, the landscape was bathed in glorious moonlight, and a sort ofgrey mist hovered over the valley like smoke. I ran around the angleof the house on to the lawn, and went plunging through flower-bedsheedlessly to the scene of the incredible conflict.

  I almost fell over Wales as he lay inert upon the gravel path. Theshadows veiled him so that I could not see his face; but when, gropingwith my hands, I sought to learn if his heart still pulsed, I failedto discover any evidence that it did. With my hand thrust against hisbreast and my ear lowered anxiously, I listened, but he gave no sign oflife, lying as still as all else around me.

  Now this stillness was broken. Excited voices became audible, and doorswere being unlocked here and there. First of all the household, Mrs.Dale appeared, enveloped in a lace dressing-gown.

  "Aubrey!" she cried tremulously, "what is it? where are you?"

  "He is here, Mrs. Dale," I answered, standing up, "and in a bad way, Ifear."

  "For Heaven's sake, what has happened to him? Did you hear his awfulcries?"

  "I did," I said shortly.

  Standing with the moonlight fully upon her, Mrs. Dale sought him in theshadows of the hedge--and I knew that by the manner of his frightenedoutcry the man lying unconscious at my feet had forfeited whatever ofher regard he had enjoyed. She was dreadfully alarmed, not so muchon his behalf, as by the mystery of the attack upon him. But now shecomposed herself, though not without visible effort.

  "Where is he, Mr. Addison?" she said firmly, "and what has happened tohim?"

  A man, who proved to be a gardener, now appeared upon the scene.

  "Help me to carry him in," I said to this new arrival; "perhaps he hasonly fainted."

  We gathered up the recumbent body and carried it through the kitchensinto the breakfast-room, where there was a deep couch. All the servantswere gathered at the foot of the stairs, frightened and useless, but theoutcry did not seem to have aroused Major Dale.

  Mrs. Dale and I bent over Wales. His face was frightfully congested,whilst his tongue protruded hideously; and it was evident, from thegreat discoloured weals which now were coming up upon his throat, thathe had been strangled, or nearly so. I glanced at the white face of myhostess and then bent over the victim, examining him more carefully. Istood upright again.

  "Do you know first aid, Mrs. Dale?" I asked abruptly.

  She nodded, her eyes fixed intently upon me.

  "Then help to employ artificial respiration," I said, "and let oneof the girls get ammonia, if you have any, and a bowl of hot water.We can patch him up, I think, without medical aid--which might beundesirable."

  Mrs. Dale seemed fully to appreciate the point, and in business-likefashion set to work to assist me. Wales had just opened his eyes andbegun to clutch at his agonized throat, when I heard a heavy stepdescending from the new wing--and Major Dale, in his dressing-gown,joined us. His red face was more red than usual, and his eyes were roundwith wonder.

  "What the devil's the matter?" he cried; "what's everybody up for?"

  "There has been an accident, Major," I said, glancing around at theservants, who stood in a group by the door of the breakfast-room; "I canexplain more fully later."

  Major Dale stepped forward and looked down at Wales.

  "Good God!" he said hoarsely, "it's young Wales, by the LordHarry!--what's he doing here?"

  Mrs. Dale, standing just behind me, laid her hand upon my arm; and,unseen by the Major, I turned and pressed it reassuringly.

  IV

  The following day I lunched alone with the Major, Mrs. Dale being absenton a visit. It had been impossible to keep the truth from her (or whatwe knew of it) and at present I could not quite foresee the issue oflast night's affair. Young Wales, who had been driven home in a car sentfrom his place at a late hour, had not since put in an appearance; andit was sufficiently evident that Mrs. Dale would not welcome him shouldhe do so, the hysterical panic which he had exhibited on the previousnight having disgusted her. She had not said so in as many words, but Idid not doubt it.

  "Well, Addison?" said the Major as I entered, "have you got the factsyou were looking for?"

  "Some of them," I replied, and opening my notebook I turned to the pagescontaining notes made that morning.

  The Major watched me with intense curiosity, and almost impatientlyawaited my next words. The servant having left the room:

  "In the first place," I began, glancing at the notes, "I have beenconsulting certain local records in the town, and I find that in theyear 1646 a certain Dame Pryce occupied a cabin which, according to onerecord, 'stood close beside unto ye Lowe Fennel.'"

