Terror Tower Read online

  ‘I’m sure he was,’ said Jim crisply, and became aware that a woman had entered the hall. A biggish woman with a quiet, firm step. She was standing motionless by the foot of the staircase, watching them from a pair of eyes that were as black as coal.

  ‘This is my wife, sir,’ said North deprecatingly.

  The woman made a movement that was half a bow, and half a curtsy, and her swarthy face was completely expressionless.

  ‘I hope you’re going to like it here, sir,’ she said in a voice that was so low as to be almost inaudible. ‘It’s a fine old house.’

  ‘I shall be able to see it better in the daylight,’ said Jim, and he felt that he liked Mrs. North even less than he liked her husband.

  ‘By the way, this is a friend of mine’ — he introduced McWraith — ‘he’ll be staying here for some time, so will you fix up a room for him?’

  Mrs. North eyed the gigantic Scot doubtfully.

  ‘I will do my best, sir,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think there’s a bed’ — she hesitated — ‘that will be big enough.’

  ‘Anything will do for me,’ boomed McWraith, waving a huge hand. ‘I curl up like a snail!’

  He grinned, but no answering smile appeared on the thin lips of the housekeeper. Her face was a mask; not even her eyes gave the slightest indication of her thoughts.

  ‘I will see that a room is prepared,’ she said. ‘What time would you like dinner, sir?’

  ‘Just as soon as ever you can get it ready,’ said Jim, ‘and in the meantime we should like a wash, if you could bring us some hot water.’

  ‘See about it, will you, Alice?’ said the butler; and the woman nodded and disappeared through a door at the back of the hall.

  ‘If you’ll come this way, sir,’ continued North, ‘I’ll show you to your room.’

  He led the way up the broad staircase, on to a square landing and paused half-way along a corridor that ran from it towards the back of the house. Opening a door, he stood aside for Jim to enter.

  ‘I’ll go and bring up your luggage, sir,’ he said as Jim and McWraith crossed the threshold, and they heard his soft footsteps pad along the corridor and fade away in the distance.

  Jim looked round the room interestedly.

  It was a huge apartment, with two curtained windows that reached from floor to ceiling, and was half-panelled in oak that time had coloured to a rich black. An enormous four-poster bed occupied the centre, its footboard facing the wide old-fashioned fireplace in which a cheerful fire was burning. Above the panelling cream-coloured walls rose to the beamed ceiling. There were no pictures of any kind, and the only touch of modernity was a large easychair that occupied one side of the hearth. It was an austere room, but of a mellow austerity which was not displeasing, and yet as Jim advanced farther into the dim light of the shaded oil-lamp that stood upon a table near the bed, and was the sole means of illumination, he felt suddenly cold. A momentary chill that was like a draught of cold air.

  ‘Well, what do you think of the ancestral home?’ asked McWraith.

  Jim looked at him, and there was a perceptible pause before he replied.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly at length.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked the Scotsman, raising his eyebrows.

  ‘Just what I say,’ replied Jim. ‘I like it, and — I don’t like it. There’s something — queer about it.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ retorted McWraith. ‘You’re tired, and you’re imagining things. Wait till you’ve had a good dinner.’

  ‘Don’t you find anything strange about the atmosphere of the place?’ asked Jim.

  ‘No,’ answered his friend. ‘It’s just the sort of house I like.’

  Jim looked at him steadily.

  ‘You’re not telling the truth,’ he said bluntly. ‘You feel the same about it as I do, only you don’t like to admit it. I noticed your expression as soon as we got inside the door. There is something queer. I don’t know if it’s this old furniture and all these dusty old trappings, or merely the idea of stepping into a dead man’s shoes, but I don’t like it, and I don’t like that couple down —’

  He broke off suddenly, his lips still parted in the act of forming the word ‘stairs.’

  From somewhere, whether inside or out it was impossible to tell, came a shrill scream. It rose to a howl, quavered down the scale and drifted away to silence.

  ‘What in God’s name was that?’ muttered Jim, and his face went grey beneath its tan.

