The Sinister House

Press, Volume LXXI, Issue 21416, 7 March 1935, Page 7 (Supplement)

The Sinister House

The Marshall brothers had been cycling all day across the plains. Great clouds with edgings of black lay piled above the mountains from which they had come to this last stage oi' their journey, but there was still no rain. The plains lay hot and brown about them, and the dust was thick on the roads. Towards evening the boys were still 20 miles from the city. "Looks as if we'll be late in getling home," said Jcfr, the elder of the two, as they sat by the roadside and ate the last of their sandwiches. "That doesn't worry me," replied Ron, his brother. "But I hope we're not going to have a wetting." He was looking at the clouded skies. The day was prematurely dark, and the heat had become tinged with an orjiinous sense of approaching storm. Thunder was rolling among the passes of the hills, and large drops of rain began to sprinkle the dust of the road and patter on the leafage of trees. Jeff looked around him. "We'll have to find shelter. This is going to be heavy while it lasts." They were in a quiet by-road. Empty fields stretched ou either side, and the roofs of one or two farmhouses seemed a long way olf. They jumped 011 their cycles and made quick time to the end of the road, where a clump of trees suggested a dwelling of some kind. It was now almost dark, but a flash of lightning showed them their surroundings. In an angle formed by crossroads was a wide lane, grass-grown, which ran back about a hundred yards to the shadowy front of a large building. Pine trees stood on either side of the entry, and they could see that the house was of oldfashioned design, with triple gables and a blockish addition at one end. No lights could be seen. "Come on," said Jeff, pushing forward, "we can shelter on the veranda." The skies seemed to open as they hurried up the lane. Thunder came rumbling overhead, a forked flash of lightning darted menacingly among the trees, and the rain poured down. The boys reached the veranda and dragged their bicycles under shelter*. Even here, however, they were not out of reach of the rain. Jeff tried the front door, and announced that it was open. "It's an empty house," he said, exploring the passage with the narrow beam of the electric torch which had been a part of his camp equipment. "Come inside." But Eon held back. "I'm not keen about this place. It's very old, and there's a musty smell out of the passage. Why not stay here?" "We'll get wet if we do." Ron allowed himself to be persuaded, and the two boys walked up the passage, their steps echoing with a hollow sound. Jeff switched off the torch, and stood still. "What's the matter?" whispered Eon, bumping into him. "Nothing. I just thought—" He stopped, and seemed to be listening. "There it is again. Can't you hear?" There was a faint shuffling sound above their heads. "Somebody's walking about upstairs," muttered Eon. They waited a little longer, listening, but the rain was drumming

(By Monte Holer oft)

on the roof and all other sounds had grown indistinct. Jeff was the less imaginative of the two, but he began to think it might be better to return to the veranda. Before he could make up his mind, however, the front door opened behind them, and as they swung round they could see a shadow on the threshold. Ron cried out, and the door was suddenly slammed shut. In the new and deeper silence they could hear someone breathing heavily. At last there was a voice. "Who's that?" Jeff flashed, on the torch, and they saw a heavily-built man in a rain-coat. He instinctively put up his hand to shield his face from the beam. "It's all right," said JefT. "We're only sheltering until the rain stops." "Why couldn't you say so at first?" grumbled the man, coming forward. "You gave me a fright, and this isn't the house to be ner-

vous in. Things have a way of happening here. I wouldn't have come near it myself if the rain hadn't been so bad." They followed the newcomer into a large room, empty of all furniture but a table, and smelling of dust and damp. "Turn your torch around the room," said the man, shaking the drops from his rain-coat. A kerosene lamp was standing on the table. The glass bowl was thickly coated with dust, but there was kerosene in it. A match was applied to the wick, and a smoky and wavering light stole across the bare floor and along walls that were stained with damp. There was still a good deal of shadow on the stranger's face, but they could see a crooked nose and the gleam of eyes set rather closely together. He kept his hat on. Ron had been alarmed by the unfavourable description of the house. "What's the matter with the place?" he asked, keeping close to his brother. "Almost everything, sonny. This used to be the old Oatsheaf Hotel, and its history isn't good. The last tenant was murdered.