  "That is, close beside this house?" interjected the Major excitedly.

  "Exactly," I said. "She attracted the attention of one of the manyinfamous wretches who disfigure the history of that period: MatthewHopkins, the self-styled Witch-Finder General. This was a witch-riddenage, and the man Hopkins was one of those who fattened on the credulityof his fellows, receiving a fee of twenty shillings for every unhappywoman discovered and convicted of witchcraft. Poor Pryce was 'swum' in alocal pond (a test whereby the villain Hopkins professed to discove
r ifthe woman were one of Satan's band, or otherwise) and burnt alive inReigate market-place on September 23, 1646."

  "By God!" said the Major, who had not attempted to commence his lunch,"that's a horrible story!"

  "It is one of the many to the credit of Matthew Hopkins," I replied;"but, without boring you with the details of this woman's examinationand so forth, I may say that what interests me most in the case is thedate--September 23."

  "Why? I don't follow you."

  "Well," I said, "there's a hiatus in the history of the place afterthat, except that even in those early days it evidently suffered fromthe reputation of being haunted; but without troubling about theinterval, consider the case of Seager, which you yourself related tome. Was it not in the month of August that he was done to death here?"

  "By Gad!" cried the Major, his face growing redder than ever,"you're right!--and hang it all, Addison! it was in September--lastSeptember--that the Ords cleared out!"

  "I remember your mentioning," I continued, smiling at his excitement,"that it was a very hot month?"

  "It was."

  "From a mere word dropped by one of the witnesses at the trial of poorPryce I have gathered that the month in which she was convicted ofpractising witchcraft in her cabin adjoining Low Fennel (as it stood inthose days) was a tropically hot month also."

  Major Dale stared at me uncomprehendingly.

  "I'm out of my depth, Addison--wading hopelessly. What the devil has theheat to do with the haunting?"

  "To my mind everything. I may be wrong, but I think that if the glasswere to fall to-night, there would be no repetition of the trouble."

  "You mean that it's only in very hot weather--"

  "In phenomenally hot weather, Major--the sort that we only get inEngland perhaps once in every ten years. For the glass to reach thealtitude at which it stands at present, in two successive summers, isquite phenomenal, as you know."

  "It's phenomenal for it to reach that point at all," said the Major,mopping his perspiring forehead; "it's simply Indian, simply Indian,sir, by the Lord Harry!"

  "Another inquiry," I continued, turning over a leaf of my book, "I havebeen unable to complete, since, in order to interview the people whobuilt your new wing, I should have to run up to London."

  "What the blazes have they to do with it?"

  "Nothing at all, but I should have liked to learn their reasons forraising the wing three feet above the level of the hall-way."

  Between the heat and his growing excitement, Major Dale found himself ata temporary loss for words. Then:

  "They told me," he shouted at the top of his voice, "they told me at thetime that it was something about--that it was due to the plan--that itwas----"

  "I can imagine that they had some ready explanation," I said, "but itmay not have been the true one."

  "Then what the--what the--is the true one?"

  "The true one is that the new wing covers a former mound."

  "Quite right; it does."

  "If my theory is correct, it was upon this mound that the cabin of DamePryce formerly stood."

  "It's quite possible; they used to allow dirty hovels to be erectedalongside one's very walls in those days--quite possible."

  "Moreover, from what I've learnt from Ord--whom I interviewed at theHall--and from such accounts as are obtainable of the death of Seager,this mound, and not the interior of Low Fennel as it then stood, was thescene of the apparitions."

  "You've got me out of my depth again, Addison. What d'you mean?"

  "Seager was strangled outside the house, not inside."

  "I believe that's true," agreed the Major, still shouting at the top ofhis voice, but gradually growing hoarser; "I remember they found himlying on the step, or something."

  "Then again, the apparition with the contorted face which peered in atMrs. Ord----"

  "Lies, all lies!"

  "I don't agree with you, Major. She was trying to shield her husband,but I think she saw the contorted face right enough. At any rate it'sinteresting to note that the visitant came from outside the houseagain."