  Chapter Two – In the Night

  ‘I trust you were not alarmed, sir,’ said the soft voice of North close at hand, and Jim wheeled round.

  The butler, a suitcase in either hand, stood watching them from the doorway.

  ‘What was that cry? Did you hear it?’ demanded Jim sharply.

  ‘Yes, sir. It was only the dog,’ said the butler apologetically. ‘I’m sorry if it startled you, sir.’ He came noiselessly into the room and set down the bags.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Jim felt vaguely relieved. ‘Was that what it was? What’s the matter with the dog?’

  ‘Nothing, sir. He sometimes howls like that when he wants to come in,’ said the butler with a faint smile. ‘It used to startle Mr. Winslow sometimes.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ remarked Jim. ‘It was a horrible din.’

  ‘Yes, sir; I’ll do my best to see that it doesn’t occur again,’ said North. ‘I’ll go and fetch your hot water now, sir.’

  He left the room, closing the door gently behind him, and when he had gone Ian McWraith looked at his friend with a peculiar expression.

  ‘You were quite right about this place being queer,’ he said a little grimly, ‘and that scream hasn’t made it any less queer.’

  ‘Oh, now that we know what it is —’ Jim stopped as the other gave an impatient exclamation.

  ‘You know as well as I do that sound was never made by a dog,’ he said quietly. ‘That fellow North is a damned liar!’

  ‘What do you think it was, then?’ asked Jim.

  ‘I don’t know what it was, or what caused it,’ said McWraith. ‘But I’m willing to bet that it came from a human throat.’

  Jim frowned. His friend had put into words the thought that had been in his own mind.

  ‘If that’s the case, somebody must have been having a pretty bad time,’ he said uneasily. ‘What are we going to do about it?’

  ‘Nothing openly,’ growled McWraith, ‘but on the quiet we’ll keep our eyes skinned.’

  He looked round sharply. A faint sound had come from the direction of the door, a faint, almost inaudible click as though someone outside had inadvertently touched the handle.

  McWraith took a quick step towards the door, and as he did so the handle clicked again, and this time the door opened and North appeared on the threshold, carrying a large jug of beaten copper.

  ‘Your hot water, sir,’ he said, crossing to the washstand and setting it down. ‘Dinner will be ready in half an hour.’

  ‘Thank you, North,’ said Jim shortly, and after a momentary hesitation the butler withdrew.

  ‘I don’t like that fellow, Ian,’ said Jim, as he slipped off his jacket and rolled up his shirt-sleeves. ‘And I don’t like his wife either.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ grunted McWraith. ‘She reminds me of a snake.’

  Jim splashed some of the water into the basin and began to wash his hands.

  ‘We’re probably imagining a lot of things that don’t exist,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s coming to a strange house and seeing it for the first time in the dark. Probably to-morrow, in the daylight, when we are less tired, we shall feel different.’

  ‘There was nothing imaginary about that cry,’ said McWraith.

  Jim laved his face.

  ‘Perhaps it was a dog,’ he spluttered, grabbing a towel.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said his friend, but there was no conviction in his voice. ‘Anyway, let’s forget all about it, and hope that there’s nothing queer about the dinner. I’m as hungry
as a starving cat!’

  They finished washing and went down to the dining-room, and Jim had to admit that the place looked very pleasant indeed.

  A long refectory table was laid for dinner, and in the big open hearth a fire crackled cheerily. In its light the old oak took on a warm hue, reflecting little sparkling points of fire that were enhanced by the six candles that illumined the table.

  ‘Not so bad,’ remarked Jim. ‘If the dinner is as good as the setting I shall be quite satisfied.’

  The dinner was. It was a simple meal, but it was beautifully cooked, and they thoroughly enjoyed it. They had reached the coffee stage when North tapped at the door and entered.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said in an undertone, looking at Jim, ‘but Miss Heyford would like to see you.’

  ‘Miss Heyford?’ echoed Jim. ‘Who the deuce is she?’

  ‘She’s a very charming young lady, sir,’ answered the butler. ‘She lives at Wood Dene on the outskirts of the village.’

