The Haunted Hotel

by Wilkie Collins

  ‘These last words explained a curious smell in the vaults, which we noticed the moment we entered them. We can only describe the smell by saying that it was of a twofold sort – faintly aromatic, as it were, in its first effect, but with some after-odour very sickening in our nostrils. The Baron’s furnaces and retorts, and other things, were all there to speak for themselves, together with some packages of chemicals, having the name and address of the person who had supplied them plainly visible on their labels. “Not a pleasant place for study,” Baron Rivar observed, “but my sister is timid. She has a horror of chemical smells and explosions – and she has banished me to these lower regions, so that my experiments may neither be smelt nor heard.” He held out his hands, on which we had noticed that he wore gloves in the house. “Accidents will happen sometimes,” he said, “no matter how careful a man may be. I burnt my hands severely in trying a new combination the other day, and they are only recovering now.”

  ‘We mention these otherwise unimportant incidents, in order to show that our exploration of the palace was not impeded by any attempt at concealment. We were even admitted to her ladyship’s own room – on a subsequent occasion, when she went out to take the air. Our instructions recommended us to examine his lordship’s residence, because the extreme privacy of his life at Venice, and the remarkable departure of the only two servants in the house, might have some suspicious connection with the nature of his death. We found nothing to justify suspicion.

  ‘As to his lordship’s retired way of life, we have conversed on the subject with the consul and the banker – the only two strangers who held any communication with him. He called once at the bank to obtain money on his letter of credit, and excused himself from accepting an invitation to visit the banker at his private residence, on the ground of delicate health. His lordship wrote to the same effect on sending his card to the consul, to excuse himself from personally returning that gentleman’s visit to the palace. We have seen the letter, and we beg to offer the following copy of it. “Many years passed in India have injured my constitution. I have ceased to go into society; the one occupation of my life now is the study of Oriental literature. The air of Italy is better for me than the air of England, or I should never have left home. Pray accept the apologies of a student and an invalid. The active part of my life is at an end.” The self-seclusion of his lordship seems to us to be explained in these brief lines. We have not, however, on that account spared our inquiries in other directions. Nothing to excite a suspicion of anything wrong has come to our knowledge.

  ‘As to the departure of the lady’s maid, we have seen the woman’s receipt for her wages, in which it is expressly stated that she left Lady Montbarry’s service because she disliked the Continent, and wished to get back to her own country. This is not an uncommon result of taking English servants to foreign parts. Lady Montbarry has informed us that she abstained from engaging another maid in consequence of the extreme dislike which his lordship expressed to having strangers in the house, in the state of his health at that time.

  ‘The disappearance of the courier Ferrari is, in itself, unquestionably a suspicious circumstance. Neither her ladyship nor the Baron can explain it; and no investigation that we could make has thrown the smallest light on this event, or has justified us in associating it, directly or indirectly, with the object of our inquiry. We have even gone the length of examining the portmanteau which Ferrari left behind him. It contains nothing but clothes and linen – no money, and not even a scrap of paper in the pockets of the clothes. The portmanteau remains in charge of the police.

  ‘We have also found opportunities of speaking privately to the old woman who attends to the rooms occupied by her ladyship and the Baron. She was recommended to fill this situation by the keeper of the restaurant who has supplied the meals to the family throughout the period of their residence at the palace. Her character is most favourably spoken of. Unfortunately, her limited intelligence makes her of no value as a witness. We were patient and careful in questioning her, and we found her perfectly willing to answer us; but we could elicit nothing which is worth including in the present report.

  ‘On the second day of our inquiries, we had the honour of an interview with Lady Montbarry. Her ladyship looked miserably worn and ill, and seemed to be quite at a loss to understand what we wanted with her. Baron Rivar, who introduced us, explained the nature of our errand in Venice, and took pains to assure her that it was a purely formal duty on which we were engaged. Having satisfied her ladyship on this point, he discreetly left the room.

  ‘The questions which we addressed to Lady Montbarry related mainly, of course, to his lordship’s illness. The answers, given with great nervousness of manner, but without the slightest appearance of reserve, informed us of the facts that follow:

  ‘Lord Montbarry had been out of order for some time past – nervous and irritable. He first complained of having taken cold on November 13 last; he passed a wakeful and feverish night, and remained in bed the next day. Her ladyship proposed sending for medical advice. He refused to allow her to do this, saying that he could quite easily be his own doctor in such a trifling matter as a cold. Some hot lemonade was made at his request, with a view to producing perspiration. Lady Montbarry’s maid having left her at that time, the courier Ferrari (then the only servant in the house) went out to buy the lemons. Her ladyship made the drink with her own hands. It was successful in producing perspiration – and Lord Montbarry had some hours of sleep afterwards. Later in the day, having need of Ferrari’s services, Lady Montbarry rang for him. The bell was not answered. Baron Rivar searched for the man, in the palace and out of it, in vain. From that time forth not a trace of Ferrari could be discovered. This happened on November 14.