  "But," cried the Major, banging his fist upon the table, "it wandersabout inside the house, and--and--damn it all!--it goes outside aswell!"

  "Where it goes," I interrupted quietly, "is not the point. The point is,where it comes from."

  "Then where do you believe it comes from?"

  "I believe the trouble arises, in the strictest sense of the word, fromthe same spot whence it arose in the days of Matthew Hopkins, and fromwhich it had probably arisen ages before Low Fennel was built."

  "What the--"

  "I believe it to arise from the ancient barrow, or tumulus, above whichyou have had your new wing erected."

  Major Dale fell back in his chair, temporarily speechless, but breathingnoisily; then:

  "Tumulus!" he said hoarsely; "d'you mean to tell me the house is builton a dam' burial ground?"

  "Not the whole house," I corrected him; "only the new wing."

  "Then is the place haunted by the spirit of some uneasy Ancient Britonor something of that sort, Addison? Hang it all! you can't tell me afairy tale like that! A ghost going back to pre-Roman days is a bit tooancient for me, my boy--too hoary, by the Lord Harry!"

  "I have said nothing about an Ancient British ghost--you're flying offat a tangent!"

  "Hang it all, Addison! I don't know what you're talking about at all,but nevertheless your hints are sufficiently unpleasant. A tumulus! Noman likes to know he's sleeping in a graveyard, not even if it is two orthree thousand years old. D'you think the chap who surveyed the groundfor me knew of it?"

  "By the fact that he planned the new wing so as to avoid excavation,I think probably he did. He was wise enough to surmise that the ordermight be cancelled altogether and the job lost if you learnt the historyof the mound adjoining your walls."

  "A barrow under the study floor!" groaned the Major--"damn it all! I'llhave the place pulled down--I won't live in it. Gad! if Marjorie knew,she would never close her eyes under the roof of Low Fennel again--I'msure she wouldn't, I know she wouldn't. But what's more, Addison, thething, whatever it is, is dangerous--infernally dangerous. It nearlykilled young Wales!" he added, with a complacency which was significant.

  "It was the fright that nearly killed him," I said shortly.

  Major Dale stared across the table at me.

  "For God's sake, Addison," he said, "what does it mean? What unholything haunts Low Fennel? You've studied these beastly subjects, and Irely upon you to make the place clean and good to live in again."

  "Major," I replied, "I doubt if Low Fennel will ever be fit to livein. At any time an abnormal rise of temperature might produce the mostdreadful results."

  "You don't mean to tell me----"

  "If you care to have the new wing pulled down and the wall bricked upagain, if you care to keep all your doors and windows fastened securelywhenever the thermometer begins to exhibit signs of rising, if you avoidgoing out on hot nights after dusk, as you would avoid the plague--yes,it may be possible to live in Low Fennel."

  Again the Major became speechless, but finally:

  "What d'you mean, Addison?" he whispered; "for God's sake, tell me. Whatis it?--what is it?"

  "It is what some students have labelled an 'elemental' and some a'control,'" I replied; "it is something older than the house, older,perhaps, than the very hills, something which may never be classified,something as old as the root of all evil, and it dwells in the AncientBritish tumulus."

  V

  As I had hoped, for my plans were dependent upon it, the mercury toweredsteadily throughout that day, and showed no signs of falling at night;the phenomenal heat-wave continued uninterruptedly. The household waslate retiring, for the grey lord--Fear--had imposed his will upon allwithin it. Every shadow in the rambling old building became a cavern ofhorrors, every sound that disturbed the ancient timbers a portent and awarning.

  That the servants proposed to leave _en masse_ at the earliest possibl
emoment was perfectly evident to me; in a word, all the dark old storieswhich had grown up around Low Fennel were revived and garnished, and newones added to them. The horror of the night before had left its markupon every one, and the coming of dusk brought with it such a dreadas could almost be felt in the very atmosphere of the place. Ghostlyfigures seemed to stir the hangings, ghostly sighs to sound from everynook of the old hall and stairway; baleful eyes looked in at the openwindows, and the shrubberies were peopled with hosts of nameless thingswho whispered together in evil counsel.

