Footsteps in the Dark Read online

  ‘What about him saying that you might get a bad fright?’

  ‘That doesn’t prove anything at all. Anyway, I don’t believe he’d be the one to frighten me.’

  ‘Doesn’t it throw a little light on the fact that he seemed so anxious to get you away from the Priory?’

  ‘No, it does not,’ Margaret muttered crossly, and took a corner recklessly wide.

  The interminable argument went on throughout her drive back to the Priory. Only one clear point emerged from it, and that was that she didn’t want to give Charles and Peter any fresh grounds for suspecting Strange unless she were absolutely forced to. Whereat Conscience said very nastily: ‘What price Loyalty, eh?’

  Since she had not left the Milbanks’ house until a few minutes before ten there was no hope of reaching the Priory till after eleven. Margaret knew that Celia, remembering her dinner engagement, would not be likely to worry over her lateness, but she was not quite at ease about it herself. It was true there was a moon, but all the same she did not relish the prospect of that drive up from the gates to the house. Even in daylight there was something rather eerie about woods, and the avenue led through unmistakable woodland. She and Celia had gone into ecstasies over it, for they had seen it first in bluebell time, but they had not then known that it had a reputation for being haunted.

  The nearer she got to Framley the less inclined she was for the drive up the avenue, but by dint of telling herself she was not at all afraid, and thinking very hard of all sorts of things not even remotely connected with ghosts, she achieved a certain stoicism about it, and turned in at the iron gates quite determined to drive boldly and quickly up to the house, and not to peer furtively ahead.

  And then the worst happened. The entrance to the drive was an awkward one, and the gates rather narrow. The avenue curved sharply just inside them, and was flanked on either side by a ditch that kept it drained. Margaret turned in at the gates much too boldly, and jammed the car. She said: ‘Damn!’ under her breath, and proceeded to back. After some not very skilful manoeuvring she succeeded in clearing the gates. In she swept, misjudged the bend in the avenue, swung the wheel round too late and too hard, and skidded gently into the ditch.

  She was too much annoyed with herself to think about ghosts. Feeling glad that Peter was not present to mock at her bad driving, she changed down into first and tried to get the car back on to the avenue. But the heavy storm of the day before had made the surface rather slimy, and the ditch, judging from the squelch which her back wheel made as it descended into it, was full of mud. The engine roared fruitlessly, and after several more attempts Margaret was forced to give it up. The car would have to be pulled out; and meanwhile she was faced with a lonely walk up to the house.

  It serves me right for being such a fool, she thought. And it’s no use sitting here getting cold feet about it. Out you get, you idiot!

  She stepped out, and collected her handbag and coat. She eyed the planchette board dubiously, but decided to leave it, in company with her own purchases, and the two revolvers, which she had hidden under the back seat. She slipped on the coat to save having to carry it, and digging her hands into its capacious pockets, set off up the avenue.

  She had rounded the second bend, and only one more separated her from the sight of the house when she saw the Monk. Straight ahead of her, gliding across the avenue in the cold silver light, was that sinister, hooded figure. She stopped dead in her tracks with a gasp of horror. She saw it plainly, caught a glimpse of a cowled face that was somehow more terrifying than all the rest, and then it melted into the shadows on the other side of the avenue.

  Her instinct was to turn and run back the way she had come. The figure had vanished, but it might be there, in the shadows, waiting for her to come up to it. She stood as though chained to the spot, her knees shaking under her.

  I can’t go on! she thought. Where am I to go to if I run back? What shall I do? What shall I do?

  It might be anywhere amongst the dark trees that surrounded her. It had come towards Mrs Bosanquet, menacing her with an outstretched hand. If it had seen her it might even now be flitting up to her unseen in the shadows. It would be better to dart on to the house than to turn back. Perhaps someone would hear her if she screamed for help; no one would hear if she ran the other way.

  A little rustle behind her decided the matter. Not daring to look round, or to shout for help, she ran as though for her life down the avenue towards the house. As she sped past the place where she had seen the Monk disappear she had an awful feeling that the cowled figure was following her. Sobbing dryly from sheer fright she gained the last bend and saw the house ahead of her.

  Then immediately ahead of her a form stepped out from the shadow of a great rhododendron bush. She was breathless, and panting, but she gave one faint, desperate cry of ‘Peter!’

  The figure seemed to leap towards her, she tried to call again, but a hand was clapped over her mouth, and a strong arm thrown round her shoulders. ‘Don’t scream!’ an urgent whisper commanded, and almost fainting from shock she stared wildly up into the face of Michael Strange.

  Ten

  FOR A MOMENT HE CONTINUED TO HOLD HER, THEN HE removed his hand from her mouth, and said coolly, under his breath: ‘Sorry, but I couldn’t let you give the alarm. Tell me quickly, what did you see?’

  Irrationally, her fright had left her the instant she had recognised him. But her head whirled. What was he doing there? Was it possible that his had been the figure she had seen? And if so what had he done with his disguise?

  His hand grasped her wrist, not roughly, but compellingly. ‘What did you see? You must tell me.’

  She looked at him, trying to read his face in the moonlight. ‘The Monk,’ she answered, in a low voice.

  ‘Damnation!’ Michael muttered. ‘Where?’

  She pointed the way she had come, and as though by doing it she conjured up a presence, footsteps came to their ears.

  Without ceremony Michael pulled her quickly into the shadow of the rhododendron bush. She glanced at him, and saw that his eyes were fixed on the bend in the avenue. A moment later a figure in a large ulster came into sight, peering about.

  ‘Miss Fortescue!’ called Mr Ernest Titmarsh. ‘Miss Fortescue! Is there anything the matter? Tut, tut, I made sure I saw her!’

  The grip on Margaret’s wrist was removed; there was a movement beside her, she looked quickly round, and found that she was alone. As silently and as unexpectedly as he had appeared, Mr Michael Strange had vanished.

  Feeling utterly bewildered, and not a little shaken, Margaret stepped out into the moonlight, and waited for Mr Titmarsh to come up with her. ‘I’m here,’ she said, with the calm of reaction.

  He hurried up, butterfly net in hand. ‘Dear, dear, I did not at once perceive you. But what is the matter? I heard you call out, and saw you running. I do trust you did not catch sight of me, and take me for a ghost?’

  ‘Mr Titmarsh, did you cross the avenue down there a moment ago?’ she asked. ‘Going towards the chapel?’

  ‘By no means,’ he answered. ‘I was pursuing an oak-eggar just by that swampy patch of ground on the other side of the avenue. Surely you have not seen someone unauthorised prowling about the park?’

  ‘Yes. That is – it was the Monk. I knew I couldn’t be mistaken. That horrible cowl…! I’m sorry, but really I feel rather groggy. Would you mind coming with me as far as the house?’

  ‘My dear young lady! Of course, of course, but your eyes must have deceived you. Pray take my arm! Quite impossible, Miss Fortescue. I saw no monk, and surely I must have done so had there been one.’

  She shook her head. ‘You might not. There are so many bushes. I couldn’t have been deceived. I saw it plainly.’

  ‘Nerves, my dear Miss Fortescue, nothing but nerves. You must not let yourself believe in these silly ghost-tales. Why, you are quite upset by it! This will not do at all! Now I will pull the bell, and in a moment you will be inside, and quite safe.’