  ‘On the night of the 14th, the feverish symptoms accompanying his lordship’s cold returned. They were in part perhaps attributable to the annoyance and alarm caused by Ferrari’s mysterious disappearance. It had been impossible to conceal the circumstance, as his lordship rang repeatedly for the courier; insisting that the man should relieve Lady Montbarry and the Baron by taking their places during the night at his bedside.

  ‘On the 15th (the day on which the old woman first came to do the housework), his lordship complained of sore throat, and of a feeling of oppression on the chest. On this day, and again on the 16th, her ladyship and the Baron entreated him to see a doctor. He still refused. “I don’t want strange faces about me; my cold will run its course, in spite of the doctor,” –that was his answer. On the 17th he was so much worse that it was decided to send for medical help whether he liked it or not. Baron Rivar, after inquiry at the consul’s, secured the services of Doctor Bruno, well known as an eminent physician in Venice; with the additional recommendation of having resided in England, and having made himself acquainted with English forms of medical practice.

  ‘Thus far our account of his lordship’s illness has been derived from statements made by Lady Montbarry. The narrative will now be most fitly continued in the language of the doctor’s own report, herewith subjoined.

  ‘“My medical diary informs me that I first saw the English Lord Montbarry, on November 17. He was suffering from a sharp attack of bronchitis. Some precious time had been lost, through his obstinate objection to the presence of a medical man at his bedside. Generally speaking, he appeared to be in a delicate state of health. His nervous system was out of order – he was at once timid and contradictory. When I spoke to him in English, he answered in Italian; and when I tried him in Italian, he went back to English. It mattered little – the malady had already made such progress that he could only speak a few words at a time, and those in a whisper.

  ‘“I at once applied the necessary remedies. Copies of my prescriptions (with translation into English) accompany the present statement, and are left to speak for themselves.

  ‘“For the next three days I was in constant attendance on my patient. He answered to the remedies employed – improving slowly, but decidedly. I could
conscientiously assure Lady Montbarry that no danger was to be apprehended thus far. She was indeed a most devoted wife. I vainly endeavoured to induce her to accept the services of a competent nurse; she would allow nobody to attend on her husband but herself. Night and day this estimable woman was at his bedside. In her brief intervals of repose, her brother watched the sick man in her place. This brother was, I must say, very good company, in the intervals when we had time for a little talk. He dabbled in chemistry, down in the horrid under-water vaults of the palace; and he wanted to show me some of his experiments. I have enough of chemistry in writing prescriptions – and I declined. He took it quite good-humouredly.

  ‘“I am straying away from my subject. Let me return to the sick lord.

  ‘“Up to the 20th, then, things went well enough. I was quite unprepared for the disastrous change that showed itself, when I paid Lord Montbarry my morning visit on the 21st. He had relapsed, and seriously relapsed. Examining him to discover the cause, I found symptoms of pneumonia – that is to say, in unmedical language, inflammation of the substance of the lungs. He breathed with difficulty, and was only partially able to relieve himself by coughing. I made the strictest inquiries, and was assured that his medicine had been administered as carefully as usual, and that he had not been exposed to any changes of temperature. It was with great reluctance that I added to Lady Montbarry’s distress; but I felt bound, when she suggested a consultation with another physician, to own that I too thought there was really need for it.

  ‘“Her ladyship instructed me to spare no expense, and to get the best medical opinion in Italy. The best opinion was happily within our reach. The first and foremost of Italian physicians is Torello of Padua. I sent a special messenger for the great man. He arrived on the evening of the 21st, and confirmed my opinion that pneumonia had set in, and that our patient’s life was in danger. I told him what my treatment of the case had been, and he approved of it in every particular. He made some valuable suggestions, and (at Lady Montbarry’s express request) he consented to defer his return to Padua until the following morning.

  ‘“We both saw the patient at intervals in the course of the night. The disease, steadily advancing, set our utmost resistance at defiance. In the morning Doctor Torello took his leave. ‘I can be of no further use,’ he said to me. ‘The man is past all help – and he ought to know it.’

  ‘“Later in the day I warned my lord, as gently as I could, that his time had come. I am informed that there are serious reasons for my stating what passed between us on this occasion, in detail, and without any reserve. I comply with the request.

  ‘“Lord Montbarry received the intelligence of his approaching death with becoming composure, but with a certain doubt. He signed to me to put my ear to his mouth. He whispered faintly, ‘Are you sure?’ It was no time to deceive him; I said, ‘Positively sure.’ He waited a little, gasping for breath, and then he whispered again, ‘Feel under my pillow.’ I found under his pillow a letter, sealed and stamped, ready for the post. His next words were just audible and no more – ‘Post it yourself.’ I answered, of course, that I would do so – and I did post the letter with my own hand. I looked at the address. It was directed to a lady in London. The street I cannot remember. The name I can perfectly recall: it was an Italian name – ‘Mrs Ferrari.’

  ‘“That night my lord nearly died of asphyxia. I got him through it for the time; and his eyes showed that he understood me when I told him, the next morning, that I had posted the letter. This was his last effort of consciousness. When I saw him again he was sunk in apathy. He lingered in a state of insensibility, supported by stimulants, until the 25th, and died (unconscious to the last) on the evening of that day.