  Mrs. Dale was as loath to retire as were the servants, more especiallysince the Major and I were unable to disguise from her our intention ofwatching for the strange visitant that night. But finally we prevailedupon her to depart, and she ran upstairs as though the legions of thelost pursued her, slamming and locking her door so that the sound echoedall over the house.

  We had told her nothing, of course, of my discoveries and theories, butnevertheless the cat was out of the bag; the affair of the night beforehad spoilt our scheme of secrecy.

  In the Major's study we made our preparations. The windows were widelyopened, and the door was ajar. Not a breath of wind disturbed thestillness of the night, and although Major Dale had agreed to actexactly as I might direct, he stared in almost comic surprise when helearnt the nature of these directions.

  Placing two large silk handkerchiefs upon the table, I saturated themwith the contents of a bottle which I had brought in my pocket, andhanded one of the handkerchiefs to him.

  "Tie that over your mouth and nostrils," I said, "and whatever happensdon't remove it unless I tell you."

  "But, Addison...."

  "You know the compact, Major? If you aren't prepared to assist I mustask you to retire. To-night might be the last chance, perhaps, foryears."

  Growling beneath his breath, Major Dale obeyed, and, a humorous figureenough, stretched himself upon the couch, staring at me round-eyed. Ialso fastened a handkerchief about my head.

  "It would perhaps be better," I said, my voice dimmed by the wet silk,"if we avoided conversation as much as possible."

  Standing up, I rolled back a corner of the carpet, exposing thefloor-planks, and with a brace-and-bit, which I had in my pocket, Ibored a round hole in one of these. Into it I screwed the tube, attachedto a little watch-like contrivance, twisting the face of the dial sothat I could study it from where I proposed to sit. Then I took up mypost, smothering a laugh as I noted the expression upon that part of theMajor's red face which was visible to me.

  Thus began the business of that strange night. Half an hour passed inalmost complete silence, save for the audible breathing of the Major--byno means an ideal companion for such an investigation. But, havingagreed to assist me, in justice to my old friend I must say that he didhis best to stick to the bargain, and to play his part in what obviouslyhe regarded as an insane comedy.

  At about the expiration of this thirty minutes, I thought I heard a dooropen somewhere in the house. Listening intently, and glancing at mycompanion, I received no confirmation of the idea. Evidently the Majorhad heard nothing. Again I thought I heard a sound--as of the rustlingof silk upon the stair, or in an upper corridor; finally I was almostcertain that the floor of the room above (viz. the Major's bedroom)creaked very slightly.

  At that I saw my companion glance upward, then across at me, with aquestion in his eyes. But not desiring to disturb the silence, I merelyshook my head.

  An hour passed. There had been no repetition of the slight sounds towhich I have referred, and the stillness of Low Fennel was reallyextraordinary. A thermometer, which I had placed upon the table near tomy elbow, recorded the fact that the temperature of the room had notabated a fraction of a point since sunset, and, sitting still though Iwas, I found myself bathed in perspiration. Despite the open door andwindows, not a breath of air stirred in the place, but the room wasladen with the oppressive perfume of those night-scented flowers whichI have mentioned elsewhere, for it was faintly perceptible to me,despite the wet silk.

  Once, a bat flew half in at one of the windows, striking its wingsupon the glass, but almost immediately it flew out again. A big mothfluttered around the room, persistently banging its wings against thelamp-shade. But nothing else within or without the house stirred, if Iexcept the occasional restless movements of the Major.

  Then all at once--and not gradually as I had anticipated--the meter atmy feet began to register. Instantly, I looked to the thermometer. Ithad begun to fall.

  I glanced across at Major Dale. He was staring at something which seemedto have attracted his attention in a distant corner of the room.Glancing away from the meter, the indicator of which was still movingupward, I looked in the same direction. There was much shadow there, butnevertheless I could not doubt that a very faint vapour was forming inthat corner ... rising--rising--rising--slowly higher and higher.

  It proceeded from some part of the floor concealed by the big saddle-bagchair--the Major's favourite dozing-place (probably from a faultyfloor-board), and it was rising visibly, inch upon inch, as I watched,until it touched the ceiling above. Then, like a column of smoke, itspread out, mushroom fashion; it crept in ghostly coils along thecornices, spreading, a dim grey haze, until it obscured a great part ofthe ceiling.