Eori shivered. "Where did it happen?'' asked Jeff, looking about him uneasily. The stranger pointed to the ceiling. "Up there, in a narrow room above the passage. They say you can hear his ghost shuffling about on a windy night. A wise man would sooner face a thunderstorm than the old Oatsheaf on a night like this." Jeff wanted to ask him why he had come here himself, but before he could find sufficient courage Ron gripped his arm. "Listen!" he whispered. All three stood silent. Jeff expected to hear the shuffling sound upstairs, but there was nothing except the patter of raindrops against the window-pane, the complaining of the pines as they bent before the wind, and finally a faint throbbing noise from the distant roadway. The man in the rain-coat looked relieved. "It's only a car," he said, "going past from town." Ron thought it had stopped, but would not venture his opinion again. Nevertheless, he continued

to listen -while the stranger gave Jeff a few more details of the oldtime murder; and he was not as surprised as the others when steps sounded suddenly on the veranda. The front door opened, and the steps came down the passage. A moment later two tall men came into the room. "Hello " said one. "What's going on here?" The man in the rain-coat seemed to be taken by surprise, but he hastened to explain. "It's the rain," he said. "I was walking to a farm up the road and was caught by the storm. I found these youngsters here." The newcomers looked at the boys. "Is that true?" asked the spokesman. Jeff said that it was, and the tall men looked disappointed. "You're quite sure there's no one else in the house?" "Quite sure," said the man in the rain-coat. He laughed in a half-hearted way. "You surely wouldn't expect to find anyone else in the old Oatsheaf, would you?" "You never can tell. We've had reports of a light seen here once

or twice lately, and we've traced a criminal to this district. Lame Ned, they call him. But we must be on the wrong track to-night. These faces are not known to the police, eh, Jim?" "They're new to me," said Jim, looking them over with a professional eye. "Although," he added, staring at the man in the rain-coat, "there's likely material among them." Jeff realised that these men were detectives. And he was thinking hard. The man in the rain-coat had made a show of discovering the lamp, but there was something in his manner which made Jeff suspect him of knowing it to be there. And although the lamp was old, it was full of kerosene. "Anyway," one of the detectives was saying, "the rain's stopping now, so you can get on your way. "And I shan't be sorry," put in Ron, taking courage in the pre* sence of the law. "There's a ghost in this house. We heard it." The detectives laughed as they turned back to the door. "There's always a ghost in these old houses," said Jim. "This one shuffled," said Jeff suddenly. "As if it were lame. "What's that!" exclaimed one of the detectives, turning back quickly. "As if it were lame?' Jeff nodded, looking at nun meaningly. "It was upstairs, he added, m a room over the passage." The detectives glanced at eacn other. "Better wait outside, Jim, sal" one. "Under that middle gable. I'll take the stairs." They vanished from the threshold, gliding into the shadows with a catlike tread. Almost as soon as they were gone the man in the rain " coat put his fingers to his lips ana sounded a piercing whistle. At tne same moment he made a movement towards the door. . . Jeff had been watching him. suspicions had been active, and ne knew now that this was an accomplice of the criminal who naa been in hiding upstairs. The story of a ghost had been meant to lrignten them from the house. Ron was standing near the dooi, and was pushed aside so violently that he fell headlong. This maddened Jeff, and without fuittier hesitation he dived for the man legs. The flying tackle was aic cessful, and man and boy crashed the floor. By the time the could recover his breath Jeff sitting 011 his chest and Ron clinging to his legs. There pro™ ised to be a furious tec _ it ended abruptly when the detec tives came into the room once • bringing with them an man who limped badlj*. Detec Jim took a hand, and a. ; cco , prisoner was soon standi » lenlv with handcuffs on his v.n "The swag was upstairs, ex plained the other dcteetiye. t " r id patently they were going to S e _ of it to-night. We iound some jewellery we've been looking You boys have been use:ful. Jeff and Ron thought so too, it was not until the P ris °" er ctive s' been taken away m th e d^ ct L u t car that they felt like talkingaM ( it. They wheeled thel , l to the road. The r a in ad . e and the air was cool, but the s was full of shadow. wo uld "You know," said Jeft, it w be funny if there were a ghost that house after all. . nlder at Ron looked over hi, the house, which nw. s to <* and secretive anions, the hc "I'm not going back to see, said, with a shudder.