by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXV. THE BELLS
I started to my feet as a tall, bearded man swung open the door andhurled himself impetuously into the room. He wore a silk hat, whichfitted him very ill, and a black frock coat which did not fit him atall.
"It's all right, Petrie!" cried the apparition; "I've leased theGables!"
It was Nayland Smith! I stared at him in amazement
"The first time I have employed a disguise," continued my friendrapidly, "since the memorable episode of the false pigtail." He threwa small brown leather grip upon the floor. "In case you should careto visit the house, Petrie, I have brought these things. My tenancycommences to-night!"
Two days had elapsed, and I had entirely forgotten the strange story ofthe Gables which Inspector Weymouth had related to us; evidently it wasotherwise with my friend, and utterly at a loss for an explanation ofhis singular behavior, I stooped mechanically and opened the grip.It contained an odd assortment of garments, and amongst other thingsseveral gray wigs and a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles.
Kneeling there with this strange litter about me, I looked up amazedly.Nayland Smith, with the unsuitable silk hat set right upon the back ofhis head, was pacing the room excitedly, his fuming pipe protruding fromthe tangle of factitious beard.
"You see, Petrie," he began again, rapidly, "I did not entirely trustthe agent. I've leased the house in the name of Professor Maxton..."
"But, Smith," I cried, "what possible reason can there be for disguise?"
"There's every reason," he snapped.
"Why should you interest yourself in the Gables?"
"Does no explanation occur to you?"
"None whatever; to me the whole thing smacks of stark lunacy."
"Then you won't come?"
"I've never stuck at anything, Smith," I replied, "however undignified,when it has seemed that my presence could be of the slightest use."
As I rose to my feet, Smith stepped in front of me, and the steely grayeyes shone out strangely from the altered face. He clapped his handsupon my shoulders.
"If I assure you that your presence is necessary to my safety," hesaid--"that if you fail me I must seek another companion--will youcome?"
Intuitively, I knew that he was keeping something back, and I wasconscious of some resentment, but nevertheless my reply was a foregoneconclusion, and--with the borrowed appearance of an extremely untidyold man--I crept guiltily out of my house that evening and into the cabwhich Smith had waiting.
The Gables was a roomy and rambling place lying back a considerabledistance from the road. A semicircular drive gave access to the door,and so densely wooded was the ground, that for the most part the drivewas practically a tunnel--a verdant tunnel. A high brick wall concealedthe building from the point of view of any one on the roadway, buteither horn of the crescent drive terminated at a heavy, wrought-irongateway.
Smith discharged the cab at the corner of the narrow and winding roadupon which the Gables fronted. It was walled in on both sides; onthe left the wall being broken by tradesmen's entrances to thehouses fronting upon another street, and on the right following,uninterruptedly, the grounds of the Gables. As we came to the gate:
"Nothing now," said Smith, pointing into the darkness of the road beforeus, "except a couple of studios, until one comes to the Heath."
He inserted the key in the lock of the gate and swung it creakinglyopen. I looked into the black arch of the avenue, thought of the hauntedresidence that lay hidden somewhere beyond, of those who had died init--especially of the one who had died there under the trees--and foundmyself out of love with the business of the night.
"Come on!" said Nayland Smith briskly, holding the gate open; "thereshould be a fire in the library and refreshments, if the charwoman hasfollowed instructions."
I heard the great gate clang to behind us. Even had there been any moon(and there was none) I doubted if more than a patch or two of lightcould have penetrated there. The darkness was extraordinary. Nothingbroke it, and I think Smith must have found his way by the aid of somesixth sense. At any rate, I saw nothing of the house until I stood somefive paces from the steps leading up to the porch. A light was burningin the hallway, but dimly and inhospitably; of the facade of thebuilding I could perceive little.
When we entered the hall and the door was closed behind us, I beganwondering anew what purpose my friend hoped to serve by a vigil in thishaunted place. There was a light in the library, the door of which wasajar, and on the large table were decanters, a siphon, and some biscuitsand sandwiches. A large grip stood upon the floor, also. For some reasonwhich was a mystery to me, Smith had decided that we must assume falsenames whilst under the roof of the Gables; and:
"Now, Pearce," he said, "a whisky-and-soda before we look around?"