  Again I looked across at the Major. He was staring at the phenomenonwith eyes which were glassy with amazement. I could see that momentarilyhe expected the vapour to take shape, to form into some ghoulish thingwith a contorted face and clutching, outstretched fingers.

  But this did not happen. The vapour, which was growing more fine andimperceptible, began to disperse. I glanced from corner to corner of theroom, then down to the meter on the floor. The indicator was fallingagain.

  Still I made no move, although I could hear Major Dale fidgetingnervously, but I looked across at him ... and a dreadful change had comeover his face.

  He was sitting upright upon the couch, the edge of which he clutchedwith one hand, whilst with the other he combed the air in a gestureevidently meant to attract my attention. He was trying to speak, butonly a guttural sound issued from his throat. His staring eyes were setin a glare of stark horror upon the door of the study.

  Swiftly I turned--to see the door slowly opening; to see, low down uponthe bare floor--for I had removed the carpet from that corner of theroom--a ghastly, contorted face, held sideways with one ear almosttouching the ground, and with the lower lip and the chin drawn up asthough they were of rubber, almost to the tip of the nose!

  The eyes glared up balefully into mine, the hair hung a dishevelled massabout the face, and I had a glimpse of one bare shoulder pressed uponthe floor.

  Wider and wider opened the door; and further into the room crept thehorrible apparition....

  The light gleamed equally upon the hideous, contorted face and upon therounded shoulders and slim, white arms, on one of which a heavy goldOriental bangle was clasped.

  It was a woman!

  In a flash of inspiration--at sight of the bangle--my doubts wereresolved; _I understood_. Leaning across the table, I extinguished thelamp ... in the same instant that Major Dale, uttering an inarticulate,choking cry, sprang to his feet and toppled forward, senseless, upon thefloor!

  The study became plunged in darkness, but into the long corridor, beyondthe open door, poured the cold illumination of the moon. Framed in theportal, uprose a slim figure, seeming like a black silhouette upon asilvern background, or a wondrous statue in ebony. Elfin, dishevelledlocks crowned the head; the pose of the form was as that of a startleddryad or a young Bacchante poised for a joyous leap....

  Thus, for an instant, like some exquisite dream of Phidias visualised,the figure stood ... then had fled away down the corridor and was gone!

  VI

  Close upon a month had elapsed. Major Dale and I sat in my study inLondon.

  "Young Aubrey Wales has gone abroad," I said. "He's ashamed to show upagain, I suppose."

  "H'm!" growled the Major--"I've got nothing to
crow about, myself,by the Lord Harry! There's courage and courage, sir! I've led morethan one bayonet attack, but I'd never qualify for the D.S.O. as aghost-hunter!--never, by Gad!--never!"

  He reached out for the decanter; then withdrew his hand. "Doctor'sorders," he muttered. "Discipline must be maintained!"

  "It was the sudden excitement which precipitated the seizure," I said,glancing at the altered face of my old friend. "I was wrong to exposeyou to it; but of course I did not know that the doctor had warned you."

  "And now," said the Major, sighing loudly as he filled his tumbler withplain soda-water--"what have you to tell me?"

  "In the first place--have you definitely decided to leave Low Fennel,for good?"

  "Certainly--not a doubt on the point! We're leasing a flat in town herewhilst we look around."

  "Good! Because I very much doubt if the place could ever be renderedtenable...."

  "Then it's really haunted?"

  "Undoubtedly."

  "By what, Addison? Tell me that!--by what?"

  "By a grey vapour."

  Major Dale's eyes began to protrude, and:--

  "Addison," he said hoarsely--"don't joke about it!--don't joke. It wasnot a grey vapour that strangled Seager...."

  "Certainly it was not. Seager was strangled by some wholly inoffensiveperson--we shall probably never know his identity--who had fallen asleepamongst the bushes on the mound, close beside the house...."

  "But man alive! I've _seen_ the beastly thing, with my own eyes! You'veseen it! Wales saw it! Mrs. Ord saw it!..."

  "Mrs. Ord saw her husband."

  "Ah! you're coming round to my belief about the Ords!"

  "Decidedly I am."