  Jim glanced at McWraith with a rather bewildered expression, and then back again at the butler.

  ‘What does she want?’ he asked.

  North smiled faintly.

  ‘I’ve no idea, sir,’ he replied, shaking his head.

  ‘I suppose I’d better see her,’ muttered Jim. ‘Have we a drawing-room?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ answered the butler. ‘The room facing this one.’

  ‘Show her in there, then,’ said Jim, ‘and I’ll come in a moment.’

  The butler went out and Jim rose to his feet.

  ‘You’d better come with me,’ he said to McWraith, ‘and protect me from the designing females of Stonehurst!’

  His friend grinned and followed him to the door.

  Jill Heyford was standing in front of the fireplace when they entered the long chintz-hung drawing-room, and Jim mentally decided that the butler had not exaggerated when he had described the visitor as charming. He had never seen anyone quite so dainty as the slim girl who eyed him interestedly as he entered.

  ‘You wished to see me?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, if you are Mr. Winslow,’ she replied with a pleasant smile.

  ‘That’s my name,’ said Jim. ‘This is a friend of mine, Mr. McWraith.’

  The girl bowed to Ian, and Jim pushed forward a chair.

  ‘Do please sit down, won’t you?’ he invited.

  She sank into the chair with a murmur of thanks, and Jim waited to hear the reason of her visit.

  ‘I must apologise, Mr. Winslow,’ she said, ‘for disturbing you in this unconventional manner, but I have been asked by several of the villagers to see you, and since I promised I would, here I am.’

  Without any further preliminaries she explained her mission and Jim rubbed his chin.

  ‘You’ve put me in a very awkward position, Miss Heyford,’ he admitted frankly. ‘I quite see your point of view, or rather the point of view of the people concerned, and I’d be only too pleased to help if I could. Unfortunately, I haven’t got five thousand pounds.’

  ‘Oh!’ The girl looked at him rather blankly, and then she smiled. ‘In that case, of course, nothing can be done. I hope you didn’t mind my coming?’

  ‘Not in the least,’ said Jim hastily, ‘I’m only sorry that I can’t do something. I tell you what, though,’ he added, ‘I’ll go into the matter thoroughly and if I can think of any way in which I can help you I will.’

  She thanked him and half rose from her chair.

  ‘Please don’t go unless you must,’ said Jim. ‘You see, you may be able to help me a little now you’re here. You know all about the place and that sort of thing. What are the people like around here, and what does everybody do?’

  ‘They’re mostly farmers,’ she explained, ‘and just ordinary villagers. Of course, there are a few others. There’s Dr. Grendon, and Mr. Toogood, and Mr. and Mrs. Gordon-Watts. They live at the White House at the end of the High Street; you must have passed it on your way from London.’

  ‘I remember it,’ put in McWraith. ‘Rather a pretty place with a lot of flowering creeper. Is that where you mean?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then there’s Mr. Lucia, who’s just rented the Martins’ cottage for six months, and Mr. Japper, who owns the Crossed Hands. He’s very popular in the village.’

  ‘Crossed Hands?’ said Jim. ‘That must be the inn we passed.’

  ‘It’s the original inn,’ she said, ‘where the smugglers who infested these parts, I don’t know how many hundreds of years ago, used to hide. There are lots of places like that around here. Stonehurst might almost be called a slice of the past. Are you thinking of staying here permanently?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Jim. ‘It all depends.’

  ‘I asked because, if you do, you’re sure to meet all these people,’ she went on. ‘They’re a funny crowd — some of them. I think you’ll like it here, at least —’ she hesitated, reddened and added hastily, ‘at least you’re sure to.’

  Neither Jim nor Ian McWraith missed that sudden intake of breath and the momentary embarrassment that had accompanied it. Jim was convinced that the girl had not ended her sentence as she had at first intended. He made no comment, however, and she was so obviously anxious to cover up that momentary slip that she changed the subject quickly and went on chatting about Stonehurst and its inhabitants. Suddenly, almost in the midst of a sentence, she stopped and looked at her watch with a start of surprise.

