Footsteps in the Dark Read online

  ‘Better take a look amongst the trees,’ Peter said in a low voice.

  ‘Don’t you go, sir, you don’t know what might happen to you!’

  ‘Well, I’m not asking you to come,’ Peter said. ‘Do pull yourself together!’

  Together he and Charles stepped out on to the gravel-path, and began to cross the lawn towards the belt of trees.

  ‘Bit of imagination, if you ask me,’ Peter growled. ‘Good job he didn’t see that skeleton.’ Then he grabbed at Charles’ arm, and gripped it hard. Some shadow had moved among the still shadows of the trees. ‘There is something there!’ Peter breathed. ‘Go carefully!’

  They stole forward in the lee of the overgrown hedge, and as they drew nearer to the trees a figure seemed to slide out of the darkness before them. They saw a form standing motionless on the edge of the lawn. Its face was in shadow, but it looked their way, and seemed to be awaiting them. Involuntarily they checked, for there was something strangely eerie about the waiting form, nor could they distinguish more than the outline of the figure, which seemed to be draped in some long garment that looked rather like a cassock. Then the figure moved and the spell was broken.

  ‘I fear I am committing an act of trespass,’ a mild voice announced. ‘I am in pursuit of a specimen rare indeed in this country. Permit me to make myself known to you; I fear you thought me a thief in the night.’ As it spoke the figure removed a slouch hat, and revealed a countenance adorned with steel-rimmed spectacles, and surmounted by sparse grey hair. ‘I am an entomologist: my name is Ernest Titmarsh,’ it said.

  Three

  FOR A MOMENT THEY STARED AT ONE ANOTHER; THEN Peter began to laugh. Mr Ernest Titmarsh, far from being offended, beamed affably upon him. Peter pulled himself together as soon as he could, and said with a quiver in his voice: ‘I beg your pardon, but really it’s rather funny. You see, whenever we catch sight of anyone wandering about in our grounds we think he’s a ghost.’

  Mr Titmarsh blinked at him. ‘Dear me, is that so indeed? A ghost, did you say?’

  ‘Yes,’ Charles said gravely. ‘It’s – it’s an idiosyncrasy of ours.’

  Mr Titmarsh replaced his hat upon his head, and seemed to give the matter some thought. Light broke upon him. ‘Of course, of course!’ he said. ‘This is the Priory!’

  ‘Didn’t you know?’ asked Peter, somewhat surprised.

  ‘Now I come to look about me, yes,’ replied their eccentric visitor. ‘But I fear I am very absent-minded. Yes, yes, indeed, I owe you an apology. You are not, I suppose, interested in entomology?’

  ‘I’m afraid I know very little about it,’ confessed Peter.

  ‘An absorbing study,’ Mr Titmarsh said with enthusiasm. ‘But it leads one into committing acts of trespass, as you perceive. Yes, I am much to blame. I will at once depart.’

  ‘Oh, don’t do that!’ Charles interposed. ‘We haven’t the smallest objection to you – er – catching moths in our grounds. Now we know who you are we shan’t take you for a ghost again.’

  ‘Really,’ said Mr Titmarsh, ‘this is most kind. I repeat, most kind. Am I to understand that I have your permission to pursue my studies in your grounds? Tut-tut, this puts me under quite an obligation. Two evenings since, I observed what I believe to be an oleander hawk-moth. Yes, my dear sir, actually that rarest of specimens. I have great hopes of adding it to my collection. That will be indeed a triumph.’

  ‘Well, in that case, we won’t interrupt you any longer,’ Charles said. ‘We’ll just wish you luck, and retire.’

  Mr Titmarsh bowed with old-world courtesy, and as though his hobby suddenly called him, turned, and darted back amongst the trees.

  ‘And there we are,’ said Charles. ‘Might as well live in a public park, as far as I can see. I wish I’d remembered to ask him if he was interested in skeletons.’

