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The Séance at Stillwater Mansion
by Mark Hodder (2006) Chapter One Things That Go Bump in the Night Thunder grumbled in the distance like a restless god. But though deities might be agitated, the dead were staying put. It was just past midnight and the heat was stifling — best to stay in the cool earth; resolutely silent and immobile. The séance had been an unqualified failure. One of the four participants in the big library at Stillwater Mansion rose from the table and opened the windows overlooking St. James Park. He stepped out onto the balcony and tugged at his collar. His skin prickled in the humid air. At the table, Sir Roderick Stillwater shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Well, so much for that," he said, with a rueful grin. "I said it was nonsense, didn’t I?” Sir Roderick was one of those strange individuals whose air of authority far outweighed his physical appearance. He was a small man, thin and sharp-faced with a gleaming bald head. Yet, somehow, he commanded respect and was a great success in government circles. This was in sharp contrast to the man sitting on his left, Barnaby Crisp, who was tall, fat and florid with a shocking mop of marmalade-coloured hair. He fidgeting incessantly and habitually cleared his throat before every utterance. The gentleman on the baronet's right found Crisp immensley irritating. He was also large, though in a lean and athletic fashion. His name was Frank Slaytor, a rather swarthy and hatchet-faced individual, and the instigator of their attempt to summon a visitor from beyond. The fourth man, who now turned from the balcony and re-entered the room with a large cigar glowing in his mouth, was Captain Hibbard. Every inch a military man, he was immaculately attired, with close cropped hair and a neat moustache. But he was not a handsome fellow— his mouth had a cruel twist and his eyes were too deep-set and too black. He had left the Army and was now a gentleman of leisure. Or to put it more plainly, a habitual gambler. Sir Roderick didn't know him well, having been introduced to him that night by Slaytor. “It’s like a steam bath tonight!" muttered Hibbard. "Reminds me of Calcutta." Sir Roderick took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “I won’t sleep tonight. Why don’t we play a rubber of bridge before we turn in? I'll call down Mainwaring; he’s sure to join us now the spook show has ended. Really, Slaytor, I don't know why you dabble in such things! There wasn't a single trace of ectoplasm!" "I'd hardly qualify it as 'dabbling', old boy," objected Slaytor. "Besides, you asked for a demonstration. I can't help it if conditions aren't condusive!" "Balderdash!" exclaimed Sir Roderick. "I did no such thing! It was Crisp here who insisted that you display your mystic powers!" "Not that they amounted to much," interjected Captain Hibbard. "I say chaps, Sir Roderick is right, we'll none of us sleep tonight. Let's get Mainwaring down and the jolly old cards out. What's he doing up there, anyway?" "Reading, I suspect," muttered Sir Roderick. "The man has become an absolute bookworm. Why, he's burrowed his way through half this library these past couple of days. Unnatural, I call it — his nose between book covers like a horse wearing blinkers! I could almost believe he's trying to hide. It's about time he—" He broke off in mid-sentence as a loud thump sounded from the room above. "Ahem... what was that?" inquired the fat man, Crisp. "Evidence of heavy reading, I should say," quipped Hibbard. "You don't think Mainwaring’s taken a tumble, do you?" he added, seeing the startled expression on Sir Roderick's face. "That's his room, isn't it?" "Yes," nodded the baronet, rising abruptly. "I didn’t like the sound of that. We should take a look. Maybe he’s been taken ill.” He hurried across to the door. The others looked uneasily at one another and followed him out into the hall, up the broad staircase, and to the door of the room above. Sir Roderick rapped upon it. "Hello! Mainwaring! Are you alright in there?" There was no reply. “Mainwaring! Hello? Answer me, man!” He pushed at the door and found it to be locked. "Ahem... that's rather strange, don’t you think!" muttered Crisp, shooting an odd look at the others. "I don't like this at all!" said Sir Roderick. "Mainwaring! Mainwaring! Why doesn't he answer? Do you think we should break the door down?" "Maybe he's not in there at all. He could have left the room and locked it behind him," observed Hibbard. "No need to go ruining a perfectly good door.” But Sir Roderick, who was deeply unsettled, couldn't rest until he found out what was on the other side. So he called for a footman to bring tools and before many minutes had passed the servant had splintered the lock and the door swung open. In the center of the room lay the crumpled figure of Edward Mainwaring. “Great heavens!” exclaimed Crisp and pushed past the others, who stood rooted to the spot. The fat man rushed to the collapsed Mainwaring and knelt at his side. Suddenly he let loose a frightened cry, which brought the rest of them running into the room. “A dagger!” said Crisp with a quavering voice. “A dagger has been driven straight into his heart! The beggar’s killed himself!” Captain Hibbard shook his head. “Impossible! Look at him. He’s on his back with his arms folded beneath him. How could he fall like that if he’d stabbed himself?” “But the door was locked!” cried Crisp. “And look, so is the window! Anyway, no one could get out that way, it's too high!” “I say!” exclaimed Frank Slaytor. “Do you think the man who did this is still in the room?” They all looked around nervously but quickly realized that there was simply nowhere a man could hide apart from beneath the bed or in the wardrobe and there was no one in either place. "But... but... this doesn’t... ” stammered Sir Roderick Stillwater. Like his companions, he couldn’t make sense of it. Mainwaring had been killed just minutes before. They had all heard the thump of his falling body. But the door had been locked on the inside, escape from the window was impossible, and the room was empty! It was baffling! They stood helpless, breathing heavily with the shock of it. It was Crisp who eventually broke the silence: "Oh dear Lord!" he quavered, "We did it! We summoned a spirit after all!" His voice rose to a terrified screech. "Mainwaring has been killed by a ghost!" |