Within That Room! by John Russell Fearn Page B

that there is an awful aura of evil in that locked room. You can’t deny it.”
    â€œNo; I agree that it was terrible while it lasted—but I still am not converted to ghosts. Anyway, maybe we’d better talk it over in the morning when we’ve had a night’s rest. We might as well turn in early. How do you feel?”
    â€œI’m fine now,” Vera said, getting up. “But I don’t feel like going to sleep. My nerves are too worked up. I think I’ll go down to the library and see if there are any soothing books to read.”
    â€œI’ll go with you,” Dick decided. “I could do with a book myself, and besides, I don’t feel any too happy at letting you out of my sight. Come on.”
    Feeling almost recovered, and if anything more determined than ever to solve the mystery after their first horrifying failure, they crept out into the corridor. It was empty. Presumably the Falworths had returned to the kitchen regions again. Then Vera straightened up suddenly.
    â€œJust why are we slinking about like a couple of fugitives?” she demanded. “I own the place! And somebody around here is going to know it before I’m finished!”
    â€œAtta girl!” Dick whispered, catching her arm. “Down we go.”
    They descended the staircase slowly and with dignity, but they saw no signs of the Falworths.
    â€œDo you suppose,” Vera murmured, when they had reached the hall, “that they think we have gone to bed and so have seized the chance to go down in the basement?”
    â€œMaybe, but I hardly think they would risk it with the daylight still lingering. From what you have told me their activities sound like dead-of-night antics.”
    Nevertheless they glanced towards the basement door inset in the staircase. It was tightly closed. Then Mrs. Falworth emerged from the passage leading to the servant’s quarters. She seemed to give the faintest of starts as she saw the two at the foot of the stairs.
    â€œI was under the impression that you had retired,” she murmured. “I was about to lock up for the night. Will it be in order for me to do so?”
    â€œQuite,” Vera assented briefly.
    The woman inclined her head and was about to sweep towards the front door when Vera stopped her.
    â€œJust a moment, Mrs. Falworth. I’ve decided on another tour of the house. My fiancé has not seen over it yet.”
    â€œYou wish to make the tour now, miss?”
    â€œWhy not? It isn’t late. We’ll start with the basement.”
    Mrs. Falworth drew herself up. She came right to the edge of words and then checked herself. Instead she motioned towards the basement door in the side of the staircase.
    â€œI will procure a torch, miss,” she said, and stalked away toward her own quarters. Vera watched her go and then clutched Dick’s arm.
    â€œI’m going to make her open that mystery cellar,” Vera whispered. “That’s where you will come into the picture. Insist on seeing inside it. Say it might do for darkroom photography, or something. You know.”
    â€œAll right; but watch your step. I think the dragon’s dangerous!”
    They waited a moment or two, then the housekeeper came back with the torch. It was spluttering. She unlocked the basement door and led the way down into the depths. In complete silence she held the torch over her head and Dick began to prowl round interestedly.
    â€œThere’s a funny smell down here,” he said at length, sniffing. “Sort of stuffy—close, as though the place wants ventilating.”
    â€œBut it seems warmer than yesterday evening when I came down,” Vera remarked. “Wonder why?”
    â€œI can only suggest, miss, that you were fatigued and chilled last night after your traveling,” the housekeeper said. “I assure you that the temperature is very little different.”
    â€œShe’s lying,” Vera