  ‘I’d no idea it was so late,’ she said in dismay, getting up quickly. ‘My aunt will be wondering what has become of me. I really must go.’

  She said good-bye to McWraith, and Jim took her to the door. When he came back he found his friend smoking a cigarette in front of the fireplace, his mouth expanded in a wide smile.

  ‘That’s what I call a really pretty girl,’ remarked McWraith. ‘You ought to be jolly glad you’ve got neighbours like that. If there are any more of the same brand I’ve a good mind to come and stop here permanently myself.’

  ‘I wish you would,’ said Jim fervently. ‘I don’t much fancy stopping here alone.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ replied his friend. ‘It looks to me as if it might be interesting.’

  ‘What about having a look round the place?’ suggested Jim. ‘We haven’t seen much of it so far.’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ agreed McWraith, ‘and perhaps our friend the butler can be persuaded to show us that extraordinary dog that screams when it wants to come in.’

  He looked across at Jim with a queer expression on his face.

  ‘What are you getting at?’ asked Jim, as he crossed the room and touched the bell.

  ‘I’m not getting at anything,’ replied McWraith. ‘I’m just curious, that’s all.’

  Jim had to ring twice before North answered the summons, and when the man did come he was breathing heavily as though he had been running.

  He offered an explanation for this, which was also an apology.

  ‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ he said. ‘My wife told me you had rung twice. I was down in the cellar getting some coal.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Jim, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed that the butler’s coat was sprinkled here and there with moisture that glistened in the light.

  ‘Your cellars must be very damp,’ remarked McWraith, and North’s pasty face went a shade paler.

  ‘I — I had to go out to the outhouse as well, sir,’ he said hastily, with a glance at his wet coat sleeve, ‘to get some logs. We don’t keep them in the cellar, sir.’

  It was a plausible explanation, and Jim was rather annoyed with himself when he found his mind rejecting it. And yet he did reject it, and would have been willing to bet a considerable sum that North was not speaking the truth.

  ‘What was it you wanted, sir?’ asked the butler, darting quick glances from one to the other.

  ‘We thought,’ said Jim, ‘that we’d rather like to look over the place. Will you show us round?’
r />   The butler’s hesitation before he replied was only momentary.

  ‘Certainly, sir, if you wish,’ he said, ‘though I don’t think you’ll be able to see very much tonight.’

  ‘What we miss to-night,’ said Jim, ‘we can see in the morning.’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ answered North. ‘If you’ll wait here for a moment I’ll get a lantern.’

  He glided away with the peculiar cat-like tread that was a characteristic of the man.

  Jim looked at his friend.

  ‘You don’t believe he’d been in the cellar, either,’ he said, and it was a statement rather than a question.

  ‘I don’t believe anything about the man at all,’ answered McWraith candidly. ‘He may be a confoundedly good butler, but he’s a darned sight better liar. Did you notice his boots?’

  Jim shook his head.

  ‘They were caked with mud,’ said McWraith. ‘Caked with it! Unless the outhouse is a couple of miles away he couldn’t have got in that state getting logs.’

  Jim’s brows met in a troubled frown.

  ‘Then what was he doing?’ he demanded.

  McWraith shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, ‘but there’s something deuced queer going on. I —’

  ‘If you’re ready, sir,’ said the soft voice of North, and Jim swung round quickly to find the butler standing in the open doorway with a lighted hurricane lantern in his hand.

  If he had heard McWraith’s remark he gave no sign. Perhaps he had not. Perhaps he had only just arrived when he had spoken, for both their backs had been turned towards the door, and neither had heard him approach.

  ‘We’re ready,’ said Jim shortly, and the butler led the way out into the hall.

  ‘I suppose it’s the older parts of the house you would like to see, sir,’ he said, and Jim agreed.

  He conducted them along a passage leading off the hall and, opening a door, ushered them into a large stone kitchen. A crackling fire was burning in a big open fireplace, and at a massive table Mrs. North was ironing placidly. She gave them a quick glance as they passed through, followed it with a jerky little bow, and went on impassively with her work.