Within That Room! by John Russell Fearn

notches in the screw heads. It was a hard task, which made him red in the face and short of breath but at least every screw was removed.
    â€œSo far, so good,” he murmured. “Now for the rest of it.”
    Then, picking up the chisel, he wedged it between the door and the frame. As he pushed hard, Vera helped him by dragging forth the wadding from round the door edges. Then suddenly, as Dick gave a shove, the lock snapped and the door swung slowly inward on squeaking, rusty hinges.
    Tense, motionless, they stood on the threshold and looked in. The room was completely empty. Dust lay thick and untrodden on the floor and hazed the musty atmosphere. A large stained-glass window, upon which was silhouetted the dark shadow of the “watchtower” parapet outside, formed the one means of illumination. There was an aged fireplace, the back of which had fallen out to reveal the darkness of the flue behind it.
    â€œDeadly, eh?” Vera asked at last, with a little sigh of relief. “It just goes to show you what a lot of village gossip can do. Why, if it were cleaned up, this would make a nice bedroom.”
    She went inside slowly, her hands on her hips, her feet making no noise in the thick dust on the carpet. It stirred up around her and into the air as she moved. Dick put down the chisel and followed her in.
    â€œThe fireplace wants fixing,” she said, as they surveyed it from the centre of the room. “I suppose we could get somebody to attend to—”
    Suddenly Vera stopped and clutched at her throat. Dick had no need to ask why she had ceased speaking, for he had noticed it at the same moment—a curious sensation, a feeling of ghastly sinking, a terrific shifting and turning of the stomach.
    â€œI—I feel as though—I’m going to be sick....” Vera got the words out in jerks, in whispers, her face deathly pale.
    Dick nodded but said nothing. The lines in his face had set in a mask of strain. Both he and the girl stood still, not quite knowing what to do—but with every second, with every breath they took, they could feel inexplicable sensations creeping in upon them.
    A horrible feeling crept into Dick’s senses. The uncertain sunlight of the room seemed to change to a weird scrambling of shadows as intolerable pressures crushed behind his eyes.
    Vera staggered. Then suddenly her knees gave way and she fell flat on the floor, face downward. Her fingers clutched vainly in the dust as she struggled to rise. Staring at her, Dick saw nameless anguish in her eyes as she looked up at him beseechingly.
    With every second normalcy was deserting Dick. His brain was throbbing with horrible things that had no place in his normal make-up.
    With an effort that drenched him in perspiration, he became himself for an agonising moment—but the room seemed to be filled with a myriad loathsome shapes. He bent down, caught Vera beneath her arms and dragged her out into the corridor. He slammed the door, drove home one of the screws with hands that felt numb and brittle.
    Shaken, gasping for breath, tortured with a raging headache, he slumped down beside the half-conscious girl and fought to get himself under control. Gradually he began to succeed. Those unspeakable urgings began to wane as he breathed in the comparatively fresh air of the corridor. By his side Vera stirred, then at length she sat up with his supporting arm behind her shoulders.
    â€œWhat happened?” she muttered, pressing a hand to her eyes.
    â€œI—I just don’t know,” Dick confessed, shaken. “I managed to get a grip on myself for a moment or two, so I dragged you out here.”
    â€œYou are both extremely lucky to still be in possession of your lives and senses!”
    Both of them looked up sharply. They had not heard Mrs. Falworth’s silent approach. She was standing near to them, her face inscrutable.
    Dick hesitated over a remark, but instead he got to his feet and helped