  ‘I admit it looked a bit fishy, finding him snooping about just at this moment,’ said Peter, ‘but somehow I don’t see him in the rôle of house-breaker. We’d better go in and reassure the girls.’

  In the garden-hall they found Bowers, who had watched their proceedings with a gradual return to calm. He looked slightly sheepish when he learned who was the visitor, but he advanced the opinion that they had not heard the last of the Monk yet. This they were inclined to believe, but when they rejoined the girls they assumed the manner of those who had successfully laid a ghost.

  Celia was not convinced, however. The discovery of the skeleton, she said, accounted for every strange noise they had heard, since its unquiet spirit was obviously haunting the scene of its ghastly end.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Mrs Bosanquet firmly, ‘but I do know that it is most unhygienic to have dead bodies walled up in the house, and unless it is at once removed, and the place thoroughly fumigated, I shall return to town to-morrow.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Celia, shuddering, ‘you don’t suppose I’m going to stay here any longer do you, Aunt? We shall all go home to-morrow. I only wish we’d sold the place when we had the offer.’

  ‘Look here, Celia,’ Peter said. ‘If the ghost of that poor devil really has been haunting the place it’s ten to one it’ll stop bothering us once we’ve buried the remains. Don’t fuss, Aunt Lilian. Of course we’re going to bury the skeleton, and you can fumigate as much as you like. But I do think we oughtn’t to throw up the sponge quite so easily.’

  ‘Easily!’ said Celia. ‘I don’t know what more you’re waiting for! I shan’t know a quiet moment if I have to stay in this place another day.’

  Margaret was looking from Charles to her brother. ‘Go on, Peter. You think we ought to give the place another chance?’

  ‘I do. Hang it all, we shall look a pretty good set of asses if we bunk back to town simply because we’ve heard a few odd noises, and discovered a skeleton in a priest’s hole.’

  ‘Shall we?’ said Celia, with awful irony. ‘I suppose we ought to have expected an ordinary little thing like a skeleton?’

  ‘Not the skeleton, but we might have guessed there’d be a priest’s hole. Be a sport, Celia! If you actually see a ghost, or if any more skulls fall out of cupboards I’ll give in, and take you back to town myself.’

  Celia looked imploringly at her husband. ‘I can’t, Chas. You know what I am, and I can’t help it if I’m stupid about these things, but every time I open my wardrobe I shall be terrified of what may be inside.’

  ‘All right, darling,’ Charles replied. ‘You shan’t be martyred. I suggest you and Margaret and Aunt Lilian clear out to-morrow. I’ll run you up to town, and…’

  Celia sat bolt upright. ‘Do you mean you’ll stay here?’

  ‘That’s rather the idea,’ he admitted.

  ‘Charles, you can’t!’ she said, agitated. ‘I won’t let you!’

  ‘I shan’t be alone. Peter’s staying too.’

  Celia clasped his arm. ‘No, don’t, Charles. You don’t know what might happen, and how on earth could I go away like that, and leave you here?’

  Margaret’s clear voice made itself heard. ‘Why are you so keen to stay?’ she asked.

  ‘Pride, my dear,’ Charles said. ‘Of course, with me it’s natural heroism. Peter’s trying to live up to me.’

  She shook her head. ‘You’ve got something up your sleeve. Neither of you would be so silly as to stay on here, mucking up your holiday, just to prove you weren’t afraid of ghosts.’

  ‘But it’s getting worse!’ Celia cried. ‘What have you got up your sleeve? I insist on knowing! Chas! Peter!’

  Peter hesitated. ‘To tell you the truth, Sis, I don’t quite know. As far as I can make out, Chas has got an idea someone’s at the root of all this ghost business.’

  With great deliberation Mrs Bosanquet put down her Patience pack. ‘I may be stupid,’ she said, ‘but I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Who is at the back of what you call this “ghost business,” and why?’

  ‘Dear Aunt,’ said Charles, ‘that is precisely the problem we hope