  "But what did Wales see--eh? And what did _I_ see!"

  "You saw the vapour in operation."

  The Major fell back in his chair with an expression upon his face whichI cannot hope to describe. Words failed him altogether.

  "I had come prepared for something of the sort," I continued rapidly;"for I have investigated several cases of haunting--notably in the Peakdistrict--which have proved to be due to an emanation from the soil--avapour. But the effect of such vapour, in the other cases, was toinduce delusions of sight, in nearly every instance (although, in two,the delusions were of hearing).

  "In other words, the person affected by this vapour was drugged, and,during the drugged state, perceived certain visions. I made the mistake,at first, of supposing that Low Fennel came within the same category.The classical analogy, of course, is that of the Sibyls, who deliveredthe oracular responses from the tripod, under the afflatus of a vapoursaid to arise from the sacred subterranean stream called Kassotis. Thetheory is, therefore, by no means a new one!"

  Major Dale stared dully, but made no attempt to interrupt me.

  "There are probably many spots, in England alone," I continued,"thus affected; but, fortunately, few of them have been chosen asbuilding-sites. Barrows and tumuli of the stone and bronze age, andalso Roman shrines, seem frequently to be productive of such emanations.The barrow beside Low Fennel (and now under the new wing) is a case inpoint.

  "Sudden atmospheric changes seem to be favourable to the formationof the vapour. The barrow in Peel Castle, Isle of Man, is peculiarlysusceptible to thunder-storms, for instance, whilst that at Low Fennelemits a vapour only after a spell of intense heat, and at the exactmoment when the temperature begins to fall again. In the case of asustained heat-wave, this would take place at some time during eachnight.

  "And now for the particular in which the vapour at Low Fennel differsfrom other, similar emanations. It is not productive of delusions ofsight; it induces a definite and unvarying form of transient insanity!"

  Major Dale moved slightly, but still did not speak.

  "Dame Pryce was the first recorded victim of the vapour. She was accusedof witchcraft by a neighbour who testified to having seen her transformherself into a hideous and unrecognizable hag--whereas, in her properperson, she seems to have been a comely old lady. Lack of evidencecompels us to dismiss the case of Seager, but consider that of the Ords.The man Ord, on his own confession, had fallen asleep outside the house.He became a victim of the vapour--and his own wife failed to recognizehim.

  "To what extent the mania so produced is homicidal remains to be proved;the gas is rare and difficult to procure, so that hitherto analysis hasnot been attempted. My own theory is that the subject remains harmlessprovided that, whilst under the mysterious influence, he does notencounter any person distasteful to him. Thus, Seager may have met hisdeath at the hands of some tramp who had been turned away from thehouse.

  "As to the symptoms: they seem to be quite unvarying. The subjectstrips, contorts his face out of all semblance to humanity (and alwaysin a particular fashion) and crawls, lizard-like upon the ground, withthe head held low, in an attitude of listening. That it is possible soto contort the face as to render it unrecognizable is seen in some casesof angina pectoris, of course.

  "The subject apparently returns to the spot from whence he started andsinks into profound sleep, as is seen in some cases of somnambulism;and--like the somnambulist, again--he acquires incredible agility. Howyou yourself came, twice, under the influence of the vapour, is easilyexplained. The first time--when the housekeeper saw you--you hadactually been in bed; and the second time, as you have told me, you hadgone upstairs, undressed, and then slipped on your dressing-gown inorder to complete some work in the study. Instead of completing thework, you dozed in your chair--and we know what followed! In the caseof--Mrs. Dale...."

  "God! Addison," said the Major huskily, and stood up, clutching thechair-arms--"Addison! You are trying to tell me that--what I saw was ..._Marjorie_!..."

  I nodded gravely.

  "Without letting her suspect my reason for making the inquiries, Ilearnt that on that last night at Low Fennel, feeling dreadfully lonelyand frightened, she determined to run along to the new wing--whichseemed a safer place--and to wait in your room until you came up. Shefell asleep, and...."

  "Addison ... can a mere 'vapour' produce such...."

  "You mean, is the vapour directed or animated, by some discarnate, evilintelligence? My dear Major, you are taking us back to the theory ofElemental spirits, and I blankly refuse to follow you!"