  ‘“As to the cause of his death, it seems (if I may be excused for saying so) simply absurd to ask the question. Bronchitis, terminating in pneumonia – there is no more doubt that this, and this only, was the malady of which he expired, than that two and two make four. Doctor Torello’s own note of the case is added here to a duplicate of my certificate, in order (as I am informed) to satisfy some English offices in which his lordship’s life was insured. The English offices must have been founded by that celebrated saint and doubter, mentioned in the New Testament, whose name was Thomas!”

  ‘Doctor Bruno’s evidence ends here.

  ‘Reverting for a moment to our inquiries addressed to Lady Montbarry, we have to report that she can give us no information on the subject of the letter which the doctor posted at Lord Montbarry’s request. When his lordship wrote it? what it contained? why he kept it a secret from Lady Montbarry (and from the Baron also); and why he should write at all to the wife of his courier? these are questions to which we find it simply impossible to obtain any replies. It seems even useless to say that the matter is open to suspicion. Suspicion implies conjecture of some kind – and the letter under my lord’s pillow baffles all conjecture. Application to Mrs Ferrari may perhaps clear up the mystery. Her residence in London will be easily discovered at the Italian Couriers’ Office, Golden Square.

  ‘Having arrived at the close of the present report, we have now to draw your attention to the conclusion which is justified by the results of our investigation.

  ‘The plain question before our Directors and ourselves appears to be this: Has the inquiry revealed any extraordinary circumstances which render the death of Lord Montbarry open to suspicion? The inquiry has revealed extraordinary circumstances beyond all doubt – such as the disappearance of Ferrari, the remarkable absence of the customary establishment of servants in the house, and the mysterious letter which his lordship asked the doctor to post. But where is the proof that any one of these circumstances is associated – suspiciously and directly associated – with the only event which concerns us, the event of Lord Montbarry’s death? In the absence of any such proof, and in the face of the evidence of two eminent physicians, it is impossible to dispute the statement on the certificate that his lordship died a natural death. We are bound, therefore, to report, that there are no valid grounds for refusing the payment of the sum for which the late Lord Montbarry’s life was assured.

  ‘We shall send these lines to you by the post of to-morrow, December 10; leaving time to receive your further instructions (if any), in reply to our telegram of this evening announcing the conclusion of the inquiry.’

  IX

  ‘Now, my good creature, whatever you have to say to me, out with it at once! I don’t want to hurry you needlessly; but these are business hours, and I have other people’s affairs to attend to besides yours.’

  Addressing Ferrari’s wife, with his usual blunt good-humour, in these terms, Mr Troy registered the lapse of time by a glance at the watch on his desk, and then waited to hear what his client had to say to him.

  ‘It’s something more, sir, about the letter with the thousand-pound note,’ Mrs Ferrari began. ‘I have found out who sent it to me.’

  Mr Troy started. ‘This is news indeed!’ he said. ‘Who sent you the letter?’

  ‘Lord Montbarry sent it, sir.’

  It was not easy to take Mr Troy by surprise. But Mrs Ferrari threw him completely off his balance. For a while he could only look at her in silent surprise. ‘Nonsense!’ he said, as soon as he had recovered himself. ‘There is some mistake –it can’t be!’

  ‘There is no mistake,’ Mrs Ferrari rejoined, in her most positive manner. ‘Two gentlemen from the insurance offices called on me this morning, to see the letter. They were completely puzzled –especially when they heard of the bank-note inside. But they know who sent the letter. His lordship’s doctor in Venice posted it at his lordship’s request. Go to the gentlemen yourself, sir, if you don’t believe me. They were polite enough to ask if I could account for Lord Montbarry’s writing to me and sending me the money. I gave them my opinion directly –I said it was like his lordship’s kindness.’

  ‘Like his lordship’s kindness?’ Mr Troy repeated, in blank amazement.

  ‘Yes, sir! Lord Montbar
ry knew me, like all the other members of his family, when I was at school on the estate in Ireland. If he could have done it, he would have protected my poor dear husband. But he was helpless himself in the hands of my lady and the Baron –and the only kind thing he could do was to provide for me in my widowhood, like the true nobleman he was!’

  ‘A very pretty explanation!’ said Mr Troy. ‘What did your visitors from the insurance offices think of it?’

  ‘They asked if I had any proof of my husband’s death.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I said, “I give you better than proof, gentlemen; I give you my positive opinion.”’

  ‘That satisfied them, of course?’

  ‘They didn’t say so in words, sir. They looked at each other – and wished me good-morning.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Ferrari, unless you have some more extraordinary news for me, I think I shall wish you good-morning too. I can take a note of your information (very startling information, I own); and, in the absence of proof, I can do no more.’

  ‘I can provide you with proof, sir – if that is all you want,’ said Mrs Ferrari, with great dignity. ‘I only wish to know, first, whether the law justifies me in doing it. You may have seen in the fashionable intelligence of the newspapers, that Lady Montbarry has arrived in London, at Newbury’s Hotel. I propose to go and see her.’