The proposal was welcome enough, for I felt strangely dispirited, and,to tell the truth, in my strange disguise, not a little ridiculous.
All my nerves, no doubt, were highly strung, and my sense of hearingunusually acute, for I went in momentary expectation of some uncannyhappening. I had not long to wait. As I raised the glass to my lips andglanced across the table at my friend, I heard the first faint soundheralding the coming of the bells.
It did not seem to proceed from anywhere within the library, but fromsome distant room, far away overhead. A musical sound it was, butbreaking in upon the silence of that ill-omened house, its music was themusic of terror. In a faint and very sweet cascade it rippled; a ringingas of tiny silver bells.
I set down my glass upon the table, and rising slowly from the chair inwhich I had been seated, stared fixedly at my companion, who was staringwith equal fixity at me. I could see that I had not been deluded;Nayland Smith had heard the ringing, too.
"The ghosts waste no time!" he said softly. "This is not new to me; Ispent an hour here last night and heard the same sound..."
I glanced hastily around the room. It was furnished as a library, andcontained a considerable collection of works, principally novels. I wasunable to judge of the outlook, for the two lofty windows were drapedwith heavy purple curtains which were drawn close. A silk shaded lampswung from the center of the ceiling, and immediately over the table bywhich I stood. There was much shadow about the room; and now I glancedapprehensively about me, but especially toward the open door.
In that breathless suspense of listening we stood awhile; then:
"There it is again!" whispered Smith, tensely.
The ringing of bells was repeated, and seemingly much nearer to us; infact it appeared to come from somewhere above, up near the ceiling ofthe room in which we stood. Simultaneously, we looked up, then Smithlaughed, shortly.
"Instinctive, I suppose," he snapped; "but what do we expect to see inthe air?"
The musical sound now grew in volume; the first tiny peal seemed to bereinforced by others and by others again, until the air around about uswas filled with the pealings of these invisible bell-ringers.
Although, as I have said, the sound was rather musical than horrible, itwas, on the other hand, so utterly unaccountable as to touch thesupreme heights of the uncanny. I could not doubt that our presence hadattracted these unseen ringers to the room in which we stood, and I knewquite well that I was growing pale. This was the room in which at leastone unhappy occupant of the Gables had died of fear. I recognized thefact that if this mere overture were going to affect my nerves to suchan extent, I could not hope to survive the ordeal of the night; a greateffort was called for. I emptied my glass at a gulp, and stared acrossthe table at Nayland Smith with a sort of defiance. He was standingvery upright and motionless, but his eyes were turning right and left,searching every visible corner of the big room.
"Good!" he said in a very low voice. "The terrorizing power of theUnknown is boundless, but we must not get in the grip of panic, or wecould not hope to remain in this house ten minutes."
I nodded without speaking. Then Smith, to my amazement, suddenly beganto speak in a loud voice, a marked contrast to that, almost a whisp
er,in which he had spoken formerly.
"My dear Pearce," he cried, "do you hear the ringing of bells?"
Clearly the latter words were spoken for the benefit of the unseenintelligence controlling these manifestations; and although I regardedsuch finesse as somewhat wasted, I followed my friend's lead and repliedin a voice as loud as his own:
"Distinctly, Professor!"
Silence followed my words, a silence in which both stood watchful andlistening. Then, very faintly, I seemed to detect the silvern ringingreceding away through distant rooms. Finally it became inaudible, andin the stillness of the Gables I could distinctly hear my companionbreathing. For fully ten minutes we two remained thus, each momentarilyexpecting a repetition of the ringing, or the coming of some new andmore sinister manifestation. But we heard nothing and saw nothing.
"Hand me that grip, and don't stir until I come back!" hissed Smith inmy ear.
He turned and walked out of the library, his boots creaking very loudlyin that awe-inspiring silence.
Standing beside the table, I watched the open door for his return,crushing down a dread that another form than his might suddenly appearthere.
I could hear him moving from room to room, and presently, as I waitedin hushed, tense watchfulness, he came in, depositing the grip upon thetable. His eyes were gleaming feverishly.
"The house is haunted, Pearce!" he cried. "But no ghost ever frightenedme! Come, I will show you your room."